The waves rushed to her as she stepped on the moonlit beach. But only the little ones. They expressed their joy unabashedly. The big ones, instead, chose to stay far away, from her and from the imminent sadness. They seemed to be trying to act stoic but were unconvincing. Besides, they preferred to appease their first love – the moon.
The little ones, however, had no such fancies. Like every new generation finds its own conventions, they had found theirs. She was their very own source of happiness and resplendence.
They were slow and sleepy because she had woken them up at such an ungodly hour. They were sad too. After all, it was time to say goodbye. At least, for a little while.
For two blissful days, they had accepted her in their fold. Played with her. Caressed her. Embraced her. Soothed her. Enveloped her in their tranquilising coolness. Made her skip her meals. Brought out the child in her. Reminded her of all the happy moments in her life. Made the unhappy ones seem easily bearable. Pulled her back in whenever she tried to get back to the shore. And now she was off home.
She was as unwilling as them. Neither of them had had enough of the other. But neither of them could help it.
Like children, the little waves quickly abandoned their sadness and returned to do what they do best – embrace her with open arms again.
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I wish life had subtitles. I wish it would offer an explanation, justify its moves, publish an itinerary. Since it doesn't, I guess I'll have to plunge into its dark recesses and look for it all myself. You coming?
2 comments:
this is pretty deep stuff ashish..
simple yet profound: girlish yet womanly...i love the essence of your passage. moreover it's so pictorial and vivid that it transports me immediately to the magical moonlit shores.
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