I smell Xewali as I silently sneak in the misty evening.
October it is, the dusk settling in through timid flakes.
The dotted white and saffron streaks brighten the night sky.
The smell of xewali pierces the evening gloom
And take me in a roller coaster ride.
I see a girl with a missing tooth carefully bending to the ground
She picks xewalis each morning to adorn her grandma's hair
How happy, how carefree her life seems
A blackening cloud drip drops out of a weeping sky.
I get jolted back.
Back to the ground,
Back to this October gloom,
But, the smell of xewalis linger as I move back.
"My love is enough for both of us", she often felt those words ring in her heart. She finally had understood that life wouldn't always follow her designs. That people are meant to leave but their memories won't. She often had wondered how someone could love her to such an extent when that person had always known that she wouldn't reciprocate those feelings. How could a person stand by her when she always acted as a fleeting shadow. She never had given hope for she knew the pain of dejection but he kept hoping like a hopeless vagabond. How she wished that he would some day hate her enough to let go. She devised ways to free him from this web, she acted cold, turned indifferent, did everything he detested and she finally saw some changes. It was a relief, he finally seemed to take hold of his life. She could see him grow responsible. He finally it seemed was learning to love himself. Phone calls died, meetings subsided, they become known strangers. All this while ...
Memories are a means of time travel. That's the only thing that defies all the physics to give us a ride to our past. And it doesn't carry any butterfly effect which makes our return journey to the present a safe one.
ReplyDeleteVery true. So, it's like being etched to life through memories. Time flies but memories remain.
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