The Eyes

THE EYES


The eyes were something that I wanted to own. There was my future packed into her retina: I wanted to possess my future. Looking into her eyes was like looking into a looking glass that could tell the future. The future is always exciting, specially if it is tinged with a bit of vice. The contours of her face had the potential to make me think of felony. Her eyes had the depth of the cosmos, but I did my best to stay afloat in the sea of emotions they stirred within me. They made me wish for another life that would be full of the vigour and splendour of youth. Looking into her eyes was like looking into the peace and tranquility of heaven through the latticed windows of my life.

The latticed windows of my life had let through sunlight and dust with such ferocity in the past few years that I’d begun to wonder if the yawning difference between my wishes and the reality would ever be bridged. Her eyes showed me the bridge to reality. They brought the sky with all its paraphernalia of stars and comets to the ground. They reminded me that my life has been following the untrodden path. They reminded me of the never-ending life that would follow this finite life on earth. Her eyes had the joy and novelty in a child’s eyes when it sees a new toy. The four points of the compass converged into the wells of Arabia symbolized by here eyes.

Her eyes were hidden for a split second when she blinked: the radiant sun was covered behind dark clouds for a split second. The world around me was covered in layers of dark clouds for a moment. The world around me was as dark as the overclouded night without the two beacons of life and hope. The darkness reminded me of the darkness of the screen on which movies are screened. I tried to make out the protagonists in the drama of her life as it must have unfolded before her. I began to wish to be a part of her story, I wanted to be a part of the solution to the problems that life would bring before her. Her eyes were like the wishing-well that grants every wish that one makes. I wanted to make a wish. Her eyes seemed to be the origin of all my wishes, they had the key to their fulfillment. They were like HG Well’s time machine that took the protagonist back and forth through time.

Time did its best to hypnotise me, and I did my best to break the trance. I’m not sure of who emerged as the victor. The passage of time has not been able to erase the sketch of her eyes from my memory. They were the antithesis of war, and yet I could see the progenitor of all the conflict in the world in her eyes. In a small way , the strife in the world seemed to be quite puny before the conflict her eyes aroused within me.

I wanted to go back to the time when all my troubles began. I wanted to fix all the errors that time had committed. Time moves on despite all our attempts at securing control over it. No one can control the flow of destiny, the past shall slowly but surely be obscured behind the thick curtains of time. Time shall bring a new day full of new experiences and adventures after every cycle of sunrise and sunset, but her eyes shall be with me for a long time reminding me of the many things that I discovered in her eyes that day.