The untold moments:
His fingers were dancing on the keyboard while he wrote reams of pages. His thoughts about his own self and about the changing time. It did not bother him if he was typecasting himself in a negative light. He had to write and so he did. Unrelentingly. And then there came a moment when he stopped typing. There was an abrupt silence in the surroundings. I looked up into his eyes, and saw a long story welling up in his eyes. He could not write further. Moving back with the chair he had moved away from the world now. He picked up his bag, his glasses, checked his mobile and walked out of the door, closing it behind him.
Together, alone:
He didn't love her any longer; he had always known this but today when he spoke about her he realized it all the more that he was holding on to the cracks of the relationship from widening further, but for a very long time he didn't look at it as it had crumbled in his own palms; he was just holding on to the rubble of his life. He still stood with her, not as a companion but as an error that had cut his life into two halves. There was no show of consolation of a mutual feeling and if it ever existed from her for him in return, they didn't care any longer to look at it. He had failed, they had failed but still what emerged from this rubble were the little buds which would bloom and make his life worth living. And he in fact had lived for them.
Salvation at sunset :
Neither had he come to conquer nor to make his mark. He had come to wipe off the marks he had made in his last visit. He rubbed the mirror incessantly. He cleaned it and what he saw of himself was far different from what he once was. He saw an old, withdrawn image of himself which reflected that at last he was at peace with himself. Peace came, though late, as he now realizes, comes after many winters and in his case it came at a time when no sense of loss bewildered him any longer. He forgave those who had hurt him and apologized to all but one for having wronged them. The one who would never come and he would wait till eternity for that moment of forgiveness. He opened the last window and saw that the sun had already set. Leaving his spectacles on the window sill, he closed his eyes and feeling the cool breeze gently strike his face, he said to himself, ‘Do not despair, as I am coming there soon and you won’t be alone then.'
His fingers were dancing on the keyboard while he wrote reams of pages. His thoughts about his own self and about the changing time. It did not bother him if he was typecasting himself in a negative light. He had to write and so he did. Unrelentingly. And then there came a moment when he stopped typing. There was an abrupt silence in the surroundings. I looked up into his eyes, and saw a long story welling up in his eyes. He could not write further. Moving back with the chair he had moved away from the world now. He picked up his bag, his glasses, checked his mobile and walked out of the door, closing it behind him.
Together, alone:
He didn't love her any longer; he had always known this but today when he spoke about her he realized it all the more that he was holding on to the cracks of the relationship from widening further, but for a very long time he didn't look at it as it had crumbled in his own palms; he was just holding on to the rubble of his life. He still stood with her, not as a companion but as an error that had cut his life into two halves. There was no show of consolation of a mutual feeling and if it ever existed from her for him in return, they didn't care any longer to look at it. He had failed, they had failed but still what emerged from this rubble were the little buds which would bloom and make his life worth living. And he in fact had lived for them.
Salvation at sunset :
Neither had he come to conquer nor to make his mark. He had come to wipe off the marks he had made in his last visit. He rubbed the mirror incessantly. He cleaned it and what he saw of himself was far different from what he once was. He saw an old, withdrawn image of himself which reflected that at last he was at peace with himself. Peace came, though late, as he now realizes, comes after many winters and in his case it came at a time when no sense of loss bewildered him any longer. He forgave those who had hurt him and apologized to all but one for having wronged them. The one who would never come and he would wait till eternity for that moment of forgiveness. He opened the last window and saw that the sun had already set. Leaving his spectacles on the window sill, he closed his eyes and feeling the cool breeze gently strike his face, he said to himself, ‘Do not despair, as I am coming there soon and you won’t be alone then.'
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