When Wishes Come True
Her eyes gave away a lot about her. They were screaming what her lips could never ever articulate in any words. They wanted to say something to me, and my eyes were ready to perceive any message they could decipher in her eyes. I saw a whole lot of the drama of life as it unfurled itself before her every day. All protagonists were different, and luckily, I too figured in her list. All of them had performed their respective roles and had left the stage; I was the only one left.
There was a marked difference between the worlds I saw in her eyes and the world I perceived to be floating in mine. Her facial expression changed a bit when she realised I had been looking at her. Her consciousness of my gaze made her all the more attractive. She knew I was appreciating her looks: this was what she had spent a whole day yearning for. She had been pining for attention from someone, and I’m sure her hart jumped up through a rainbow when she saw it coming from me.
I didn’t know the worth of my attention till she gave me a hint of its appreciation: she smiled. There was a gratefulness in her smile I’ve wanted to display when a baby waves back to me. I always feel it to be an honour when a baby I wave to waves back to me. I wonder if she conferred an honour on me by smiling back at me. I felt sure it meant a lot more than an expression of joy. Somehow, I knew Cupid had a fair hand in sketching it on her face. There was a synchronic motion of her eyelashes which displayed her pleasure at the attention she got. I never knew a miniscule of it from my quarter had the power and potential it appeared to have now. I gave her some more of it, I stared at her a bit harder.
The two of us were looking at each other, while everyone else was looking elsewhere. After a short while, it made me vaguely uncomfortable when I realised a stranger was staring at me; although she seemed to enjoy every bit of attention she got from me. There wasn’t even a slight hint of uneasiness in her eyes even as my eyes delivered a consistent dose of attention on her. I wonder if there was an iota of immaturity reflected in her smile. Mature women don’t smile at strangers, I reminded myself.
For a while, I wondered if this was a hint of her being anywhere near being immoral. She couldn’t possibly be the perfect, ideal, virtuous and pious woman I had idealised in my mind for a long time. I wanted to know what she was if she wasn’t all this to me.
This wasn’t a dream. This was a reality before me. I pinched myself twice to make sure I wasn’t dreaming, and I really wasn’t. There is a strong barrier between truth and fiction and she had managed to break it. She had walked into reality. After all these years, I’ve realised this was a dream I was looking at with my eyes open. The boundary between the two has often been quite hazy and vague, at least in my case.
All said and done, I’ve always wanted my dreams to assume a real form. Here was when my wish was coming true, or at least I wanted it to be true. I hope all my wishes come true.
Her eyes gave away a lot about her. They were screaming what her lips could never ever articulate in any words. They wanted to say something to me, and my eyes were ready to perceive any message they could decipher in her eyes. I saw a whole lot of the drama of life as it unfurled itself before her every day. All protagonists were different, and luckily, I too figured in her list. All of them had performed their respective roles and had left the stage; I was the only one left.
There was a marked difference between the worlds I saw in her eyes and the world I perceived to be floating in mine. Her facial expression changed a bit when she realised I had been looking at her. Her consciousness of my gaze made her all the more attractive. She knew I was appreciating her looks: this was what she had spent a whole day yearning for. She had been pining for attention from someone, and I’m sure her hart jumped up through a rainbow when she saw it coming from me.
I didn’t know the worth of my attention till she gave me a hint of its appreciation: she smiled. There was a gratefulness in her smile I’ve wanted to display when a baby waves back to me. I always feel it to be an honour when a baby I wave to waves back to me. I wonder if she conferred an honour on me by smiling back at me. I felt sure it meant a lot more than an expression of joy. Somehow, I knew Cupid had a fair hand in sketching it on her face. There was a synchronic motion of her eyelashes which displayed her pleasure at the attention she got. I never knew a miniscule of it from my quarter had the power and potential it appeared to have now. I gave her some more of it, I stared at her a bit harder.
The two of us were looking at each other, while everyone else was looking elsewhere. After a short while, it made me vaguely uncomfortable when I realised a stranger was staring at me; although she seemed to enjoy every bit of attention she got from me. There wasn’t even a slight hint of uneasiness in her eyes even as my eyes delivered a consistent dose of attention on her. I wonder if there was an iota of immaturity reflected in her smile. Mature women don’t smile at strangers, I reminded myself.
For a while, I wondered if this was a hint of her being anywhere near being immoral. She couldn’t possibly be the perfect, ideal, virtuous and pious woman I had idealised in my mind for a long time. I wanted to know what she was if she wasn’t all this to me.
This wasn’t a dream. This was a reality before me. I pinched myself twice to make sure I wasn’t dreaming, and I really wasn’t. There is a strong barrier between truth and fiction and she had managed to break it. She had walked into reality. After all these years, I’ve realised this was a dream I was looking at with my eyes open. The boundary between the two has often been quite hazy and vague, at least in my case.
All said and done, I’ve always wanted my dreams to assume a real form. Here was when my wish was coming true, or at least I wanted it to be true. I hope all my wishes come true.
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