Been trying to write for a long time now. Half and nearly complete articles that sat in my archive are mercilessly deleted. Starting afresh, here goes--
“I believe that merely the passing of time can wear out the edges of anything remotely sharp. Case in point – sharp blades, peaks, anger, excitement. Anything that has attained the attribute of sharpness will wear out with time. But there are certain things that seem alien to the theories that my demented mind keeps peddling. I cannot for one, understand how she continues to maintain her steely cold reserve. The passage of time has had not an iota of effect on any of her actions or thoughts.
I watch her as she walks in each day, composed in thought and bearing a gritty resolve on her face. She works for hours at end,and remains undaunted by the challenges or the drab routines of our lives. An occasional flash of anger immediately subsides without giving away too much. Blinded by my affection for her and bound by my loyalty, I silently observe her actions each day. Not once do our eyes meet for long, but the moments that they share keep me going through the day. Never is there talk beyond the bare civilities that are exchanged on long corridors, but beneath the hushed hellos is a sweetness that I yearn for each morning.
But today was different, she was different today. A cool evening, thick clouds that cover the remnants of twilight, and a playful shower that promised to head back soon. Away from the eyes of the common crowds, she walks up the road to the hill. No rain could stop her, she marched on, resolute. A lone bench eagerly awaits her, but she does not spare the time. She lays her bag on it and walks to the edge of the road. She perched atop the concrete walls that lined the hills. I stood far away, unnoticed, uncertain. In two minds whether to walk up to her in the rain or stay here nestled under a distant tree, a lucid one among them ran scenarios of what could happen.
I watched her as she clutched her chain, tugging at the locket. She looked up at the sky gods in silent rebuke as if she was challenging them to a duel. Anger seemed evident, even from a distance. She did not hold on for long though, for in the patter of the rain I heard sobs from where she stood. A loss, an unshared pain – she held it close in the insolent rain. I had to decide, but it didn’t take much time; at least that is what I can recall of those moments. Before my conflicted mind could decide, I had. I walked away.”
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