Into The Wild, Into The Woods

The shore

The shore is still clear in mind, vibrant and yet calm, forcing to get lost and yet demanding of every single grasp of my attention. It was a fine day, a very fine day indeed. The sun shone with an unusual glee, making those little diamond droplets sparkle now and then, here and there. The dampness in the air, the warmth of the sunlight, the infinity of the ocean.. it was all there, asking to be soaked in, the exaltation, demanding to be felt. And yet it was not the serenity that held me captive, at least not of the shores.

She, too, was sitting there, more ignorant than confident, more pristine than divine, lost in her own reverie, as she used to be most of the times. And yet a little different, just a little. Gosh! I knew I had seen something on her face, something that meant more than what met the eye, so much more.

Still remember her distinctly enough, even though it has been nearly ten years. What compels me today to write of her is not a sudden fond remembrance or a stabbing pang of nostalgia. It is fear. It is a horrific recognition of the fact that I might be losing on to the only thing of hers that still remains: memories. Yes, I had been foolish enough to think that I would always be able to cling on to her divine presence in my mind, that I would never find trouble closing my eyes and finding her still there, that I would always be able to appreciate such regularity of feature and beauty of complexion and such sympathetic and spiritual eyes as she possesses, that time would never let her image fade, that time would not be so cruel. Yes, I was fool enough to think that.

"How can artists be so ruthlessly magical to force a mind into looking upon a picture of their choice" I tried to invade her thoughts.

"They don’t do that. They create what they feel and the seer sees what he sees." She finally decided to break the long standing silent continuum and made an effort to look interested. And I knew she was, I could see that, and yet something more was there that I couldn’t see despite repeated attempts. I was about to rebuke when all of a sudden she sat up and seconds later she was moving towards me and I kept looking at her halo like a child fantasized at the sight of a spectacle. Yes, she was indeed a spectacle to me. She finally came close to me and sat beside me with an elegance that was always there with her in the most trivial of movements. She looked a little unprotected that day. She looked fey. Before the sun went down that evening, she made me make a promise to her. She made me promise that no matter what happened in the future, to her or to me, I would always remember her. Always. And I thought to myself, the promise would be ridiculous. It would be like asking the sun to always remember the spectacle of the morning, which is all it lives for. But still, she was adamant.

So I promised. That I would always remember her.

Then we got up. She took me by the hand and we started walking. Away from the shore. Away from safety, it seemed. And towards the woods. She led me on sandy path slowly turning into gravel and pebbles, never looking back to see me but never letting go of my hand either. I looked back, at the footprints we were leaving behind, the sunlit horizon already starting to sink into nothingness. She led me. Into the woods, of frustration, uncertainty, and an unprecedented vulnerability.....

Looking back after all these years, the thought of her saying all those words to me fills me with an almost unbearable sorrow.

Because she never loved me.

The Purgatory

I remember the days, the months after that little incident on the beach. After I had opened up to her, in my own mind, the way I had never done to anyone before. I remember asking my father, if it was possible to not focus upon something. He told me to take up something else and rather focus on that. And I knew that was not the truth, and deep within even he knew that.

Nevertheless, I put myself exhaustively into my work, into the gym, working out like crazy even at home. It was a complete frenzy. Some nights I would find myself waking up and completing my office work for absolutely no reason. On other nights, I would be sleeping like a dead man; I reached home from office and I dropped to bed as if all of Newton's gravity was showing all its might upon me and me only. And then there were nights when I simply lied awake in my bed staring at the dingy room’s ceiling holding on to a fan that was rotating frantically, at least able to release the turmoil it held within itself.

Next morning I would steel myself not to think of her. Not to obsess. Not to play those time machine games again, where I would teleport myself, body and soul, to that evening at the beach and be with her again. Those games had once been therapeutic for me but now it was getting a bit too much. A little neurotic, I did not know. I could not imagine her back into existence, I knew. But I would feel good for a few minutes. Before it hurt. And then I would do it again.

The woods, the wild

All I could see was silhouettes of her. All around me. Begging for a touch, only to vanish the moment I approached them and reappear again in a different direction. She had led me into the wild woods and then disappeared. And I knew that there was no way out now. You can get out of a place that is somewhere, no matter how inaccessible. But you can not get out of a place that is absolutely nowhere. I knew I needed to get out but the darkness was such as if someone had closed my eyes. I needed to break free but the crawling roots were already circling around my feet. I was seeing ghosts everywhere, who were banking on my own belief in them to keep themselves alive.

Over these years the roots have lost their grip. The darkness has become penetrable and the ghosts have become less intimidating. And that folks is bad news. I long for any little stimuli that remind me of her, of that evening and it converts any camouflaged neutrality into a wounded existence. And sends me back into the woods. All the wildernesses on the outside complements to what’s within me and I find myself at the helm of nothingness, in the middle of nowhere.....

 

 

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