Snow falls, erasing my prints. Yet minutes had passed and I hadn’t left her street. Because there was she was, looking from the window. I ran across the snowy street throwing the snow around and went at the door. It had to open. I wasn’t going to go back and lose this battle so easily. I started knocking on the door, anticipating a new start. A slow start.
She opened the door quite reluctantly but I only saw one thing that I always saw. Her lips. They were curled in such a way that it always fascinated me how would they sound. I looked in her eyes and went closer. A step further, she went a step back. I hugged as tightly as I could crushing all the incertitude and naivety that I had. A river doesn’t change its path when a traveller’s thirsty, it always stays the same. But I had realized that I wasn’t the traveler. I was the rock she eroded. Her undulating moods and her phases that kept breaking the very fine matrix I was built with. But did I care? No, because the only thing that mattered was her presence. She was the most beautiful person I had been with and yes, she smelled really good. I held her hand and said that, ‘Only if I lose myself, would I find myself again.’ She came close and hugged me again.
The world I had seen with her is a world that we all see. A perfect picture of love and sense. But I realized that she wasn’t just a mere human being for me now, she was a part of my faith. And how could I lose my faith? I saw her making food and listened to the really cacophonous sound of the mixture. She really liked cooking. I wanted to give her a hand but all I did was talk and arrange the table. After eating, we sat in her balcony watching the snow fall. It was still falling. It always tries to force its authority. The cold, insensitive environment. Suddenly I held her hand and made her stand up. Just as the winds started to blow, it made me dance with her. Watching her thoughtful eyes, I held her by her waist and danced to the mirth of my passion. Maybe a tear or two rolled down my cheek. She was an amazing person which I had told her a million times now. Repetition, monotony, complimenting, description. She shouldn’t expect only these things out of me. I wanted her to stay with me.
The next morning before she could wake up, I had to do one important thing. Make her breakfast. Running around the kitchen, dispersing food, I somehow conjured up an edible breakfast. She had thrown off her blanket in sleep and was shivering with cold. I covered her in blanket and waited for her to wake up. I admired how she had treated me last night. Respect and love are two scales of relationship which need to be balanced. I watched her mole. It was satisfying. She’s made me the man I have wasn’t. She’s made me the writer I wasn’t. She’s made me the composer I wasn’t. Confidence in myself, courage in myself, all her work. I should have known her earlier but these are strange wheels of time. I wanted to touch her, caress her and be with her but I had to wait for her to wake up. Holding her palm in my hand, I wrote what I wanted to do with my fingers. She twitched at times but didn’t wake up. Sometimes the world will tell you to be selfish and worthless. Break you down. Freeze your core. But I didn’t lose hope. I didn’t want to lose her. All I needed was her to wake up.
The snow had stopped falling. It had wiped my footprints but you can always make them again.
karanvankani 