Sometimes, the clouds
above, sailing on the sky, twirl themselves and form a figure, a well-known one
to me. Bowled over, I raise my hand and draw the figure in the air. But before
a familiar face could turn up, the clouds play with me, they roar loudly, as if
in mockery, and drench my eyes. Your absence is painful.
Yet another day of rainy
season, I was sitting on my terrace, surrounded by street children. I was
playing your favorite numbers on my guitar. Children were dancing and enjoying.
Clouds came back from the far south, in all shapes. Lost in my music, I had
closed my eyes. After all, it was the last thing I was left with.
Soon it began to drizzle.
I was standing like an effigy amid drops. Unmoved! Rain is one of the most
pleasant gifts bestowed upon us by God. I was a living organism, yet was not
enjoying at all. The children screamed in delight, 'rainbow, rainbow.' I looked
in the direction they were pointing. It was there in the horizon, though a bit
gloomy. All the seven colors were there. The sun, for a moment, hid behind
crawling clouds. In a moment, it came out and shone again. The red setting sun
from the west scattered its rays. Dusk was not away. The rainbow shone brighter
this time. I wiped my wet face with my wet hands and looked again, hoping for
something. And it was then, that the figure showed up. It was a rainbow for others;
I could see your face shining bright.
Tears rolled down my
cheeks but nobody could see them. I was doing all, smiling at your sight,
crying on your fickle presence. My joy knew no bounds.
You whispered, 'Hey, I
am here.'
I gave a questioning
look, 'Where?'
The clouds roared again.
More thunders overjoyed the children. They sang and danced merrily.
I asked, 'Where are you?
Where have you been so long?'
You replied, 'Don't look
out for me. Where do you think I am?”
I was blank. A pause. A
deafening silence. Your glistening face still had that charming effect. Your
small straight-edged nose was always the centre of attraction. You had the best
nose in the world. I recalled when I had last admired your beauty, especially
your nose.
“I am still with you. In
your beats. In your eyes. In your tears. In your smile.'
'Why do I feel so lonely
then?' Inquisitive, I wanted to dig out everything. I knew you could never be
back to me; the bereavement is incurable and excruciating at times.
'It's all about what you
feel. See the setting sun?’
I looked at the sun. It
was red as if burning. The drizzling had stopped. Raindrops were falling off
the leaves. Birds were chattering and flying back to their nests. Clouds had
dispersed.
You broke the ice, ‘The
sun never sets. The earth rotates and we assume the sun has set. Yet we know
that somewhere there is a sun rising and there is another one shining. Feel me
with you. Keep me alive within. I am like that sun.’
My attention was stuck
at your beautiful nose. The entire life spent with you ran before my eyes like
a slideshow. The perturbing scenes were relived. 4 years had passed by since
you left me. In the morning, I used to kiss your nose gently. You buried your
head in my chest. And the most painful of all, you, my beloved, were lying
dead on the floor, clad in white, surrounded by a flock of people, mourning
your early death. Your eyes were closed. You lay quiet. Your face was not
covered and your beautiful nose was still visible.
You continued, ‘These
rain drops are your feelings. When the sun and these rain drops meet, you can
see me. For others, it would be a rainbow. For you, it would be me.'
My interaction was disrupted as somebody
was shaking my hand, “Hello.” I kind of woke up. I looked down. It was a young fragile
girl, around 4, in a beautiful pink frock. I looked at her innocent face. I had
never seen her before. Her nose resembled yours. She shook my hand again,
‘Play. Please. Why did you stop?’
I looked back at the horizon to see
you but the sun had set and the rain had stopped. Neither the rainbow was there
nor were you.
I shook my head and replied,
‘nothing.’ I smiled, patted on her nose gently and picked up my guitar to play.
