HER

                                          

Skipping through the places yet untouched by rain, tap tap her footsteps approached. She was a shade of some angelic white. Her skin drenched with the drops of water moving down the curves of her elbow, even the rain drops did not want to part from something so heavenly I pondered. Her hair a deep dark black to its core sat like a crown on the head of a queen. Her body was like fresh butter. It looked so soft I thought it would melt. Like a knife that cuts through butter effortlessly it was cutting my imaginations into pieces so cleanly that I was beginning to doubt if it was a dream my naive little brain made up. Her nose with a slightest of slope ended with a reddened strawberry lips. It was like an art that I was seeing, someone made with the most purest of colors .Art that must have taken an eternity to paint .Her legs stout yet shaking with cold while her clenched fist was preserving the last bit of warmth that still lingered inside her. Looking at her stopped the clock and it felt like an epoch when I came out of the journey to the nook and corner of her cotton like body bounded by the softness of silk. If a person in his deathbed saw someone like her would be embraced by the notion of death .She was that marvelous .You do not get to experience such a sight every day in your life but if you did it was sure to slip into the nook of your brain that you would not need a second glance to remember it vividly as you saw it the first time. If i was told that I would die looking at her I would not mind for I was already in heaven in the light of a halo of someone so unreal.

Real is something just to describe like you need words to describe that it is a tree in broad daylight, but isn't it still a tree if It is cut down and you don’t get to see it the next morning ?? Yes it is but the reality changes .If you believe in a thing that is not real for so long you begin to accept it as real, call it delusion or psychosis it doesn't matter .And yes she was real as real as it can ever get. What was unreal was me, I was just an ordinary man with an average IQ an average face, an average age, an average filthy habits with an average weakness to succumb to the power of love but with an extraordinary imagination, well at least that is what I believed.

The leaves swaying like the tail of a fish finding its way through the ocean to the rhythm of the wind howling like wolf in search of its mate. Leaves here and leaves there. The clouds had left betraying the rain and leaving a scent in the air so fresh yet lacking an energy to it.

She was standing right in front of me or I should say I was standing right beside her or so I realized. “Hello”, she said. I looked behind my shoulder turning my neck ninety degrees back to see if she was talking to someone. No, the space behind me was as empty as my mind at that time. I realized that the greeting was for me. “Hi, how are you?” uttered my tongue out of nowhere. I cannot remember thinking about asking her how she was like I had known her for a long time. “I am fine, thanks for asking she muttered. “I meant you are soaked with rain and I thought you might not be feeling too much comfortable”. “Oh, It’s okay, It’s not much of a problem and I am used to this, I don’t walk around carrying an umbrella and if anyone is to blame for this it’s me” She smiled. I tried to smile back but could just muster a grin. Her smile was like a flamingo in the sunset. Pinkish shade to it and the color just dropped like wax from a burning candle upon the floor just to freeze back and solidify again. It was that instantaneous and in that half a second I drifted off to a faraway land watching the sunset from the porch of a wooden house. And flamingos dancing to the tune the setting sun sang in silence with small fishes in their beak. Her hands moved like a ballerinas while dancing to the tune tip toeing around the ball room floor. It was magic, she was magic and I watched her like a spectator in the circus crowd mesmerized by the tricks the master performs. Oh she’d put every single soul to shame. She was like a ray of light in the pitch dark, her voice was like a violin playing. I wanted to touch her and hold her hands but was afraid that she was just an image of something so perfect and the touch of my finger would vanish her into thin air and I’d be in ruins.

I had drifted away for a while and came back to my senses to the sound of pouring rain. I looked to see her honey like face with her eyes like the full moon but she was not there to be found by my imperfect gaze. How could I even hope my eyes would be treated with such honor forever? I stayed there for a while questioning if it was real, the whole conversation and the whole rendezvous? I was answer-less like always. I was a sort of person if given two choices upon something undecided couldn't make a choice but if told to do a thing I would do without any problem. I had problems making choices. I don’t know if had something to do with the wrong choices that I made throughout the course of my life or the right choice I couldn't make out of fear of change. One thing I was sure that my choices were great but I never had the opportunity to embrace my choices as my own. Somebody would always rob me of that opportunity. It was like a cheetah which killed an antler and was about to devour upon the meat but a lion comes to chase it off and take the meat for itself. Still mesmerized by the whole ordeal with the image of perfection I finally walk off that place. “Oh, do you live somewhere around here?” I asked “Yes, I’ll be living 5 minutes from here for a few month at my uncles” she said. ”So, can we meet again sometime, I could show you around the place?” I asked “Sure why not” she said. I pictured this whole conversation in my head. But it never happened this way and I was not hopeful that it would happen this way either.

I thought if she was a lightning bolt I was a burning match. If she was a Shakespearean tragedy I was a divine comedy. I don’t know if it was a low self-esteem or an inferiority complex or I was just star struck. One thing I know for sure I sure cannot cope up with people laughing and pretending like they are having a good time and going home at night to cry themselves to sleep. I knew people did that the somehow made themselves believe that if they make the world believe that they are happy somehow it will turn out to be that way. They all wanted their happy place in the paradigm called world. I for a change thought the so called happiness is really boring and hedonism is a myth. No one can ever be completely happy that not a pinch of sadness ever bothers them. I have a really pessimistic way of looking at things, maybe I always was not that way but somehow I turned to be that way. I always wondered if you are not smiling or laughing you are told you aren't happy. How is this even possible? It’s like saying you are having sex for real only if you make a porn movie out of it to show the world. Everyone’s happiness doesn't resonate in the same frequency. Some people are happy just to themselves, some are happy and they want the whole world to see it. Some laugh like crazy to some nonsense joke and some are just happy at their sadness.

Yes I was happy just seeing the beauty within her wrapped up in a cocoon so fragile that my gaze would cause it to crack. Her image was all I ever needed to be happy in my own way so I did not bother to see her again or search for her. Not that I did not want to but there was a sort of fear within me that the whole “Her” or the idea of “Her” would take a twisted turn and would no longer be mesmerized by it and heaven knows how longer I should keep on waiting for someone another like “Her” to leave an imprint upon my brain and rack up the chords that resonates the tune to her violin voice, her honey colored skin, her angelic image that made me question my own existence. The idea of her is just enough for me to live another day, for me not to embrace death for me to keep on suffering. I held on to the idea of her so tight that I am in no position to let go, for I have started to accept the idea as real. I know it is something I created and it is fake after all but I just love every bit of “Her”, Every bit of the idea of Her.