It wasn't about a day!
His eyes were fixed on the letter post daily. He knew that she
wouldn't write to him anytime again but still there was quite a belief
that she would, someday or the other in the near future. Days combined
together in a bun, there was nothing else to witness than the loss of a
true lover. He knew, she would still be having his thoughts in her mind,
but he knew this too that she would no longer want to carry another
round of conversations with him. Knowing what had become of their
friendship, that feeling of love; how it had been brought to a
melancholy end, how everything seemed to fall apart. How at once, the
world seemed to skid away, things that were slipping away. It was in
that feeling that many emotions were composed.
There wasn't much room for any guilt but yes, there was a little wish, a keen desire; to know more about her. To know how she was, her well being. It was in that time, when they had no more talks for days, even they knew that they were waiting for each others initiative first to message but none of the duo came forward to keep relations as strong as those appeared for once in time. Their friendship looked like a forever thing and before love, came their connection of bonhomie. Now, it wasn't visible even.
This guy, Shamit would often linger around their favourite cafes and search about the tables to find her sitting there. She wasn't there, but he didn't add on to his vows. He cheered himself up easily, when he thought of his passion in life, to scribble on the canvas, the paint of imaginations and widespread thoughts. He had felt that the words that couldn't be spoken in a state of being an unknown, could be interpreted on the canvas with contentment. It was when no one stood to listen to his heart. At that time it was his passion that stood with strength to give him the same.
Another thing that spoke his heartiest volumes was his closeness with his art. He never sold those paintings, in her name; in her thoughts, in the bottled emotions that were collected together, to only describe how real the truth was, that he missed her and how in missing her, he could give to the world, a depiction, of how beautiful love was. The appreciation of beauty, the spark of a pearl, when adorned in a necklace and the gemstones that flickered with shine and marvels. Everything in a little thing, he thought by himself. Little thing was mind, that revolved around every single droplet of happiness, agony and remorse. That was life, he had thought.
Then one fine day, at his painting exhibition; he saw a group of friends, praising the paintings, on how every colour defined someone's heart. They hadn't known that in all paintings, only one heart breathed, it was of the friend of the painter. That girl, to whom he had once expressed his love, but it was let to be only there. She had other plans, new roads to follow; her dreams to fulfil. To her friendship was everything, but love wasn't what she wanted. To never let anyone give more importance to her than that person would give to his/her own self. Also, he wondered at times on how; she never wanted to share her emotions, her struggles with anyone. Shamit knew it all, and he was guiltless about the fact that he had told her what he had in his heart for her. But at the same time, he thought; how nicer it would have been, had he not expressed his feelings to her. Maybe, friendship wouldn't be broken and cleared in disarray. Whence he found the group of friends at his painting exhibition, he held his heart in his hands and brought that painting for them as a gift, a token of his appreciation of their amicable bondage. The painting, that he had drawn for the girl, for Ridhima. Shamit had at a point quite believed that he wouldn't hear from her again, he had lost his belief for a lifelong friendship with her. But, he wanted to thank the boys and girls, who made him walk back the memory lanes of his student life. He was just glad and felt that it defined their togetherness too, as it did to the togetherness of himself and Ridhima.
That day, he walked on the silent roads; it was quite cold and in that cool breeze, he felt that in his walk, he had been walking with Ridhima only. Her aura sensed to his feelings, her crazy talks moved him errands, her gentle touch on his face, to make him shut his stupid talks redefined yet again, as the winds hit him that night; bringing her back once again in his life.
Then he thought, that there was so much to celebrate in this life. One never knew if the people who mean a lot to us today, are going to be walking by our side always. They might have to leave, because that maybe the only choice for their goodness and happiness. Whilst at the same time, they won't be away, for however far they go, the imprints of their friendship would walk besides always. Shamit believed that Ridhima would also feel his presence, as he felt hers beside him, everywhere.
There wasn't much room for any guilt but yes, there was a little wish, a keen desire; to know more about her. To know how she was, her well being. It was in that time, when they had no more talks for days, even they knew that they were waiting for each others initiative first to message but none of the duo came forward to keep relations as strong as those appeared for once in time. Their friendship looked like a forever thing and before love, came their connection of bonhomie. Now, it wasn't visible even.
This guy, Shamit would often linger around their favourite cafes and search about the tables to find her sitting there. She wasn't there, but he didn't add on to his vows. He cheered himself up easily, when he thought of his passion in life, to scribble on the canvas, the paint of imaginations and widespread thoughts. He had felt that the words that couldn't be spoken in a state of being an unknown, could be interpreted on the canvas with contentment. It was when no one stood to listen to his heart. At that time it was his passion that stood with strength to give him the same.
Another thing that spoke his heartiest volumes was his closeness with his art. He never sold those paintings, in her name; in her thoughts, in the bottled emotions that were collected together, to only describe how real the truth was, that he missed her and how in missing her, he could give to the world, a depiction, of how beautiful love was. The appreciation of beauty, the spark of a pearl, when adorned in a necklace and the gemstones that flickered with shine and marvels. Everything in a little thing, he thought by himself. Little thing was mind, that revolved around every single droplet of happiness, agony and remorse. That was life, he had thought.
Then one fine day, at his painting exhibition; he saw a group of friends, praising the paintings, on how every colour defined someone's heart. They hadn't known that in all paintings, only one heart breathed, it was of the friend of the painter. That girl, to whom he had once expressed his love, but it was let to be only there. She had other plans, new roads to follow; her dreams to fulfil. To her friendship was everything, but love wasn't what she wanted. To never let anyone give more importance to her than that person would give to his/her own self. Also, he wondered at times on how; she never wanted to share her emotions, her struggles with anyone. Shamit knew it all, and he was guiltless about the fact that he had told her what he had in his heart for her. But at the same time, he thought; how nicer it would have been, had he not expressed his feelings to her. Maybe, friendship wouldn't be broken and cleared in disarray. Whence he found the group of friends at his painting exhibition, he held his heart in his hands and brought that painting for them as a gift, a token of his appreciation of their amicable bondage. The painting, that he had drawn for the girl, for Ridhima. Shamit had at a point quite believed that he wouldn't hear from her again, he had lost his belief for a lifelong friendship with her. But, he wanted to thank the boys and girls, who made him walk back the memory lanes of his student life. He was just glad and felt that it defined their togetherness too, as it did to the togetherness of himself and Ridhima.
That day, he walked on the silent roads; it was quite cold and in that cool breeze, he felt that in his walk, he had been walking with Ridhima only. Her aura sensed to his feelings, her crazy talks moved him errands, her gentle touch on his face, to make him shut his stupid talks redefined yet again, as the winds hit him that night; bringing her back once again in his life.
Then he thought, that there was so much to celebrate in this life. One never knew if the people who mean a lot to us today, are going to be walking by our side always. They might have to leave, because that maybe the only choice for their goodness and happiness. Whilst at the same time, they won't be away, for however far they go, the imprints of their friendship would walk besides always. Shamit believed that Ridhima would also feel his presence, as he felt hers beside him, everywhere.
Amazingly written.
ReplyDeleteThanks Drishti!! :) :)
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