From the Archives...

I had liked this a lot when I wrote it three years ago. Not so much now. All I can see now are the grammatical errors! :-)

Reflection

A murky state of mind, a melancholic mood, a gloomy feeling, an inexplicable grief surrounded my being as I stood staring at the night sky. Not a star to be seen, it seemed as if the heavens empathized with me.

A cool breeze swept past me, as if to uplift my spirit, did not serve the purpose, it left me cold, and more helpless than before.

There was a time not so long ago when a climate like this would enliven the romantic in me. A time when the eyes of the mind ignored the dark clouds and only noticed the thin silver lining, a time when the scorching heat brought confidence rather than pain. Not anymore.

A time when I craved for attention, for people around me, now I resented the very same people. Was it me? Or was it them?

Children playing on the street, they had so much to smile about, just like I had not so long ago. The gay abandon with which they played brought sheer happiness, evident from the glee on their face. The sweat on the brow hardly meant fatigue, if anything zest for living. The enthusiasm had not faded despite the dark clouds.

Dark clouds. Symbolic of my life. Did they in their child's play have a message for me? This was a stage when the mind had closed all its doors. In spite of knowing that the visiting thoughts would bring joy, the negative thoughts inside refused to let the light come in. The mind was accustomed to the familiar darkness and feared the unknown.

I stared down at the pavement from the balcony of my apartment on the 5th floor. I didn't feel suicidal. Just sad. The sorrow did not stem out of loneliness, I wish it had. I could have atleast defined my state of mind.

My armpits ached. I turned around to go, unable to stand on the crutches any longer.

I stared into my image in the life- size mirror. I felt crippled. It was one of his ways of telling me I was lame, that I needed support, his, and that I was not normal. He had never loved me. It occurred to me that everything he ever did for me was only to bruise me deep, so that the wound remained long after he was gone. The wound would heal, the scar would remain, forever.

I collapsed on the floor and broke down. I hated myself for harboring such thoughts about him. He came like lightening into my life, which until then was like a night sky with dark clouds, with pent up feelings, ready to explode. He helped me pour out my feelings, like the showers they came. Out went the dark clouds, in came a clear sky, tranquility like never before. I gazed at the reflection of his framed photograph. He was smiling, like always.

Like a whiff of fresh air he came, he went as fast.