Shadows at dusk

A lonely soul with a smiling face, she makes her way through the familiar ways and courtyards which at dusk seem to have gotten a melancholy personality of their own which she embraces, needing at this point of time just that. She appears completely absorbed, lost in a world of her own making, oblivious to the world around, unhearing of words that the music in her ears block out. She seems comfortable alone-not needing, not wanting anyone else. Her gait is non-purposeful, moving at its own pace and her eyes unseeing of anything but the dreams and moments that only they do.

They search the shadows for a like pair belonging to another soul as lonely as hers. Spilling your heart out to another person in the shadows has a fanciful ring attached to it that she with her romantic notions can’t get too much of. Just a little ahead she spots a familiar figure. Alas! Not one she is particularly excited about running into on a night like this. An irksome admirer, whose yearning glances she despite pretending to be blind to, hasn’t missed. She sidetracks him with a couple of niceties and lest he accompany her, hurries on.

Maybe…..just maybe she’ll encounter that person who has filled her thoughts for the past few weeks and that moment will break away the intriguing shell to reveal the person she is so keen to know. Maybe, just looking for a kindred spirit, any kindred spirit is her reason for walking alone and not thinking as she believes.

What she seeks now is comfort, the kind one gets from having someone with you to share just whatever uneasiness you have, that even a mere acquaintance becomes special to you because you’ve given a part of yourself to keep safe and that is what will join you together notwithstanding time and distance. This tie will bring a smile to your face when you think of that person.

She now finds herself nearing the corner she has claimed as her own- a quiet landing off the main street looking over the river. A place with a calming view and sound of water that helps her think and organize her thoughts. The words of the heroine in one of her favorite books come to mind- This is her Smultronställe. It means wild strawberry place in Swedish. Only it isn’t literally that. It is any place that is absolutely private and your own. A place like this is special, it’s the most special place there is. A place where life is….an epiphany. You can bring other people here. But never ever somebody you don’t love.

In her mind’s eye, she now sees an acquaintance strolling down the street. Spotting her lone figure, he slows down before casually standing before her, asking what she’s doing sitting by herself. And as she holds her breath, the moment she’s wanted emerges behind her eyes. And as she waits for it to unfold before her in life itself, she takes her notebook out of her bag, turns to a blank page and begins writing.

By Nirmitee Mehta