Mystical Rendezvous


Mystical Rendezvous - fi


I have seen her many a times before, but time never coagulates and nor does vicious cycle of life. This seems like my first rendezvous with her. A serene face clad in a white sari, a veil for her open wounds. Bogged down by so many burdens, her beauty flickered like a candle light in the airs of trials and tribulations. Her blue smoldering eyes looking for a soul to relief her grief. She has so much to utter but none is willing to lend an ear. It appears as if her windpipe is also ceasing her from being eloquent as it knows that no one will understand and above all nobody is bothered.

I talked to her and felt as if old friends have reproached each other after years. She wanted to blurt out all her pains at once. May be she too was looking for a companion. I could not cease myself from empathizing for her. Her teeth were shaking. They were howling when everyone has parted their ways from her. Why are we left alone? They too are craving to leave. Life seems to be an endless wearing journey for her. After the demise of her husband the charm of her pallor has disappeared somewhere. She has one daughter who is the only counterpart of her sullen journey.

She told me that she has fallen a few days back and after that she finds it difficult to speak. Consequently, all her emotions and pain have bugged inside her heart. For me she means a lot because in my childhood I have spent a considerable part with her and her jaunty husband. Both of them used to treat me no less than their near ones. Though I used to visit them only in my summer vacations but really sparing time with them was always experiencing a hunky dory world.

This lady in white was always close to my heart. Though we were miles apart, still appended with each other. But now I feel so nostalgic recalling all those splendid days and looking back at the visage of this lady I grieve, for I cannot hold her pain. Alas, I have to go back bearing the pain of separation from her in my heart as I have immense love for her. The lady whose life looms like a mirage.



Richa Sharma

An observer, I love to explore edges of life and the intricacies of human minds. Reading books, sketching and music are sources of my bliss and peace both.