WEATHERING A STORM

WEATHERING A  STORM

There was a natural instinct to drop our voices as we talked. This made the roar of the imminent storm a bit louder. Something seemed to overweigh us. There was something more than the natural sadness of a parting, although both of us knew it was not to be of a permanent nature. We would still be in touch, there would still be the pleasantries exchanged, but everything would be different now.

She would cease to have a tangible existence for me. She would no longer be the goddess of love I was once inclined to worship. Her presence would fade into the ether like a spirit; she would be like a sweet dream, or a frenzy of thoughts and emotions. She would disappear from my life like a sweet aroma. I didn’t relinquish her hand till the very last moment; I wanted to hold on to the last hope of happiness for a long time, I wanted to keep holding forever.

I could feel the ideal of ‘love’ flitting stealthily from my conscious world to another, even while we were together. We were together probably for the last time as lovers. Things would be very different now. Indian customs and traditions prohibit any form of platonic contact between a bachelor and a married woman. Even thinking of her would be a taboo for me now. The storm was still in the making, but it would blow over all our connodling, and all our strong and warm feelings. The patriarchal society we live in would take her to a different city, to a different culture, or it might even bring several nations between us.

She was headed for a journey. It wasn’t to be a short trip or tour, the adventure was to be a never ending one. I wasn’t going to be a part of it, I could be sure. It wasn’t to be anything like the premeditated drama we see in the media; its flow would depend on how The Great Dramatist has scripted it. Both of us would have to accept the fact that our future lies in different spheres. It would give me a chance to appreciate her importance in my life.

She was the one who had fetched me out of the abysmal abyss of depression I once found myself in. We had been together when the sun beat down mercilessly on me, and even when it rained. She is still by my side as I prepare for the gusts of wind that would blow us apart. The gusts of wind would make her a part of my history. I would certainly feel better with the passage of time, while she would soon forget all about me.

The only point I can console myself with is that she had always been faithful with me in one form or the other. She had had many embodiments. There have been countless instances when my heart stopped beating for a while and resumed its journey after a while. They could be given different names, but all seem to be merely a transient condition representing her. She reigns supreme over all of them. Perhaps this was the last time my heart missed a beat. I still see a typical divinity in her.  She might be a mere conception, a light of the eye, or a parting of the lips. She is indescribable.  But the important point is that she would now be a friend to someone else, and an alien to me. She would leave a huge gap in my life, and proceed to fill the voids in someone else’s life.

Every new day would bring fresh challenges for them. I don’t doubt their capability in countering the tides of time and fate, but I hope life deals in a manner different from what it has been with me. Life is never easy for anyone, but I hope they don’t meet the problems I faced. I badly wish I could be a part of their happiness. I wish I could pack myself in a suitcase that would accompany her. The distant rumbling of the clouds has come quite near, and it has, at length, brought what it promised by these vagaries---rain.