Screech. The rickshaw comes to a sudden halt. 'Oh thank god', she thinks as she gets down and pays the rickshaw puller waiting (im)patiently. The Black Gate looms over her like a friendly elder welcoming her into the daily ritual of life. Ritual. 'Funny, how after three months, College has become a ritual', she muses as she unconsciously checks her hair, her clothes and glances at her mobile while fretting over how late she is for the first class. As usual. Sigh. The vagaries of life. The myna on the nearby tree is chirping with a sweetness that unrestricted freedom and abandon brings. She quickens her pace, mentally picturing 'how she looks' to the dozen people or so lounging about in the corridors and is about to enter the transparent, hallowed chambers of the classroom, when it happens. A flash of red. The swing of books. A glance of the eye. A hesitation. A wonderment. And hidden behind those eyes, a momentous sparkle. That seems to draw her in and churns her out.
Bang. The door rushes back to its place, angered and frustrated by the indecision of the Hand that wields the handle. The owner of the Hand, however, is confused and mudddled. The moment, if it ever existed beyond her imagination. is gone. She is forced to come back. Back to the noisy corridor with people bustling about and shouting at each other. Back to her staring at the grumpy door concealing the wondrous world of knowledge. Back to the normality of life from the fantastic fantasy of the moment.
Sigh. The vagaries of life. She opens the door.
Finally.
___________________________
The myna is back. On another tree.She is still chirping. But, what is this? The free and melodious joyous sounds have been replaced by thoughtful and burdened laments? As if in the span of few hours from morning to afternoon, she has suddenly understood the meaning of life and existence. Gust of wind. The branches of the tree make monstrous swaying shadows on the ground below. The shadows sway and fight with one another as if fighting a tumultuous, raging battle. 'But who will win?', she asks as she quells the raging shadows with her shining chappal and noisily takes a long sip of her cold coffee. The grey building labelled "Canteen" welcomes her with a very friendly air. As if trying to snatch the title of 'The Most Benevolent Uncle' away from his brother (and rival) The Black Gate. Her ears are assaulted by a variety of sounds. Her eyes register a wide range of faces. But her mind is occupied by one pair of eyes. The flash of red. The sparkle. A long sip of coffee. Outside, on the tree, the myna flips and fiddles uneasily.
Something is not right.
_________________________________
Laughter in the air. Raucous, free and fulfilling. Her friends are oblivious of her turmoil. And she observes, with some envy, the clarity, purpose and lightness of their conservation. It is so unlike her confusion and turmoil. There is food in front of her. But her appetite is long lost. So filmy. She gets up and goes out. If only to get away. If only to calm herself. If only to tell herself that the moment was a figment of her super-fertile imagination. That it didn't exist. That even if did, it doesn't matter.
And then it happens. Again.
Fate, in its heart wrenching cruelty, laughs at the attempts of Man to play around with its plans and in order to show his might, proves his point. The flash of red appears. Again. This time, the eyes are shining. But for someone else.
Her stomach falls and she notices with quite apprehension and terror, the gentle interlinking of arms. The near perfection coordination of the steps. The tension of what could be. And what is.
Plop. The empty coffee can falls. The trembling Hand picks it up and delivers it to where it belongs. The dustbin. Just like her hopes. She doesn't know if she imagines it, but the sunlight suddenly becomes a little dimmer. And is that the myna singing a haunting dirge? Or is it just her?
________________________________________
Dejection. Despondence. Depression. The world is breaking apart. But no one knows it. She feels like screaming. Like crying her lungs out. And the very next moment, she just feels like lying down in a heap in some corner of the world. Every step that she takes is a physical pain. The raucous laughter still continues. But she can't hear it. It's like everything is coming to her from a world far far away. Far away from where she is with her three gigantic D's. Even the myna is silent. Her heart is breaking. And no one knows it. Except her.
Crash. Her Hand deserts her once again. The Books, the carriers of knowledge (of a very shallow kind. No chapter on the matters of the Heart), have fallen down. Sigh. She feels like joining them on the ground. But what is this?
What is this magical light that pierces through the barriers of the three D's and blinds her eyes? From where comes this brilliance of blue? A pair of eyes. But of a different kind. Bristling with concern. And shining with light. For her. She manages to recall how to smile and mumbles long forgotten words. Of thanks. She is astonished by the sound of her voice. The happiness surely doesn't belong to her. He is astonished too. Charmed actually. He hand her the Books (Carriers of knowledge. And messengers of love too. Cue violin music) and walks off. Only to look back.
She smiles. A wide, joyful smile. She revels in the sunlight and embraces the multicoloured-ness of the world. There is a lightness in her being. She skips forward. Gently stepping on the waving shadows of branches. Swaying as if celebrating the joy of life. No sign of tumult. The battle has been won. She laughs. Involuntarily.
Far above on the tree, the myna skips and flits over to another tree. A far attractive on some would say. Some would say the same. She chirps with new vigour.
For she has found a new song.
A sweeter one.
The End.
Bang. The door rushes back to its place, angered and frustrated by the indecision of the Hand that wields the handle. The owner of the Hand, however, is confused and mudddled. The moment, if it ever existed beyond her imagination. is gone. She is forced to come back. Back to the noisy corridor with people bustling about and shouting at each other. Back to her staring at the grumpy door concealing the wondrous world of knowledge. Back to the normality of life from the fantastic fantasy of the moment.
Sigh. The vagaries of life. She opens the door.
Finally.
___________________________
The myna is back. On another tree.She is still chirping. But, what is this? The free and melodious joyous sounds have been replaced by thoughtful and burdened laments? As if in the span of few hours from morning to afternoon, she has suddenly understood the meaning of life and existence. Gust of wind. The branches of the tree make monstrous swaying shadows on the ground below. The shadows sway and fight with one another as if fighting a tumultuous, raging battle. 'But who will win?', she asks as she quells the raging shadows with her shining chappal and noisily takes a long sip of her cold coffee. The grey building labelled "Canteen" welcomes her with a very friendly air. As if trying to snatch the title of 'The Most Benevolent Uncle' away from his brother (and rival) The Black Gate. Her ears are assaulted by a variety of sounds. Her eyes register a wide range of faces. But her mind is occupied by one pair of eyes. The flash of red. The sparkle. A long sip of coffee. Outside, on the tree, the myna flips and fiddles uneasily.
Something is not right.
_________________________________
Laughter in the air. Raucous, free and fulfilling. Her friends are oblivious of her turmoil. And she observes, with some envy, the clarity, purpose and lightness of their conservation. It is so unlike her confusion and turmoil. There is food in front of her. But her appetite is long lost. So filmy. She gets up and goes out. If only to get away. If only to calm herself. If only to tell herself that the moment was a figment of her super-fertile imagination. That it didn't exist. That even if did, it doesn't matter.
And then it happens. Again.
Fate, in its heart wrenching cruelty, laughs at the attempts of Man to play around with its plans and in order to show his might, proves his point. The flash of red appears. Again. This time, the eyes are shining. But for someone else.
Her stomach falls and she notices with quite apprehension and terror, the gentle interlinking of arms. The near perfection coordination of the steps. The tension of what could be. And what is.
Plop. The empty coffee can falls. The trembling Hand picks it up and delivers it to where it belongs. The dustbin. Just like her hopes. She doesn't know if she imagines it, but the sunlight suddenly becomes a little dimmer. And is that the myna singing a haunting dirge? Or is it just her?
________________________________________
Dejection. Despondence. Depression. The world is breaking apart. But no one knows it. She feels like screaming. Like crying her lungs out. And the very next moment, she just feels like lying down in a heap in some corner of the world. Every step that she takes is a physical pain. The raucous laughter still continues. But she can't hear it. It's like everything is coming to her from a world far far away. Far away from where she is with her three gigantic D's. Even the myna is silent. Her heart is breaking. And no one knows it. Except her.
Crash. Her Hand deserts her once again. The Books, the carriers of knowledge (of a very shallow kind. No chapter on the matters of the Heart), have fallen down. Sigh. She feels like joining them on the ground. But what is this?
What is this magical light that pierces through the barriers of the three D's and blinds her eyes? From where comes this brilliance of blue? A pair of eyes. But of a different kind. Bristling with concern. And shining with light. For her. She manages to recall how to smile and mumbles long forgotten words. Of thanks. She is astonished by the sound of her voice. The happiness surely doesn't belong to her. He is astonished too. Charmed actually. He hand her the Books (Carriers of knowledge. And messengers of love too. Cue violin music) and walks off. Only to look back.
She smiles. A wide, joyful smile. She revels in the sunlight and embraces the multicoloured-ness of the world. There is a lightness in her being. She skips forward. Gently stepping on the waving shadows of branches. Swaying as if celebrating the joy of life. No sign of tumult. The battle has been won. She laughs. Involuntarily.
Far above on the tree, the myna skips and flits over to another tree. A far attractive on some would say. Some would say the same. She chirps with new vigour.
For she has found a new song.
A sweeter one.
The End.
