She Died That Night

Rina died a new days back. I buried her, somewhere deep in my heart. 

She was a dream. And like all beautiful dreams, she was great, as along as she was there. I loved her dearly. But she was so distant, almost inviolable, darting in and out of the dark clouds of my life; as though she came from another planet. A shimmering but very remote planet. A place, whose thought sent the mind into a convulsion of emotions. From my distant perch, it appeared to be a land of milk and honey. But it also conjured images of awe and fear, in the unfledged mind. She fought, cajoled, scolded and loved. But all of it seemed so wonderful. I wished it would never end. But it did, that night. 

I called her Rina, to the rest of the world she was Rashmi. Rashmi lives on; Rina died that night. As I laid her to rest in the depth of my heart and grieved, I knew that she had left behind a wealth of beautiful memories, wonderful moments, which would serve as my companion for the rest of my life.

As I sat, staring out of my bus window, at the verdant fields yonder, her charming, smiling face floated in and out of my reverie. Every word she had said, remains indelibly etched in my memory.

A liitle thought

Very few people get what they want in life, most don't. To the outside world they are a picture of joy, mirth and laughter, but the pain within, they suffer all alone.

The dark night is their invisible cocoon. It hides them, hides their tears and protects them from the prying eyes of the world, as they grieve.

And when the tears dry up, they get up and retrace their steps along that beaten track, that they have so often traveled, in their dreary lives. They walk, with the hope, that one day, just maybe, one day, someone will come along and hold their hand, in love, and walk along with them in their journey of life.