As she stepped out into the muddied soil, the sound of the night grew more darker. She looked around to confirm her loneliness and looked up to understand that even the moon was just a water mark on the clouded paper.
She entered into the farm full of paddies and sat near the dully lit motor room adjacent to her mother's strip of land with ready to harvest paddies. She was not there to check if the motor room was locked. She was just there though there was no specific task in her mind that made her visit needed. She was just there to let her next few moments become richer by the forced loneliness.
She sat down on the grainy sand, which looked neither like the washed sand near the shores nor like the dusty soulless sand blowing off the tar road. She sat with her legs half-stretched and with her two hands locked on top of the knees to ensure that the half-stretch was just enough to have a smart negotiation with gravity.
Her hair flew up once in a while with the occasional wind that disturbed the full grown paddies and her smooth hair with the same force and cadence.
She was not a distraught daughter but a loved wife married to the present moment. She had taken a long vacation from her office work at Kolkata. It has been a month now and she was not sure if she wanted to return. Over the last 1 month, which seemed now to her as more shorter than her father's love, she helped herself by being involved in setting up her mother's land up for harvest. The lovely and at the same time worst part was that she now had to harvest the grains out of these crops lest the weight of the grains makes the crops stoop and bend to the pull of the land. She really did not want to do that. For her these crops were way better than the men she had seen in her life. The paddy crops were more patient to hear her words and told her before hand that tomorrow is a new day and they will not look and feel like what they are today.
The crops never longed for her soft hands to touch them, the crops never wanted to smell her flesh and the crops remained naked in front of her without hoping that she would reciprocate. When the wind again touched her hair, one faint memory came back; the same memory that she always wanted to relentlessly smother : "Dying fires are never dead till they die".
That memory was faint only till it surfaced. Once it surfaced there was no way she could put that memory to rest without reliving the moments with the man, who lived life in a precarious manner. Like nature that was stable when it was stable, violent when it was violent and fickle when it was fickle, he stayed and lived naturally. He would give her the beauty of life at many moments and at some moments will mercilessly extinguish her mirth as if it was a switch to be flicked on and off.
He wanted to live out of the cycle of life, but in reality his life out of the cycle overlapped in a confusing manner with the life in the cycle : A mathematical equation, simple enough to equate to a singular number but when solved gave numerous numbers as a solution often in an uncontrollable manner.
She remembered a specific moment when he was hurt by his own failings and confided to her how tough it was for him to manage himself. He was observing as he was speaking to her: She knew that he was in a singular state of observing whenever the flow of his language was fluid and his voice was earnest to the point of negating the existence of any other voice from his mind.
She liked him because he was never keen on showing any pretense in any form. He would admit to his extreme weaknesses in a matter of fact tone, requiring neither her...
To be continued...
She entered into the farm full of paddies and sat near the dully lit motor room adjacent to her mother's strip of land with ready to harvest paddies. She was not there to check if the motor room was locked. She was just there though there was no specific task in her mind that made her visit needed. She was just there to let her next few moments become richer by the forced loneliness.
She sat down on the grainy sand, which looked neither like the washed sand near the shores nor like the dusty soulless sand blowing off the tar road. She sat with her legs half-stretched and with her two hands locked on top of the knees to ensure that the half-stretch was just enough to have a smart negotiation with gravity.
Her hair flew up once in a while with the occasional wind that disturbed the full grown paddies and her smooth hair with the same force and cadence.
She was not a distraught daughter but a loved wife married to the present moment. She had taken a long vacation from her office work at Kolkata. It has been a month now and she was not sure if she wanted to return. Over the last 1 month, which seemed now to her as more shorter than her father's love, she helped herself by being involved in setting up her mother's land up for harvest. The lovely and at the same time worst part was that she now had to harvest the grains out of these crops lest the weight of the grains makes the crops stoop and bend to the pull of the land. She really did not want to do that. For her these crops were way better than the men she had seen in her life. The paddy crops were more patient to hear her words and told her before hand that tomorrow is a new day and they will not look and feel like what they are today.
The crops never longed for her soft hands to touch them, the crops never wanted to smell her flesh and the crops remained naked in front of her without hoping that she would reciprocate. When the wind again touched her hair, one faint memory came back; the same memory that she always wanted to relentlessly smother : "Dying fires are never dead till they die".
That memory was faint only till it surfaced. Once it surfaced there was no way she could put that memory to rest without reliving the moments with the man, who lived life in a precarious manner. Like nature that was stable when it was stable, violent when it was violent and fickle when it was fickle, he stayed and lived naturally. He would give her the beauty of life at many moments and at some moments will mercilessly extinguish her mirth as if it was a switch to be flicked on and off.
He wanted to live out of the cycle of life, but in reality his life out of the cycle overlapped in a confusing manner with the life in the cycle : A mathematical equation, simple enough to equate to a singular number but when solved gave numerous numbers as a solution often in an uncontrollable manner.
She remembered a specific moment when he was hurt by his own failings and confided to her how tough it was for him to manage himself. He was observing as he was speaking to her: She knew that he was in a singular state of observing whenever the flow of his language was fluid and his voice was earnest to the point of negating the existence of any other voice from his mind.
She liked him because he was never keen on showing any pretense in any form. He would admit to his extreme weaknesses in a matter of fact tone, requiring neither her...
To be continued...
