The Conversation

 

I had never seen her like this before. She squatted down and muttered to herself. But like all the other times, her face glowed even in the dark as if sun rays had crept inside her magnificent face and were there to stay. She seemed alone even in the midst of this mad crowd. I could sense she had feigned ignorance of her surroundings and immersed herself in a strange world she called her own now. I attempted to break through to her. I believed if she could hear me I would meet success. But she could not hear me. I might have been the only one who could reach her in her darkness. But I had my own demons to fight. My battles were not less dangerous than hers. Just that I had a strategy in place and had devised it and everyday reviewed and modified it as if it were a grand scheme.

Sun set and the crowd disappeared. I found myself standing there alone, again. Did I have anyone besides her I could call my own? If not, then why did I lie to the rest of the world? Why was I so confident that I would be missed if today I lost my purpose to live? Perhaps this confidence I assured myself with was fake, fake like her smile when she looked at me, fake like the dimple on my face as I pretended to smile. “There is no such thing as life of passion any more than there is a continuous earthquake,” Lord Byron wrote. I kept reminding myself this in the middle of my pursuit of passion. Perhaps it is this pursuit that bound us together, me and her. The sky, now, had a rainbow of colors that smeared like stained blood on its forehead. I found solace in it as I stood there staring into its vastness. She was yet to see it. I didn’t know if she could see it, if she could see past her own misery. Her sorrows darkened her soul and crept into her mind now like a sneaky snake with a devious plan. I stood there, however, looking for happiness in the sky. Why? How would I know that answer? I looked for happiness anywhere I found some form of peace. Maybe I could suggest the same to her? But her sorrows were different from mine. Mine were shapeless whereas she could give hers a name. I watched her from my corner, the corner I put myself in. I felt safe here, as if no one could harm me as long as I stayed here.

Days went by as if they had a mission to complete and they were competing against each other to see who would win at the end of the mission. I couldn’t seem to keep up with their mission. I struggled to distinguish between my days aspiring to be successful at the end. How did I define this success? Was it if I found a kosher aim in life? Or was it obscure and fuzzy like the thin line of separation between my days? With each day, my appreciation for her cultivated into something larger than life. I admired her for being able to contain all her emotions in her heart and evaporate into thin air, as if no one would be able to find her even if they believed in the unattainable. Society was outrageous to make us feel substandard and worthless. But she did not pay much attention to the society. It was me who could not abstain from the suffering caused by the harsh and duplicitous rat race that everyone seemed to find themselves in. She remained oblivious and concealed from it all.

I had spent days, now, attempting to connect with her and find the long lost sense of belonging I wished to reunite with. But I know, now, that I had failed. I could not get through to her anymore than she could get through to me. Sometimes I could not recognize her. I beseeched myself everyday unexceptionally. Today, however, I could see her countenance as clear as a beautiful sunny spring day with blooming flowers. Her immaculate expression narrated a story. She seemed despondent and yet there was a sense of accord in her voice. She mirrored my life. I could see my face on her face now. Was that so atypical that I was aroused by the thought of her now? I could feel what she was feeling. I could hear her deepest and darkest thoughts. It was as if I was her inner voice. Could she sense that now? Is that why she suddenly became so timid? I did not care. There was not a single streak of worry in my bone. My heart was just filled with irreproachable happiness. This happy feeling could be fleeting but if it was here to stay my heart would only be elated with immense joy.  Our lives mirrored each other. Our lives ran parallel even though we lived in completely different worlds. How could our lives share this common thread when we both had chosen different paths in life? I cross examined and interrogated myself hoping to find a response, perhaps a retort of some kind. But life had always been anomalistic to me. I seemed to be involved in a perpetual state of imbalance. Maybe in one of these eccentric states, I had found the sanity that supported my existence today. Did she feel the same? I didn’t know. I didn’t need to know. All I needed to know was that our bond was brass-bound and indestructible. All I needed to know was that our passion was limitless and could surpass the normal mode of continuance. It gave me hope, the hope of survival and a hope of living in absoluteness away from imagination and theory.