The quest of love..

   

                                                                                             

       She trudged along the winding staircase.She ran her fingers on the old charm tiles with peacocks embedded below the balustrade as she climbed along the steps carefully.

Steps were narrow.Her eyes admired the intricate work.It resembled her life. You'd have to look closely to understand its flow.Or its make.

It was an old building.The enchanting glass work windows glistened bright- prussian blue, vermillion red, lemon yellow and transcending green which lit up against the sun during the day and 

The colourful light made the entire stairway look entrancing.It was one of the reasons she married him,to live in the old world charm building made of wood.. and adorned with beautiful artwork,apart from the fact that her parents wanted her to marry him as he was a  'man who looked wealthy and full of values.'

     Also because she didn't have any opinion or judgement against him.Infact,she didn't build opinions against anyone..She knew it is not the person..but the circumstances that makes a man what he is...So she believed she could live with him..in the old building..situated in a small town far way from the crowd..yet far away from desertion..somewhere in between the two worlds..

    She cooked for two..which was seldom consumed by two.She attired for his attention..he hardly ever looked.She waited long nights..he would rarely come back home..She smelt of jasmine and sandalwood.He smelt of liquor and betrayal.

   She longed for sharing the bed  in somebody's arms..for the lock of eyes that is indulged in to express the unstated desires.. folds of bedsheet to convey the story of a passionate night..for a rumpled jasmine garland that now sits still in her wavy hair..wafting away the fragrance that titillates no one..but her. She palpated the absence of a man in the house in her heart..

     

     She was like a rock..didn't need anything to sustain on..but longed the company of the blades of grass that would sprout out from below the rock only to add some green in the dull grey.

    

    She still sits by the window pane waiting for him to arrive..and allow the flowers of jasmine do its work..while she does hers..to await her love.

P.S. I don't know why I write about women.I guess its cause they are beautiful souls inside..So many emotions..such unstated expressions.. 

    

                                                                                             

Casting away the ugliness..

   She placed a red bindi on her forehead and looked into the mirror.Intricately designed,the mirror had cracks spanning in various directions.It was smudged with persistent spot-like marks which more or less covered the mirror half way.She chose it because it was that way. As it was a mirror in which she could see only half her face. The half she liked looking at.

  A woman in her 30's.Long,dark,wavy hair flowed from her mane and reached her waist slightly brushing against it while she moved about doing her daily chores. She liked the feel. Because there was hardly anything except her own feel she had ever experienced in her lifetime.Her mother weaved her a long braid when she was young and told her beautiful tales as she went about the task. However her memories faded with time.What doesn't? Everything is meant to be volatile. Love.Family.Trust.Life..

 She was a playful child. Like all girls her age,she dreamt of a prince who would fall in love with her,talk through the gazing eyes and look for her amongst the stars in the night sky.Thus she had dreams. Dreams big and small.However nothing makes the dreams shatter like a resounding laugh of mockery of the fellow mates when they know your innermost desires. She was laughed at. For dreaming so.How can she? they asked unbelievably.She had a face which was wrinkled into innumerable folds due to a corrective surgery after she was victimized in a fire when she was a toddler. Which common man let alone a prince would want to gaze into her eyes however soulful they were?

  So she lived casted away in a room of loneliness with dreams.Dreams were shattered but not quite gone.No man ever teased her or playfully pulled her long braid. No man ever thought about her the way every girl dreams for.No man took any interest in the twinkle of her trinket or looked into her gazing eyes lined with kohl.Other women cried about broken relationships,some cried about how disgusting men are but she cried for the presence of a soul to not look at her face and turn away.She wanted someone to look at her beyond the ugly folds of destiny of which she was unfortunately made part of. There came days when she gave in to the nights of loneliness and wept out her heart's desire to find some solace from her ill fate.

 Others never understand you.Only you can understand what your heart desires.She gave away social life and started living her life her way.She began to cherish the other half of her face she liked looking at.She looks beautiful everyday.In the mirror.In her mind.She realised no man will ever see the beauty of the other side of her face..as they are all stuck up on the wrong side.

 Slowly rising from the dressing table she put aside the mirror. She was beautiful today. The half mirror reflected her radiant face.She found the half damaged mirror beautiful. Only she can understand the pain of what it means to be halfway where you dreamed to be.Her hair brushing against her waist and giving her the pleasure of being touched.Touched and loved.By herself.


xxx