“There’s a phone call for you,” the matron informed.
“Who is it?” I asked casually.
“Not sure. I didn’t ask for the name. Would you like to take the call?” She asked sceptically.
“Yup, I’ll be there.” As I picked the receiver and voiced a “Hello,” a velvety “Hi!” echoed from the other end.
While my hippocampus toiled to retrieve some clue, pop came a request. “Can I get your mail Id please?”
The words hopped out, sprinted into my ears, glided through the drums, did some Tango, and mystified my head.
“My email Id? Ya, sure.” I spelt it out with no hesitation.
And then it all began with a Hello. That one Hello.
Alright, let me give you a quick intro here. I am Leo, and the one who called was Aumia. And this is the story, where a fairy tale, is about to turn into reality.
It all began at the fall when Heaven conspired with my fate. At that daybreak, I couldn’t anticipate God’s plan. My gut feeling was in hibernation. I failed to perceive the nearing doomsday. Shortly after that phone call, an untailored mail popped up in my Inbox. It was from Aumia. I had no intention of getting into any association. Not even friendship. Yet, the formal exchange of pithy forewords spun into practice, formed into a habit, and evolved to a necessity.
We were radically different from the other. In fact, we had no similar traits, except, that we were humans. I was a happy go lucky fella, and Aumia, a meek, unsociable ice princess. She hardly spoke, yet it seemed as if her oesophagus was constantly busy administering a galaxy of words, that were toiling to get in sequence, as to which will go out first. Each time we met, it seemed as if our moments hastened to end; like those meandering, gurgling waves, onward the pebbled shore. Ours was a tale fostered with her trust and my desire to be. I used to be garrulous, yet, she patiently harked all my gibberish jabbering, in silence. Slowly we felt the need for those not so essential lengthy talks; for those concise and extended meets. We anchored our tent of trust and camped amidst the expressions of love; with the belief, that the warmth of our passion will keep us alive.
Aumia was beorht and strong. She was as serene as a star on a misty night. A dame so paradisiacal, that with time, I fell in love with her, Todavía lo soy. She was like the gushing river that engraves its tunes in our memories, even after it gets frozen by the winter. She was a lady, straight out of a Scottish highland tale. Perfectly composed nature with a soul, seeking freedom. Henceforth, my every verse, stood praising her worth. A lady so placid, yet, so enticing; so fervent was her imagery that not falling for her was impossibilis. An anecdote to tell.
She came as a stranger and moulded into my most fancied. Aumia’s unbiased support encouraged me to step frontward. She was a mirage getting real over time. Excitement towered each time we met. We spoke and we wrote. Expressions came gushing out like dormant lavas, desperate to erupt. I do remember the days when she struggled to keep us going. I remember those words of doubt when I decided to retreat out of uncertainty. Time continued to run at its desired motion. Ay me, I fell. Like a poor bird, deceived by the painted grapes. The alluring moisture of her eyes, the fire on her cheeks, forced a thunder on my heart. I believed that Aumia won’t leave, once my layers unfurl with time. She helped me shed the grey and dared me to be the true self. I felt fortuitous. We travelled like free souls, chatted like best friends, quarrelled like foes and we unified as if parted for million years.
Simplicity was her asset. Aumia was as calm as a serene day, as golden as a magic wand, as soft as a snowflake, as confused as a teenager, as good as a friend, as loving as a better half, as sweet as a naive kid, as understanding as a parent, and as empathetic as a preacher. She was like the flowing clouds, that greyed when full and showered as a blessing. She was like my mountains; altering mood with reasons. Rugged yet gorgeous. A disorganized yet, charming beauty. Gradually, with more sunrises and dusks, a strange bond started to build up. She kindled us with compassion. Through the twists and turns of time, our companionship weaved into a fairy tale.
Facts are usually bitter than fiction, but not when a fairy tale comes to life and toils to become a reality. Through all the years I’ve known her, she stood firm by me. She was there spurring me with her compassionate words at my worst fall. She kept her faith firm when the world doubted. She has been an Astragalus membranaceus for a cold me. She cosseted me like chromium; I augment like a hydro orb. She stayed, while I moved, drifted by the ill winds. I deviated from the trail.
Aumia yet didn’t give up on me. She was striving patiently, to put up with a crackpot like me. She remained. Reassuring and encouraging when I lost hope. Thoughtful and understanding she was to me through my tough days. She strived through my sloppiness. She was the Lamb of God, and me, the lion of Judah. She was the best part of my life’s story, and me, the buffoon. Once again, we cheated time, we cheated situations, we cheated adverse conditions, for us to be. Free with dawning dreams, and dusking the unimpressive past, we embraced the present. The years’ complains, errs, pain and doubts, diluted with the unification.
She lingered to guide and heal me. She remained to make me realize my follies. She believed in me when I was giving up. She believed I will shine. Her words echo till date…”You made it before, and you can make it once again.” Her words enlightened me, and her faith kept me safe. She let her dreams fly around me when I missed dreaming, until that meet. That parting meet, when the secretive moments of ecstasy, were careful enough, not to let any doubt of uncertainty, mar the bliss. In years, I failed to tell apart, if I was intimidated more by the garment of her grace, or by the sparkling heart she stored.
Aumia took a feline step and threw her yoking arms around my neck. Those soft watery petals treaded like thirsty vagabonds. The goosebumps waited eagerly. A gush of light breeze awakened my senses, as she whispered, “Now, don’t you be sad.” A tornado of chaos stilled my soul. The warm hug created a fuss. The soft voice warned. The heart hopped faster, but the brain advised to master. Over the years, such moments rippled and subdued numerous times, and yet I failed to stabilize. The adrenaline was at its highest power rush. I got my last hug. The last hug, until I see her again, on an unknown, uncertain, yet as I believe, in some destined moment.
Forgiven I was numerous times, for my follies, yet self-realization couldn’t find its way in. Mistakes turned into repeated actions. My whims initiated a quake that made the base of us slide an inch. Reckless and busy I was, chasing some mirage of my own whim. So engrossed I was, that I didn’t see life make its quarter horse move. Love invaded our lives when we expected the least, and took us to a land so lush and serene, that we failed to absorb the abundance. We lost our way through the mystified alleys. I was the challenging element in our relationship, but she held the reins well, until it got tattered, because of my idiocy. I drifted from the trail and fell into a deep dungeon. I then stepped into quicksand and watched the light fade. I was left in darkness. My follies left me drowning.
Aumia, then, was fighting her own battle, alone. I failed to hear, and I failed to be there. Years they were, through which she found her dream. She found warmth and comfort in her rusty life. She found a tale for herself. A tale she was seeking through ages. She chose a life without me, and I hold myself at fault. I wasn’t there when she needed strength. I wasn’t there when she needed me, the most. Guess she got scared and decided not to let the plague repeat. She cleaned her memories and cleansed her soul. She sanitized her entity of the past microbes that were scraping, the cognitive portions of her brain.
It was once upon a time then, when Aumia decided to break free and walk off, abandoning my presence. She decided to step out and listen to her heart. She decided to challenge life and turned away, as not to turn in again. There were some overt conflicts in the past, but nothing grave. Until the day she got tired and gave up. Aumia got bitter, and started her journey, excluding me. While my night and day blended, I lost track, just to wake up to find her gone. As the Latin proverb says, ‘Fortune is like glass; she breaks when she is brightest.’ So did I. As things ebb and flow, and as every shape is made to pass away, so was my fortune, in haste to embrace adversity.
I became the architect of my own catastrophe. Affluence went rushing out as a stream through my grip. Laughing and mocking, while I was busy, gathering my own pieces. As Blake wrote, ‘the dimpling stream runs laughing by,’ Aumia was that stream of my fortune, who glided away steadily, holding a dent on her face. I failed to see the wrath coming. It was too late. Hate and misunderstandings achieved the majors, while I solely struggled to cloak us, with tailor-made verses of Love.
Her vision and thoughts were clouded by my misdeeds, and eventually, my own attitude backfired. Then, the surly elements got in the way. They stacked up, fabricated a wall of despair and mistrust, which got taller and stronger with each passing day. We argued over mails and seldom calls. My repeated pleas fell into deaf years. To add to the confusion, I chased some deceiving spirits. I’m just a human, and to err, was so me. We experienced love in several shades but lost our way when it turned achromatic. It’s kind of dingy now. The blues and the greys burgeoned, shadowing the pinks and purples.
I never thought Aumia would take herself away, just to irk my cranium thereafter. There was all that clatter once and unexpectedly silence barged in. I felt as if I was falling, through some dark rabbit hole. I ill-treated; misinterpreted her aura with the worldly states. I shifted locations; moved to the appealing meadows. Yet, we were, for her belief. We were, for, she was. There were days, when I didn’t bother Aumia, with my frailties. Yet, we were a perfect fusion, a complete alliance. But not so perfect were my moves. Q-B4 it was, always. An irrational move to nothing, and far from everything.
Aumia once said, “I won’t ever stop loving you, and this is a promise.” Yet, with time, her perception got tinted, with alternate hues, and she finally questioned, “Is love an obligation?” I felt a pinch, mixed with guilt. Sometimes, I feel that maybe, it was too much for us to handle such a blissful connection. Maybe, we just loved excessively and the brim of our souls over poured. She was disappointed enough, to finally let go of us. It wasn’t easy for her, neither was it for me. It took years to come to terms with space. Finally, She got hers. I succumbed to mine.
With time, the tale on a notebook page, the tale of a dame and a beast froze, while the pages and words remained. While those beautiful words written in colours smudged, we breathed. Full of relief and frustration, for those remaining footprints. Life’s presents have been surprising. At times a rainbow to rejoice, and at times, cold days to shiver. Doors got shut, and alleys got darkened. The light of hope reached the summit and dimmed at a fast pace. Yet, the silly soul stood firm, wounded. Gripping the last spear, with the last ounce of strength, clutching the cloak of Cupid. Keeping hope alive, for that one day, when we will meet by the twilight, to embrace our vulnerable selves.
Once this winter of discontentment gets over, and the summer of glee tiptoes in, the lamb will once again, step forth with might, to make the lion surrender. Assuring of a forever, where dreams come true, where souls fortify their own tale. In a world, where we will love each, unreservedly. It’s a land far off, but it exists. There we will meet… Aumia and me. Until then, I wonder.
I wonder how our meet will be.
I wonder of the Heaven. Will it pour in happiness
Or will it allow the sun to shine bright, contended.
I wonder of my heart. Will it follow the rhythm or will it halt for a while.
I wonder of my eyes. Will they be inquisitive or will the follies dim the flame.
I wonder of the words. Will they beg to gush out or will they succumb in shame.
I wonder of the horizon. Will it rejoice the union or will it regret the colligation.
I wonder of the time. Will the clock miss a tick or will the church bell clout loud.
I wonder of the silence.
Will we hear the unspoken tales of missing and longing or will we remain numb.
I wonder of the expressions. Will they explode
Or will the self, mute it down.
And then I wonder…. of our meet.
Soon yet so delayed.
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