Love and Hope

And she smiled all day long. They were all so glad to see her happy. Things were finally falling back into the right slots, they concluded. She deserved somebody better, they gathered. So, they let things be, and never asked again. She was evidently well, what was left to decipher?

Amidst all those who meant the world to her, the solitude began to slither in. The murkiness of sorrow triumphed over the vibrant colors of happiness. The loneliness enveloped it all, and heavy with its weight, a tear drop rolled down her cheeks. She walked forth, as melancholy began to hum a familiar tune. Her vision blurred, diluting the picture of reality. The silence of the withdrawing companionship masked the sounds of her troubles. The distress burdened her shoulders as she retired to the world of slumber. The painting of every tomorrow was left disfigured. The colors that were meant to mesmerize, metamorphosed to the anguish of a broken dream.

She hugged her pillow tight, and wrapped herself in the warm embrace of the sheets. She stretched her hand out and reached for the switchboard. The twinkle of the golden-yellow light peeping out through the lampshade merged with the dark of the long night. The slight gush of cool wind through the half-open windows played with the curtains. Overpowered, they let in a handful of the moon’s silver.

Love was way beyond what could be categorized as right or labeled as wrong. It was about that one connection, the abstract bit that it was. It could not be defined by reason; it was a complicated epitome of assorted emotions. Keeping herself distracted wouldn’t change the gravity of truth. Those hidden sorrows, entrapped behind those half-hearted smiles would irk her, and sleep by her and transform into colossal hollowness as the burst of brilliant sunshine would invite in the following daybreak.

There were a hundred thousand things that she desired for him to be acquainted with - feelings left sacrificed, and a bunch of feeble words, all left unsaid. She gazed at the endless velvety sky. Lonesomeness could be so arresting at times. The starless night enveloped her in her arms and began to sing a soft lullaby to ease the profound wound, one that time didn’t look too intent on healing.

There were many dimensions to ‘love’. Love was not just about the blissful times – singing, dancing, holding hands; it was about staying back even when you could perceive the bustle of the approaching storm inch closer. Love was about that empathy you have for someone, caring beyond what you do for yourself. Love was when it came from the deep confines of the heart. Love was when it was nothing but unconditional. Love was about never letting go. Love was about being there, and living up to those undefined promises that you make every time you say ‘I love you.’

And so she whispered an ‘I love you’ into the nothingness of the night. She prayed that somewhere out there, wherever he was, he would perhaps say it too. And that maybe one day their timings would synchronize and something miraculous would ensue. Maybe they’d get a wish, some shooting star, anything, and maybe her prayer would coincide, and maybe they’d get the chance to write it, all over again.