At Dawn...

Her eyes opened to the patter of raindrops outside the window. The room was unnaturally dark for that hour…one of those Calcutta days when the dawn imitates the dusk. She couldn’t bring herself to leave the bed. The clean white blanket won her heart all over again and she hid her face deep into it. It was indeed the hour of contemplation; the early morning breeze, dampened by the rain outside, invited reflection. The calm of the violet dawn and the twitter of unprepared birds moved her soul.

Staring at the ceiling, her mind traveled back to the events of the last week. She could now think of it as a whirlwind that had culminated in the storm last night. And now this placid morn. How far they had traveled from each other, in a matter of days. Years had crumbled into nothing. Simply nothing. One of those swaying, powerful stretches of time that take away memories and emotions, feelings and sentiments, foresight and forgiveness. It was a battlefield all the way. They had turned themselves into brainless warriors feeding on false pride and reasons. Nothing could hold them back then. They had geared up to carry it far…just a little behind the Greeks and Trojans. She sighed deeply, closed her eyes and murmured to her battered soul-“it would be fine; she was right”…and then the soul betrayed her. Her pillow was briskly dampened by those heavy drops that gushed down from her eyes. She felt bitter. Not with the world, not with him, not with them. It was simply a heavy, self-critical heart. And she despised her tears. To come out that early! At dawn…

She got up and walked to the balcony. It stood deserted and dark. She had abandoned it these days. There was no need to hide in its corner and scribble. Letters weren’t needed anymore, songs never sung. It had been weeks since she had peeped into the nest it its roof, or been in company of the lazy cat. Its all gone. She told herself. The best and the sweetest part of my life. I have cut it off. If only she could say these without the watery response from her eyes, without that sinking feeling in her heart. She knew she would be fine then. That was indeed the sign. Pitying her melodramatic soul, she tried to scrub the sentiments out of her face. The mirror stood over the washbasin. And for once, she couldn’t smile.

“I will be back.” - She said to it and sat down to write.