“She
May be the face I can’t forget
The trace of pleasure or regret
May be my treasure or the price I have to pay
She
May be the song that summer sings
May be the chill that autumn brings
May be a hundred different things
Within the measure of a day”
Elvis Costello sings in the background as the names of the starred cast rolls over the screen. My eyes stick to the movie as mind drifts away. I recall the afternoon and there i find her; something as described in the song, something Costello must have felt while singing, something i cant explain exactly with the limited words i have. But i tell you, it was a wonderful.
The ambience was marked by typical summer afternoon, dusty and humid. Cool breeze blew once in a while trying hopelessly to refresh the state. Revolution was in the air. Traffic was almost nil with few bikes on the run. Children reigned the streets with their local pseudo-cricket matches. And there she was standing, amidst all of the hassles; waiting patiently, waiting for me.
I saw her standing and couldnt keep staring at her. The nuances of desperation embedded under the beatific smiles were simply hypnotizing. Not to miss her hair dancing with the zephyr and her prying looks silhouetted by the cherubic innocence. She had this magical aura round her so powerful that buddha would also have had a hard time if he had been there. I am a mere human. I zombified, hurried my pace. She smiled at me. I smiled back at her and apologized for being late. She continued smiling but then I felt like a thousand words have been said between us even though none had come out of her mouth. I couldnt comprehend whether it was my mind manifesting a logical explanation of each of her gestures or whether it was some sort of mystical psychic telepathy. Something was there, almost tangible which i felt every bit.
The advent of the evening was far away. The sun, still proud, shone brightly upon us as we walked down the street. There was less to see and less to hear but her company was more appeasing than any other alternative i could find. We walked gently with the distance made between us. The capacitive effects where more overwhelming than usual. We shared thoughts and exchanged talks. The conversation was pretty normal: without any substantial content in it. Hints, allegations and compliments were all there were to say. My mind raced on a track of mixed emotions and my speech registers went corrupt. I stammered once in a while not knowing what to speak next.
Her inner beauty was even more accentuated by get-up she was in. The blue cotton top and the denim jeans was indeed letting out the fire from within the austere beauty. Blue: the life giving waters and red: the color of competence. The combination of fire and water have always been acclaimed over the centuries by many artists. Then, i was experiencing what they meant. Her laughters broke the dreadful silence once in a while and her giggles echoed in my ear. Her voice swept me away and glowed like a burning coal. Things seemed to stop for a moment round myself as my eyes feasted on the solemn beauty in front of me. It was like the Venus herself had come to greet me. The sight was really intoxicating. There’s a proverb in Latin which goes like: “Major e longinquo reverentia” which means viewed from a distance, everything is beautiful. Which rang in my head, but she was equally stunning from close proximity and there my mind was fighting my brains over that. Undisputably my mind stood victorious.
As the skies turned darker with the end of the afternoon, we both knew the time had come for her to be gone. Her departure was painful. The loneliness grasped me without any preadmonition. She waved me good bye and i waved her back. My hand felt heavy like if it was make up from lead rather than flesh and bones. Suddenly everything seemed so dull and weary.
I plunge back into reality. It seems like i’ve been back from a roller coaster ride. I lift my gaze upon the screen. A scene comes into play where Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant are shown laying over a bench in the park. The song gets played in the background. Ronan Keating sings “…when you say nothing at all..”. The rich sound of the guitar plucks takes me once again to the higher dimension. Her silence rings in my ear. Indeed, she says it best when she says nothing at all.
