Girl at the Cliff

From dawn to dusk in the cabin with a desktop and a chair, unwanted lunch at the canteen, I am at stress everyday when I come back and sit down on the sofa in my drawing room. I switch on my television not because I want some entertainment or relaxation, because it just looks different than my computer. I don’t live my life, I live for my life. First word to relate with my life will be “why” because I always wonder why I came on this planet. I am one of them who like to go into depressions because they don’t have courage for suicide, whose white hair is not the symbol of wisdom but of repeated dose of stress, who smoke in chain with an expectation from the next cigarette to relieve complexities of head. In short I am a working man.

Six o’clock in the evening in the month of December, not breaking the pattern, I came from my work, sat on the sofa, threw my tie on the neighboring table and switched on the television. Within five minutes, I felt as if noises around will burst in my head or I will throw something and break the TV. With no control on what to do, I left my home in the shirt and pants. My mom inquired about my exit with no response from my side. I trolled for around ten minutes , looked around the sunset, darkening sky, a thought came of returning, but I ignored because I hate my own thoughts. Left of the pavement i was walking on, was unrestricted area after five because it had a mountain cliff, a life taking valley and bewildering forest. Out of my mind, I looked around , climbed the wall, carefully crossed the barbed wire and jumped. I cleaned my hands and was trying to stand when my eyes fell on her.

Dressed in red kurti, white lower with same colored dupatta spread around her without any order, her hands with a few light colored bangles holding the folded knees, she was sitting at the cliff looking at stars. It’s ironical to have darkness when we have billions of stars. Above her was the bright moon being jealous of the beauty the girl possessed. Her wet cheeks with tear droplets were sparkling more than some glass pieces woven on her dupatta. She was still but seemed shaken from deep inside of herself. She was silent with a disturbed sea of grief. Perhaps she had so much to say that life seemed to be short to express them. I looked at the stars she was looking at, but the sky with such gigantic stars looked empty. I looked at the trees, valley, grass, stones, small insects, I had never felt such an attraction for the nature. Everything looked so melancholic. A cool breeze gently passed by stroking her hair. Everything moved except her and the frozen time. It seemed as if plants whispered, insects murmured and I felt a sensation in my heart. I could feel my beats speeding up. I was frightened of the moment, frightened of her being in front of me. It felt as if I was her culprit, and soul cause of her mourning. My instincts started driving me forward, but my fear was holding my steps. She was hardly a few meters ahead of me but the distance seemed to be a mile. With every leg ahead, I could feel the wet grass, my sweating palm and my nerves. Perhaps my nerves needed the answers of those tears. May be I wanted her to cry on my shoulders. I wished to feel her breath and stroke her hair before the next breeze. Millions of thoughts went across and all of them beautifully frightening. My senses were not aware when I reached the beginning of the cliff. I could have broken the mountains but could not break the silence. I was at her three arms length with my heart pumping gallons of blood. I didn’t know if I was in fear or love, or I was in fear because I was in love. Time had never been so slow and romantically torturing. My relentless gaze did a mistake of hitting a small pebble, a rolling sound, and time and emotion both were out of control. She hurriedly looked back. Eyes met each other for a second, mine with motley of embarrassment and fear, her with surprise and hidden grief. She stood, put her dupatta properly around her, crossed me looking down. I could feel her soul touching every bit of me. Even my strongest emotion could not put all the strength together to look back. I could hear her bangles at my back but I was still imagining her in front of me at the cliff. I could still see the grief she had left behind. I could feel my love for her pain she was absorbed with. Perhaps I was not my own. I didn’t even know I was sitting at her place with my hands around my folded knees. I could never decide that I was absorbed by my pain or her pain, but I was quite sure it was pain. Now I could see a lot in those stars.



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