An Implicit Metaphor
She turned to look at me while she walked out of the door as if she wanted me
to say something to her; I didn’t know what to say. We had been talking for
quite a while, we talked of everything
under the blue sky, but there was still a lot to be said and much more to be
heard.
Words could no longer fill in the blanks left gaping in whatever
time we spent together. There had to be something more concrete now. She was
walking out of the door quietly, she wanted my me to say words signifying the
concrete entity, something I didn’t know how to articulate in words: I remained
silent despite her questioning look.
This went on for quite a few seconds. She knew the very
words that were supposed to emanate from my mouth, she only wanted to hear me
say them. I didn’t know what to say to her. An implicit metaphor had been exchanged
between us on several occasions. Their actual concrete form was an enigma for
me; I had had the feelings for her for a long time, but I had never expressed
them in so many words.
The incumbent situation made it almost impossible for me to
confess all I felt. She knew the presence of so many strangers in the room
created an awkward situation, but she wanted me to say it to her all the same.
It was quite a challenge for me, and I wasn’t in a position
to take it up. It wasn’t difficult to articulate all sounds she wanted to hear,
but I was wary of the consequences. It was to mean an end to many queries
echoing in her mind, while it was to mean an initiation of a new phase of my
life.
A lot was to be said and a lor more was to be heard before that phase was be initiated. I
felt sure it had already been said in a typical manner; words were not
required.
I had called out her name loudly when she had entered the hall,
she had heard me, but I was struggling
with the exact words she wanted me to say to her. It was as if I owed her a sum
of money and I couldn’t find the money in my pockets. Coins were jingling
around, I knew they were somewhere around me, but I couldn’t lay my hands on them.
Even after I had found the coins, I couldn’t be sure of the
sum I owed her. I wasn’t sure if I owed her any money at all. I wasn’t sure if
I should be saying it to her, but she seemed to be cock-sure of my debt to her.
The truth is I wasn’t sure if she was going to take it
quietly if I uttered those words. I wasn’t sure of her reaction. My mind was in
a tussle: while a part of it was thinking
of throwing all caution into thin air and confessing my feelings, a part of it
was still considering the appropriateness of my confession.
If she didn’t react adversely to my confession, and if she
too felt the same way for me, it was going to spell ecstasy for me. If my words
were not taken in their proper context, if it boomeranged, it was going to
spell disaster for me.
I didn’t have a valid reason to be negative about it, but I
didn’t have a reason to be positive about it either. Her thoughts and feelings
about me were submerged in a deep ocean of emotions like a submarine patrolling
a deep ocean.
They had made their presence loud and clear in an implicit
manner, but she wanted me to be the first to confess my feelings, and be
explicit about them. She was waiting for me to do so even as she was moving out
of the room.
I was supposed to take the initiative. I began to wonder why
she couldn’t be the first to take the plunge. The waters were certainly cold,
the weather was certainly frosty, and it was going to take a lot of courage for
whoever takes the first dip. This wasn’t a test to evaluate each other’s
resilience, I know.
My mind went back to all similar instances in my past. Consequences
of so many adventures littering my history have been so ugly that I find myself
shivering in my pants when I even think of taking up another adventure.
I didn’t want to take an initiative in this case, but
sometimes, we are pushed into a boiling cauldron full of oil even if we don’t
want to. The oil in the cauldron was scathing hot, and I was wary of jumping
into it.
It was to be quite hot. All my body was going to be burnt,
my skin was going to peel itself off. I thought twice of it.
If I didn’t confess my feelings before her, she was merely
going to walk out of the room, and out of my life too, and shall probably never
be back in any form again.
I was going to lose an important anchor in my life. She had
held me tightly in a grip while strong winds blew around me.
She was a shield which had guarded me when the weather had
taken a turn for the evil. She still formed an important part of me. I couldn’t
let her go.
On second thoughts, she was leaving me because she knew I
couldn’t stand against societal-pressure and parental-objection. I am certainly
not strong enough to bear all this stress and strain.
I am more likely to be grounded like an airplane that has
run out of fuel. Even the thought of a mid-air refilling is like a pilot’s
nightmare turning into a sweet dream. It is not going to be feasible.
At the end of the day, both of us jumped into the water
together, and it wasn’t that bad after all.
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