Only last night, the gateways to the world of their dreams had not seemed that unreachable. They'd spent scores of nights, right under the starlit sky , dreaming of things that they's later remember as remnants of a forgotten life. Dhrubo'd be sent away, having been discovered, into a realm far beyond her reach. And Ashima'd wait. For days. For Months. Perhaps, for years, harboring the thought that he'd come looking for her. Just once. She'd get married eventually, letting the incandescent flame of love burn somewhere in her existence.
.
She'd be happy, in her new life, learning to accept the aphorisms of her common sense. She'd learn to accept the processes of the nature, still valorizing the love she had once been a part of. She'd believe in the possibility of an alternate universe, a parallel existence, when they 'd been careful not to leave behind the red and yellow hand woven blanket on the terrace that night. The same blanket, which had seen the transition of their love, which had seen the transition from the quivering hands to the deep sighs of peace as they had reclined together. She'd continue to live a dual existence, fulfilling all the responsibilities of her matrimony and harboring the nascent thoughts of her love from a previous life.
.
Years later, when she'd have emerged from a shy, vulnerable young girl to a stronger version, the austerity in her starched cotton draped sari, doing no justice to the demons she had overcome, she'd see him suddenly, in a market place, a fleeting glance. Her heart'd skip a beat, praying with fervor for a single glance in her direction and as if the Gods unknown would conspire and
hear her prayers, he would look up. And at that one moment, the realization would dawn upon her, that the entity she had lionized all these years, was indeed never to be.That despite being hailed as the victim, all along, it actually was the choice, that he had made.
.
Would the realization let her live? Would she go on with her life as ever before? Love, that has no boundaries, has no rules nor gender would become a long lost memory, and stripped of all her illusions she'd perhaps find herself.
- S.
