It’s a quarter away from seven and the skies are whispering rain. We’re on a patch of green that almost caresses my bare feet as we walk along aimlessly to a spot empty enough to huddle five. You can feel the wind brush your hair away with the taste of thunder on its tongue.
There’s a half moon
On the blue project paper,
Of silver glitter
And a full moon reflection.
He checked the number of suitcases one more time. Checked the locks. All good. He glanced at the room, taking it in; the subtle changes in it. The addition of a new cupboard that was filled with a new set of clothes that belonged to someone else, the jewelry box that was settled in the lower drawer on the left hand side of the dressing table; the tiny studded silver box filled with vermilion on top. The change of sharing in the air, that someone else was also walking these wooden floors; brushed the switches with their fingertips accordingly; warmed themselves with the same blanket as he did; dreamt on the same bed. That he shared his life with someone else too now.
It was surreal, in ways he couldn’t fathom any words to express. But it was beautiful.
The soft tinkling of her anklets accompanied her as she took her steps on the petal-ed path towards her future. Wondering. Wondering if the path continued to be the same. Or would it prick her feet? She saw the kids playing around, running after each other oblivious to the brimming emotions. Perhaps they were playing Catch Me If You Can? She smiles remembering her childhood; running around in the garden, hiding behind trees, portraying her artistic skills on the freshly pressed lavender colour cotton frock with white frills her mother had so patiently cleaned the very last week, and how she always won with her brothers; how they’d just miss to catch her. She’s the youngest in the house. Her eyes filled with tears, threatening to spill. “No. No. Not now.” she moaned. The poor lady worked so hard on her makeup, and she was rather fond of the way she’d highlighted her hazel coloured eyes. No, she wasn’t going to drown the world right away. That could wait till the bidai. God, it’s going to be Noah’s Ark all over again. She’d heard the baarat come in all their glory; dancing, singing, celebrating. What’s that song the band’s playing? She can’t recall it now but she can’t stop her feet tapping to the beat, the anklets’ singing drowning in the celebrations sent to the heavens; they reminded her of the vacation in Dubai during the World Record New Year. The last New Year she spent as a princess. She took a few more cautious steps. A few more baited breaths.
Continue reading The New Beginning Jitters-Part I.