They paint life into a mosaic of colors, both bright and somber. Describing the journey as maddening and exasperating, they still talk of a final destination that is wreathed in smiles. They say the sun sets every evening, but it rises yet again the next morning. And just like that, we must get on our feet and continue walking the road to the unknown, despite the countless times that we trip and fall. I had been walking along a similar path, regardless of the unannounced ordeals that awaited me. I wielded a shield of hope in hand, and possessed a terribly conflicted mind that clearly wasn’t in sync with my soul’s rhythm. Nevertheless, owing obedience and loyalty to my countable well wishers, I had to fathom the depth of my purpose, and the journey’s end. But just as a lost traveler succumbs to the scorching heat of the nameless desert, after hours of wandering like a disoriented animal, separated from his herd, I too had found myself standing at a mountain high, from the top of which I could only see the glittering blue ocean. I too had reached an end, after walking clueless into the road less traveled. From the peak of the mountain, either of the two could be my possibility- I could choose to jump and drown myself in the surging waves as the heavy currents caught on to me, or I could let myself loose and swim through, till I found a shore to get back on.
It is times like these when you realize life often plays tricks on you. It is sudden moments like these that take you by sheer surprise, and when you feel like you’ve lost it all, a tiny ray of sunshine from somewhere far away tells you it was all a bad dream, and reality appears promising. Specific to me, the source of that glowing light was a young man in his late twenties, who simply stood by and let out an endearing smile that flooded my heart with overwhelming sweetness. He is a magician, oblivious of his supernatural powers that he possesses. He would smile at you, and all of the sudden you would feel your lips curve as your cheekbones gradually appear a tinge of berry, and just like that, you’ll catch yourself smiling! His single touch could make your body tingle, as your heart would begin to beat ever so furiously, and your shortened breaths would remind you of the sudden jitter. He could take you into his arms and all that misery that had sworn it’s loyalty to you, would abandon your soul in seconds, leaving you in tranquility and mental bliss. His voice isn’t unusually coarse and dense, but his casual “hello” has the terrific ability to lift you up and get you dancing, each time you answer his call.
And just like that, he waved his magic wand and blinked his angelic eyes, and I knew even if I had nothing on the shore, I had to swim towards it. I knew drowning was not an option, since my journey hasn’t yet concluded. Even though I might call him a savior, as he pulled me out of the tightening grip of damage and agony, he sternly asked me to become my own cure, for only I knew the bruises that were in need of remedy. Although I instantly gave him my timid heart, absolutely certain he would not toss it away; he took it but hadn’t laid any claim yet. He kept it safe and still does, but has been careful to not wrap it up in promises that he can’t keep. He requested for some good time, so he witnesses the growth of a strong woman in me, who would never shed a second tear but only laugh and live.
In my own world, I have made him mine, for I know he still is oblivious of the ascendency that he has on me. And although I plead my stars each night that someday he too makes me his, and kisses my hand to promise a lifetime of togetherness, I fear the Universe would help my cause, considering history and its games with me. Nevertheless a New Year has begun, and I no longer rely on the heavens for my rewards, but on my actions as testimony to why I deserve what I’ve been asking for. Somewhere deep within, I know I ain’t a terrible human. Somehow I know I can love like no other. And some way I’m certain, only he can love me the right way. The only thing I await is for our stars to align. And the day that happens, I’d finally be able to call myself an author of my own life, rather than a storyteller who creates lives. My fiction would someday turn authentic, and something tells me we’re meant to be.
Reflections of the eccentric bard! 