Moonlight Magic : Eternal Bliss
Natasha had seen many springs come and go.
In this spring, she had Nilanjan by her side- real yet unreal, true yet untrue, a man who promised to create eternal bliss, to make the moonlight magical each day.
“Nilanjan, kiss me, kiss me fervently. “
He smiled and whispered gently in her ear, as gentle as the spring breeze,“ I will go on kissing you forever.’’
She wanted to live happily and soak in the joy of every moment.
She herself had been born in spring. She had opened her little fresh eyes to a world that welcomed her warmly, teaching her love before she learned its cost.
She blossomed into a beautiful woman with ocean-blue eyes and the curiosity, blissful innocence and dreaminess of a child.
One spring evening, a man of real flesh and blood entered her life. It was a chance encounter under a full moon. The breeze carried with it a birthday gift she would never forget-his kiss. But the breeze, she would later learn, carried undercurrents of tempest as well.
In spite of numerous differences, they clung to each other. Once he told her, “I am a creeper, and I am dependent on you.’’
What began as love and pure attachment slowly hardened into domination. He spoke often of marriage, repeating the promise, yet never allowing it to take form. The waiting wore her down. Uncertainty crept into her thoughts, steadily eroding her peace.
He came from a village background far removed from her own. He dreamt of living with her in a city flat. She hesitated at first, but eventually gave in. With the help of her parents, she bought the flat. What was meant to be a shared beginning soon became the center of disputes and legal entanglements.
Natasha found herself helplessly struggling within a relationship that had once promised shelter but now demanded endurance beyond tolerable limits.
Ultimately, leaving was no longer a choice but a necessity. When the legal knots finally loosened, she entered the flat alone.
The relationship had ended after eight years, but the seasons had not.
The girl within her remained alive, eager as ever to experience more springs. Her river of life and love had always widened, even after narrowing. It continued to channel fresh vitality into her thoughts, lifting her from heartbreak, betrayal, insecurity and the erosion of faith.
Her shelter became a dreamscape untouched by social cruelties and bitterness.
People with shortcomings are often gifted with insights and compensatory sensitivities. Perhaps life would not grant her a real man fully committed to her presence, but that did not mean her senses would remain unfulfilled.
The presence of a man within her grew deeper, slowly blurring the boundary between the real and the unreal. Solitude opened in her a bouquet of feelings, centering on a surreal romantic soulmate whom she named Nilanjan- the man with dreamy blue eyes, the eyes she had always wished her man would have.
The feelings that surged through her heart became the lifeblood of her survival.
She often dreamt that he would call her Nilanjana.
“Nilanjana,’’a voice seemed to ask her gently, “what are you doing?’’
“I am thinking of you,’’ she replied.
“Then think of me and create. Give me form-in your art.’’
“But where are you?’’
“You know,’’ the voice answered softly, “I am here with you-deep within your heart.’’
“You are married, Natasha,’’ the voice insisted.
“You are married to me. You will always be married.’’
One night, desperation overtook her. She picked up her brushes and began to paint- without plan, without restraint. As the colours spread across the canvas, a presence slowly took shape. In one painting, then in another, Nilanjan began to emerge. Sometimes only his eyes appeared, sometimes the curve of a face, sometimes just a suggestion- unfinished, yet unmistakable.
She poured herself into art, becoming a surrealist painter. Each brushstroke was both an exploration and a confession. Nilanjan emerged across canvases- in shimmering eyes, in impossible landscapes, in creatures that seemed half-dream, half-memory. The colours that arose from the core of her heart carried a dreamlike intensity; even her pain found expression with dignity.
Often, she painted her own face in changing moods spontaneously, especially in water colour.
Each painting became a quiet revelation.
Her expressive paintings began to draw attention. Critics hailed her as a genius of surrealistic expression, a creator of worlds hovering between reality and the heart’s secret longings.
“Oh! What expressions and feelings!’’
Visitors exclaimed as they wandered through her exhibitions, marveling at the strangeness and beauty of her fantastic visions, unaware that each piece carried an intimate dialogue with the unseen Nilanjan.
“You create dreamscapes of such mystery and purity,’’ many said.
The surreal, the imagined and the real were not opposites but mirrors. Through her art, she allowed herself to experience love fully.
Sometimes, from her heart echoed,
“But Nilanjan, where are you?
Where are you Nilanjan?
Is this a story of quiet forever?’’
Natasha felt deep inside her heart,
“Only the moonlight will know our steps,
Our dance of unmatched grace,
The dance that will continue forever.’’
