I owe it to myself

The day is dying. The sun has already begun its ritual of descent leaving the sky a gash of red like a freshly acquired wound hell bent on bleeding until death comes as the end. The light breeze blowing across the visage the only reminder that it had rained heavily a few hours ago.

He thinks back to the day he first saw her. Running as fast as his heavy build would allow; he had been arrested by the sight of a lovely green chiffon scarf blowing in the wind. He remembers coming to a standstill. Etched firmly into his mind is a vision of a lovely girl in traditional Indian dress, her hands clasping the handle of a black bag, the wind playing hide and seek through her long black hair that she didn’t bother to push away or tame.

She was focused solely on the arrival of the bus that she seemed to be eagerly waiting for. The august sun beat mercilessly down and in that life time that passed between halt and movement the sun forced her cheeks to yield a lush red blush that gradually crept up her face to reach her already pink ears.

From that day on the colors of the sunset had always reminded him of that single moment; that one heart stopping moment in time when the color rose unchecked like a thief across her face and at the same time had crept unbidden in to his heart.

That day he had dismissed her. Another brush with lust he told himself. You’re letting your hormones rage within you like a little kid. What’s wrong with you? You’re an adult for god’s sake.

Then the next bus came by and his thoughts were swept away with the mundane details of life that demanded his immediate attention – the bus, the conductor, loose change and fellow travelers jostling their way to a relatively comfortable position.

The next time he saw her she was walking down the corridor of the Institute. Tired gait, eyes haggard, her entire face flushed with the exertion that comes on the heels of mental labor and an exhaustion that signaled fatigue.

He’d forgotten about her by then. And here she was bringing with her the scent of wisdom and innocence all at once. He never knew what impulse drove him to ask her if she needed help. He’d already decided by then that he wasn’t going to be used in any way by anyone. But somehow he knew that she was going to be different. Maybe she felt the same but she didn’t show it but she did accept his offer.

Time didn’t wait for either of them. It kept moving onwards but he remained in a place inhabited by her intelligence, her values, her words and her admonitions. She became a constant reminder of what could be, a possibility that could make life much more bearable and perhaps even enjoyable.

Life’s little pleasures acquired a taste that was unique, tinged as it was with the essence of love. A shared cup of coffee, a sandwich eaten on the run, a conversation late into the night, they all took on the rose colored hues that love brings in its first flush.

But that was how he’d seen it; it was his perception of how life was going on. His heart that had always been a bit of stone melted like wax. People, places, sights, sounds. Everything became mesmerizing; every object was a sign of things that were yet to come.

Winter rolled around bringing with it an occasion to be celebrated. Birthdays are always a very safe way of expressing things. Certain emotions can be cloaked in the hues of other neutral feelings. Yet they can be felt by people as surely as if they had been spoken aloud.

A small but perfect gift, beautifully wrapped. A little doll and a set of bangles. Selected with care and hand delivered well in advance. The next day the bangles dancing with every movement of her hand making music that perhaps only he could understand.

He took it as a sign, another in a long line of signs. Foolishly he dreamed of the day when he would be able to get her better ones, precious ones that would have a value that would be evident in the sparkle of the precious metal that would be used to craft them.

Every gesture that she made and every word that she spoke seemed to be an affirmation of perfection. Every emotion that love brings flooded into him and drained away into oblivion. Jealousy, sadness, longing, melancholy, anxiety, indecision and an aching soul. The seven plagues of the bible are pale in comparison to those that rack your soul when you are in love.

Love in all its multicolored hues, sweet as sugar candy and more bitter than bile, came and settled its lovely wings over him. He was in love that was for sure but was she? That is something that he forgot to ask and perhaps that was his biggest mistake.

He began to walk through paths that were strewn with the softness of flower petals. The winter air that hit you in the lungs with the full force of a sharp knife was now a bouquet of fragrances that brought pleasant memories with it.

A mixture of air tempered by the cold, the fragrance of wood smoke, the sharpness of tobacco mingled with freshly brewed coffee. Small bits of joy that had been dormant in his mind came to the fore in full force to remind him that life is, indeed, beautiful. His life, so far a struggle, now seemed to have been a quest for that one perfect person that he had succeeded in finding.

Then came the day when life decided that enough is enough. Things had gone too far. Things began to unravel. It all began with a prank and ironically his best friend was the perpetrator. She’s getting engaged!

The sun fell out of the sky. How could she do this to me? Hurt, sorrow, tears and recriminations. It could not end like this. Maybe you should tell her how you feel. A snake was whispering in his ear. His own desire was edging him on. He tells her and then the world does really end.

I don’t love you, not in that sense. Simple words but to him they are incomprehensible. The sky loses its silvery sheen and becomes the dull leaden grey of a wintry day. The entire world becomes strange and forbidding.

He couldn’t eat, he couldn’t sleep. Is this what it feels like to have your heart broken? He couldn’t fathom what he had done to deserve this. What have I done wrong? He wanted to scream, to shout, and to cry but all he could do was carry on living.

He went back to the institute. She was waiting for him. I still want to be friends. Easy words, easy to say, difficult to keep up for the sake of appearances. I don’t want to be just friends; I want to marry you for god’s sake!

Life became unbearable for a while, looking at each other and saying the same banal contrite things that people say to each other when they want to get away from the heaviness that silence brings. Two people trapped in a prison of words that convey nothing except the sheer futility of a life that is being forced to exist as a whole. Words forced out of the fragments of a heart that could once feel and still bled because it had nothing else to do.

He puts the fragments of his heart away in a corner of his soul. He puts his mind to work and his body into a tortuous routine that few understood and no one approved of. His life fast becomes a miasma incapable of being untangled.

He begins to nurture a dream that the day he becomes capable enough, she will change her mind. He continues to see her as the one. She maintains her distance. They carry on dancing to an age old tune, desire and despair merging in a brief coupling like smoke meeting air before vanishing.

They say Time heals all wounds but the scars remain. Maybe the scars are there as proof that you are a stronger and wiser person. Who knows what life has in store for you?

He kept on working and he kept on waiting. Things became easier, the pain passed away and the sharpness that had accompanied him since that fateful day loosened its hold.

Gradually life came back into his work and his movements. His heart renewed by hope he carried on. Maybe he would have carried on but then life was not going to be kind. It had already been too kind to him.

The Monsoon arrived with a fury that was unprecedented. Lashing through the air the rain drops beat down on him as he made his way to the Institute. The rain that had always signaled unparalleled sadness didn’t give him any clues as to what was in store.

She was in the library struggling with the financial news. For no apparent reason he decided to ask her the question that had been worming its way through his mind for quite some time now. Have you ever been in love? Yes. Silence. And would you marry him? Yes. Why? Because he’s always been the one I’ve felt comfortable talking to and its always going to be him.

The rain was a blessing. No one saw him cry. And when the sun finally came out he thought about every thing that had happened. He felt saddened, as if a great weight had been placed on his shoulders. Is there any point in living?

Then some thing snapped. It was as if a tightly coiled spring had given away. I owe it to myself he thought. There’s no one who’s more important to me than myself. If I create a need only then does that need exist. I owe it to myself to succeed and no one else.

He got up and walked out into the dying embers of the day ready to begin anew. I owe it to myself he kept repeating over and over again. A talisman that would keep hurt at bay.

Life, for once, was utterly and completely taken aback.