Archive for August, 2013


Young love as depicted by Pierre Auguste Cot

He saw her walking towards him. And the world turned into a wash of smoky light. People and objects became dark smudges on a trembling white canvas. All colors and content, all shades and significance converged inside her.

He looked at her, dazed and dazzled. As if she was covered in light. There was an engagingness about her, a pleasantness, a grace. She was an angel in repose. A flower in a desert. As sweet as a lullaby. As lovely as dawn.

He parted his lips to speak. But, his breath was caught in his parched throat. He was like one submerged in a molten dream.

She looked at him and her true gaze traveled into his soul. The shine in her kohl-lined eyes, the shy smile tugging at the corners of her soft mouth, her slightly inclined head… kindled hope inside him. His hooded eyes glimmered softly like ash-covered embers.

He wanted to sing. Songs of love and ecstasy. He wanted to be a poet for her. To compose Keatsian odes on her beauty and winsomeness. Instead, he spoke only in muted tones… and her simple replies infused him with warmth and laughter.

They walked, not going anywhere in particular. The busy thoroughfare was like a grassy vale. The tall buildings were snowy mountains. The overhanging cables seemed like wispy clouds floating about. The chaos was only like intimate silence. So lost was he.

He was engrossed by her presence. Every tiny movement seemed to say something. Her lowered eye lashes meant wordless acquiescence. Maybe. Or, it meant a delightful confusion. Her smiles hinted at abiding promises. Maybe.

Her words held him in a thrall. A slave to her comeliness, her intelligence, her charm. He felt her strength, her spirit… sincere and free. Her need to be herself. He also felt her vulnerability. He wanted to be her shield. Screen her from profanatory eyes, discourteous speeches, from all ugliness and turbulence. And, sadness.

He crossed book stalls and museums, food stores and cafes, with her by his side. He walked under the beating sun without feeling any discomfort. He saw everything anew and felt everything with more vividness and depth. Those moments acquired a preciousness in his eyes and he wished to hold them in an unyielding grip. He wished to never let them be swallowed up in the mirage of time. To keep her by his side, forever.

Where could he bury his happiness? So that, no one would steal it. And, it would remain as big and fresh and magical as it was, on that day.

He led her to a seat, under the spreading branches of a tree. Their bodies brushed against one another. Burning awareness coursed through his veins. Yet, he had never felt so peaceful, so at ease with another person before. She was like an extension of his body. He could tell her everything and she would understand. Together, they watched the world go by.

Gently, he reached out and she rested her head on his shoulders. It felt natural, inevitable. Their hearts whispered to each other. They built a bridge between them, with words and silences… while understanding and compassion flowed into them like a broad and placid river.

He did not kiss her. No. Commitments, novel undertakings, excitements, realities could wait for another day. Dreaming of sunny skies, beautiful sunsets, and starry climes… experiencing the endless drizzles, the gentle zephyrs, the delicate mists could wait. That day was reserved for observation alone. For seeing fully. And, for allowing oneself to be seen.

Copyright © 2013 [Violet Dolui]. All Rights Reserved.


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