Quo Vadis?

In the wee hours of a wintry Sunday morning I woke up to the sound of rattling windows in my insipid little home and wore the specs to clear the haze that blurred my dreary eyes ...The mist was already in the air and nature was making exotic mosaics of its own on the tinsel glass panes...The dew drops then fell, washing away what was so beautiful just a few minutes back...like nature was never satisfied with its own creation....And then I started walking, inspite of the cold which was accentuated by the chilly zephyr ..

Few steps down the cobblestoned path and stretching my hands as if to grab an invisible bottle of elixir floating somewhere, I could breathe fresh air flavored with a tinge of aroma from the nearby spring flowers...... A sniff of which sub-consciously brought a smile along, as I walked towards the river side.

The moon was not perfect round nor a flawless crescent but still glorious in the bland mackerel sky, threatened by the sun flaunting its gleam and playfully blending into the blue with shades of scarlet…As if taking a cue the birds began their ballet in the sky, gliding tranquilly and placidly with an occasional scoop down to the river and splashing their feathers leaving a fine mist dangling in the streams of sunlight.

As I kept walking along the river bed which was spotless ivory and cushioned wet, I could see in the distance a man and his dog playing. Not sure who was happier when I saw the dog jump in air and retrieve the flying saucer ,every time the man threw it away...If then someone said dogs couldn’t smile, I would have disagreed.

Running further along I saw signs of the city waking up… children boisterously laughing hands over shoulders …a beautiful woman reading a novel in the bus…someone was playing Wagner’s music in the bistro….From the distance I could hear the first sirens of the ships moving in the harbor … pushing tiny waves kissing my feet…

I stood for a moment …looking at the retreating waves.

The retreating waves...

Five years ago on a pleasant summer day I was where I stood now, listening to her jokes. She would say silly things which I wondered were philosophical puzzles…Watching the wave’s retreat she would liken it to a love lost woman who would go back to the water after a fling with the shore…only to come back again.

She had a smile on her face... always….But when she talked about her story the mask was hard to keep. The pursuits of happiness and to be loved had taken her places…Her guy was a man of exquisite tastes, refinement and a natural charmer. His witty remarks would make any party in town lively. And she saw perfectness in her world…a utopian perfection.

When such a perfect crystal cracked it left a lot of mess …She realized the complete man was a work of art made of clay…it changed shape as days went by and so did she…They tried to hide the cracks in pursuit of making it work. Petty fights, ego clashes, reconciliation a vicious circle of which two souls badly wanted to come out…and they did come out…He left the city to start afresh…She stayed back…broken free but still dizzy…and empty.

And one day, she said she wanted to know where the retreating waves go…I laughed at the idiotic question of hers. Sometimes it’s hard to elicit from a person so mystic…because two days later when I saw in the papers, I understood that was not a joke!!

And now, standing at the same place I watched the wave’s retreat…picturing the four footprints that used to be there few years ago...I wondered if she had come for a walk that morning and brought an empty canvas and acrylic...to paint her life all over again.

Today, with trivial thoughts and flimsy dreams I walk back in oblivion with only myself to accompany...

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P.S. In an old post of mine..I had mentioned that i wished to hold the paint brush again...though 4 years of not having done is obvious...I am glad I did..

acrylic on paper.