Saturday, 13 October 2012

The *Shooting star*

                The night dragged on as the stars shimmered from far beyond and afar. Kshitija sat gazing in the balcony of her home. Her brown eyes gazed into the horizon the same horizon which had christened her. The moon was a shiny disc of pure and divine silver light. The strum of a single grass hopper pierced the silence of the night shroud. As Kshitija closed her eyes and listened to the high pitched incessant stir of the grasshopper. It was soothing and eerily hypnotising. She sat alone and let her consciousness drift on the waves of imagination and  strike the shores of infinity. She cruised over the beautiful cloak of black spread all around her with her dreamy gaze.
                The night wore on and so did the chill. The ambience was ecstatic and then she saw it. A bright tail of fire striking hard in contrast to the dark sky blazing in an descending arc. She hadn't ever seen a shooting star but had always hoped to. And today she was here witnessing the myriad phenomenon. She was a true romantic at heart. As she winked at the star she wished fervently from the corners of her golden heart. She could sense a strange feeling of contentment as she saw the star fade by, still mesmerised by its grandeur. All she had wished for the happiness of her friend, in fact her only friend Yasika. Her friend had been fighting a losing battle against an incurable disease, but one could hardly say so. The night was truly turning out to be a special one. For it was the first time in many years that kshitija was alone in the balcony as as against her daily nocturnal star gazing rendezvous with Yasika. As thoughts became more muddled, Kshitija fell asleep, her head propped against the cool railing..
               A flashing beam awoke Kshitija as accompanied by a strange mourn. Kshitija gently rubbed her eyes to glance around subconsciously reaching for the absent pillow only to realise that she had fallen asleep in the balcony. She rose and now could clearly hear the pitiful mourn. The source was somewhere below her. she leaned against the railing only to see a procession of white clad mob wailing and carrying her precious friend on their shoulders. A single tear drop rolled past her eyes as Kshitija smiled seeing the calm demeanour of her friend who had been elevated by the shooting star of all pain and had now mingled with the pages of the past..