The Photograph
A photographer chanced to meet her on her birthday. He was a school friend she had not seen for years. He later met her dressed in red and presented her with a beautiful photograph of her hand with the red bangle. He had said, “I was clicking only you.. this is a masterpiece. Later I would eliminate everything in the photograph and keep only the hand, so lovely………’’
She was vivacious. She bore no significant tell-tale signs of age. Age seemed to enhance her beauty and freshness.
She had weathered many storms and disappointments. She had never met the man in her dreams.
Yet her solitude was a blessing in disguise.
At least she was free to envision and imagine the love she had always dreamed of, rather than endure the hardships and cruelties of an unhappy marriage.
Society was changing, and women were no longer willing to make unnatural sacrifices or tolerate injustice and ungrateful people. She dreamt of a modern, egalitarian husband with good values and a beautiful mind. At times, she felt as though she were already married to him. At other times, she longed for his presence. Yet, within the temple of her sacred love, in the realm of dreams, he dwelt with utmost dignity. He was her lifeblood.
In his honour, she wore ornamental red bangles at all times. Her hands were slender and graceful, with long delicate fingers of remarkable softness. Her wrists and arms possessed an effortless elegance. The red bangles became an inseparable part of her life- a silent testament to the love she cherished.
It was a love that existed in the surreal realm, where her inner world was far more vivid than the humdrum reality around her. There, she was forever wedded to him- a beautiful radiant bride, glowing with love and blushing with quiet happiness.
A lovebird in solitude,
Touches her surreal lover with the deepest of pain-
Yet, all the ache dissolves,and a soothing tide of emotions,
Overwhelms them both and serenity remains.
In the hues of blue she finds love so true,
Orange and pink melt into a kiss.
He is etched upon the moon in the sky of her love-intangible,
Yet alive in colours, cherished values and fantastic dreams.
His hand is always extended to clasp hers,
Giving her the greatest assurance of love-unconditional and pure.
She closes her eyes and soaks in every drop of love raining from above,
She surrenders, drenching her soul in silent embrace.
He regularly wished her good morning and good night.
The sun-kissed heavens,
And your good morning wish,
Make me alive with the perfume of the breeze.
Teardrops and dewdrops glisten and shine,
Making me feel that you are mine.
Moonlit night,
You are there by my side,
Painting my eyes
With dreams so bright!
Comforting me, holding me tight,
Lulling me to sleep,
Kissing me good night.
Her photographer friend treated her with respect and regularly wished her good morning. They had a respectable distance and she could love him as well as her irreplaceable surreal lover who was present for her at all times.
Her batchmate was also unmarried and shared many common interests.
The more he lit up her life, her surreal love also deepened. Imagination with a fine touch of reality made her life all the more bearable. Every morning waking up and looking at the photograph uplifted her.
Whether or not he remained forever, the photograph would always be there. ……always be there….
