A horde of cultural symbols
declared her marital status. There was a tint of the early dawn on her cheeks,
the light of the stars in her eyes, a tinge of the rain cloud in her tresses,
and a bindi and sindoor on her forehead. I could hardly believe
my eyes when I saw her. It took me a while before I realized that some of the
most sublime moments of my life were passing before my eyes. The austerity and
peace of the moment would gradually and surely fade behind the curtains of
time, but for a while, I was taken aback by her very presence. The clink of her
bangles brought me back into the world. The red bangles were symbolic of the
partnership I had to forego, but someone luckier than me had been able to cash
on.
I wasn’t sure if I was really
happy she had found bliss in someone’s company, or should I curse my fate for
it. She seemed to be very happy. I’m glad I vacated my seat in the Delhi Metro
for her. Her very presence seemed to fill the entire coach with romance.
The glee and happiness of
marriage were clear on her face. This was an ocean whose depth I wanted to
measure. But I realized I wanted to fathom the depth of the ocean I couldn’t
possibly sink into. The intensity of the experience would gradually
disintegrate into commonplace experience, but I can still feel the warmth exuberated
by her very presence. Her demure gaze swept the floor of the coach ignoring my
presence. Obviously, she couldn’t fit me into the picture of her life anymore.
The equations had changed now.
She had moved on in life. Life deals in a fair
manner with those who are consistent and persistent in their efforts. I
sometimes wonder why life chose to be different and difficult with me. Perhaps
it is a matter of perception.
I was an integral part of her
past, but her present and future belonged to someone else. The bonding was highlighted
by the symbols she decorated herself with. But these were the very conflicting
points that had wavered us apart.
The redness of the bangles
didn’t match with the red colour of her lips, but they spoke the language of
her heart. Her heart beat for someone else now. I had no choice but to accept
my fat---I wasn’t a part of her anymore.
I badly wanted to be a pat of
her. I wanted to be with her as she crossed the roads of her life. Her company
would have made me forget the wickedness of the world. But all this is like a
beautiful dream that turned into a sad and dismal episode. We could have
crossed several roads together, but for her orthodox religious moorings. To
this day, I wonder if religion exists as a binding force or one that fosters
separation.
As I brace myself to cross a
road everyday, I realize the experience on the Delhi Metro has given me the
power to cross the roughest roads of my life. She had moved on in life, and it
is time I too moved ahead. The Delhi Metro moves on in its endless quest for a
junction everyday, and so do I.
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