Isn’t it obvious?
Sometimes it is not!
Expressing becomes more important than loving.That is what happened to them.
Silence suffocated the relationship. It rusted like anything and now it’s all over the boy. Sometimes the rust drops in public and glimpse of wounded soul shows up all red and fresh blood dripping.
She was a magnet and he was a boy with complex soul.
So how did it happen?
Well it was not a perfect love story where everything happened by the cupid struck Adam and Eve. She was already with someone else and the boy was with the match made in heaven.
Though his match had already gone to heaven.
Was her soul waiting for him there? Well this is something even I cant answer.
But he was no angel to wait to meet her in there. He lived here in this world to live each and every moment. After her death he had gone a little heartless and rude but he wanted to live.
He sketched his life with full perfection. Every year had a plan, every month had an ambition, everyday had an aspiration and every moment had a dream, a dream to make it big.
No matter how black his hands became with the pencil and charcoal that he used to sketch he kept doing it. The mob called him selfish, cunning, fame hungry and everything he possibly could be ranted about as. Because everyone saw the ashes falling down spreading dirt around the canvas but no one knew about the painting.
And one day he decided to have her in his painting of life.
Why?
Not even the boy knew the answer to this.
She was totally different from his painting .She was full of energy,always dancing. Chirping like a child on small things. “Laughing out loud” was an expression made for her.
She was not the perfect of all yet she was great in her own ways.
She hated color less things; even her pasta had red sauce in it. Life was not a painting for her; it was a dream where you can be happy in spite of all odds.
Add all the spices in a dish that’s when you learn how can variety taste in life.
Small things made her happy.
Long bridal dresses which she never bought, bunch of red roses that he brought for her, red wine, fine dine, small colorful markets where she could buy cute things which had no use at all, rainbow socks and pink anklets, green odd pullover she use to wear behind which she use to disappear.
Her first love was her year old cousin and her best buddy was an uncle who danced on the stage and made her laugh over life. One girl for whom your balance in the phone was more important than the balance in your bank account.
She taught people to dance and she learnt from within.
Dancing was like a form of celebration in short pulses. If you want to feel something dance it out.
But she taught me more than just dance. She taught him that life is not about being a perfectionist so that everyone loves you its about giving so much that people love you even for your imperfections.
She said that life is not a race where you just have to win its about those pit stops where you have to make sure you hug your loved ones.
And she stopped and filled the painting with beautiful colors, added new shades to them with every turn and corner in life and made it beautiful.
She was like dew that refreshes the life of a leaf and vanishes with the first ray of sun. She also has vanished!
But her memories are like a song to him that he secretly wishes to be played again and again in his mind She is like a beautiful landscape visible out from the window of the moving train and you don’t want to disappear, but it does.
probably thats what the beauty of life is.
He still has that painted canvas but colors are fading away and this post is an attempt to try to relive those moments and hope that someday it will be repainted with the starry glitters again.
