As the mirth was fading away, I could see an unrelenting gloom settling down her face. Those gleaming soggy eyes and a lost face that was pulled down in disappointment; were all giving me the pangs of guilt. I could sense a prick in her heart. I wished to physically offer her a comforted hand but that was only a wish. A wish that flew away like a feather in the wind. The “moment” that came next leafed through some of my thoughts, memories, desires and wishes; yet all good, some old, some contemplation of good goals. And the “moment” that came further next shook me out of this stupor. In an abrupt haste my attention wandered away to her only to find her still sitting holding the same gestures: a face that was lost and pulled down in disappointment; eyes gleaming with sogginess stuck down to a point and I could still sense the prick in her heart. It was reminding me of a quote…”Silence has more eloquence.”
I knew she was more distressed than I was. It seemed inevitable to me for accustomed I was of her jubilation in my achievements that had always been on the higher notes than my notes had been. I, then mustered some strength to say to her, as I said anyway, “don’t play ignorant to the graph that life has drawn by plotting some failures, more challenges, open risks, hard-earned achievements, endless opportunities and ………” and the next moment I realized what I spoke, spoke on the other side of my mouth. Alas!!! More Alas and some more because she was still sitting holding the similar gestures: a lost face that was pulled down in disappointment; eyes gleaming with sogginess stuck down over a point and I was still sensing the prick in her heart.
My head then started hunting schemes to break her dedicated attention down and tell her that the life will not hold this situation everlastingly. I wish she could too sense what I was perceiving; what I was desiring and what I was determining the way I was sensing the prick in her heart. But she was so reclusively fixed to her “ecstasy of gloom” that she was still sitting in the similar way holding her gestures: a face that was lost and pulled down in disappointment. A few months have passed since. Now looking at her reminds me of another quote, “Time is a good healer”. Today she smiles, laughs, talks, reads, cooks, eats and does every routine chore. Nothing short of miraculous, she amateurishly and in humanly spirit does some motivational speaking too. That’s fairly worth that she has learnt to live as the things are. Nevertheless, she is breathing on a constant hope that some good is in the immediate offing perhaps. Meanwhile, that gloomy ecstasy is also occupied as someone else has occupied it !
Yes someone else has occupied it !! And that someone else is ME ! How I entered “that” ecstasy of gloom is not even known to me. Where have I lost my unrelenting hopes, my desires, my dreams, my life, my future is not even known to me. Today when I glance at her I see no hint of this irony on her face. Unfortunate for me that she doesn’t even know that “that” someone else is Me !! No matter what, at the moment I wish “her” to sense my gloom, like I sensed the prick in her heart. I wish “her” to help me get pulled out of “this” gloomy ecstasy like I helped her to. However, mine is only a wish, a wish that will flow away like a feather in the wind. A divine intervention and all I want is to see myself getting released from this gloom state ever and anon; and entering the world of charm, passion, inspiration, desperation and more But whatsoever for now merely ”I am” the one sitting alone in this “ecstasy of gloom” holding the gestures: a face that is lost and pulled down in disappointment; eyes gleaming with sogginess stuck down over a point ……with “no one” around to sense the prick in my heart.
I write a lot, which keeps me off the streets and out of trouble. There is always something to write about, always a new story to craft. Not writing, for me, is like trying to hold back a sneeze. Learning to write was the most powerful influence in my life. I can still remember the awe I felt when I realized I could put real words onto paper and tell out a story. From that first ‘a-ha’ moment I knew I wanted to write.
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