The Wind - Their Story
The day was going on at the monotonous pace as usual. The daily shifts from dawn to dusk with their fixed little moments of so rehearsed by now that it took no more of an conscious effort to even try to actually be there when he trudged on. The seconds rolled on into minutes and finally the hours ticked away on the huge wall clock that would mark his freedom for the day. The siren rang sharp and long and quenched his strained ears with the sound more pleasant than the sweetest melody. He could have broken a million records for speed as he packed up his satchel and ran towards the exit. Today would still be the same. But these were the minutes he waited for all day. The evening walk back home. The familiar breeze made all the weariness vanish in a jiffy. The wind caught its pace and blew through his set up hair messing them in the way he loved them to be.There was his corner rock awaiting him as usual. This was one routine he never detested. The wind was playing its own game of peekaboo with the rustling leaves of the tree that stood alone over the rock by the road. It was an oddity in this world of shimmering plexiglass and the concrete mausoleum of living automatons. A stark contrast of stability in this sea of forever rushing masses. That is why he liked it maybe. He propped his satchel by his side and sat down.
Cars queued away their endless sojourn towards destinations unknown to him. The hundreds and thousands who moved on around him with their own baggage. A satchel just like him but they carried more. The weight of all that mattered. Instalments, mortgages and the paraphernalia they had surrounded themselves with to lead on with their acts in the play aptly designed for them. They played their roles to perfection with a grudging agreement to the whims of the ones who managed them. The reluctance faded away as time went by. He sat on the rock. The rough granite was familiar and soothing. He was at ease. More than he could ever be on the sleek cushioned furniture he had access to. The tree smoothed out is furrowed brow with the melody of the swaying branches. The day would end but this was his kingdom. This little rock was where he reconnected and recharged. He got out his mini sketch book and let his pencil meander on the textured realms of his world.
It was quite some time before the page was a collage of random scribblings. A lamp post here, a building facade there but nothing that would make him close it up hop back on to his way home. He turned the page to a fresh one and sat there chewing up on the pencil he held twiddling in his fingers. A gust of wind hit him hard in the face. Momentarily bringing him back to his senses as he looked around. There she was in the distance. The wind still playful messed up with his hair more and hushed away all the traffic around. He could no longer hear the honkers honking away at their wheels, Nor could he smell the incessant smoke in the air. It was just her in the distance. The pencil sketched away as if it had a life of its own. She stood there waiting for the bus maybe... While he sketched away. The lone strand of her hair gently falling over the contour of her face.. The lips that curved inherently upwards.. The breeze every moment tickling her locks and them swaying atone to the melody that worked its way all around. The high cheeks with a a little flush of the evening as the orange sun added to it. And among them all his pencil strove to capture the one thing which had caught his attention all the while.. Her eyes... Even from his distance he could sense them speaking out.. Full of pain.. How could it be? Such a beautiful lady and yet the pain...... And just as he revised his last stroke he saw her cab arrive... She got in and he realised that it could just be the time when he would ever get to see her. But as he got up to intercede her.. he knew it was late as the cab pulled away.. He saw her recede in the distance forever.. How could it be.. It was just a sight .. Seeing her for the first and now maybe the last time..... He made his way back to his rock.. Looking away into the distance....He would never see her...
The wind making its way.. as the pages of his sketch book fluttered by... And there she lay on every of all the pages yellowed by now..... Sketched the same way.... over and over again... every day..........Somewhere far away in a cab she wiped away her tears.... The doctor had told her to give up... He would live the same day.. for his years to come..... There was nothing they could do for him.. yet she had asked her was there a chance... The doctor had grudgingly replied a remote possibility if he was provided with the same events that unfolded the day he was reliving.. He just might come back... That was all she required.... As the cab came to a shop she opened her purse for the change.. And as she got it out.. There lay the crumpled piece of paper.. She opened it up.. And there she was.. It had come flying up to her with the breeze around.. .. His sketch of her.. The breeze.. was what had brought him to her... And she would not give up.. For she knew.. The breeze would bring him back one day....
Cars queued away their endless sojourn towards destinations unknown to him. The hundreds and thousands who moved on around him with their own baggage. A satchel just like him but they carried more. The weight of all that mattered. Instalments, mortgages and the paraphernalia they had surrounded themselves with to lead on with their acts in the play aptly designed for them. They played their roles to perfection with a grudging agreement to the whims of the ones who managed them. The reluctance faded away as time went by. He sat on the rock. The rough granite was familiar and soothing. He was at ease. More than he could ever be on the sleek cushioned furniture he had access to. The tree smoothed out is furrowed brow with the melody of the swaying branches. The day would end but this was his kingdom. This little rock was where he reconnected and recharged. He got out his mini sketch book and let his pencil meander on the textured realms of his world.
It was quite some time before the page was a collage of random scribblings. A lamp post here, a building facade there but nothing that would make him close it up hop back on to his way home. He turned the page to a fresh one and sat there chewing up on the pencil he held twiddling in his fingers. A gust of wind hit him hard in the face. Momentarily bringing him back to his senses as he looked around. There she was in the distance. The wind still playful messed up with his hair more and hushed away all the traffic around. He could no longer hear the honkers honking away at their wheels, Nor could he smell the incessant smoke in the air. It was just her in the distance. The pencil sketched away as if it had a life of its own. She stood there waiting for the bus maybe... While he sketched away. The lone strand of her hair gently falling over the contour of her face.. The lips that curved inherently upwards.. The breeze every moment tickling her locks and them swaying atone to the melody that worked its way all around. The high cheeks with a a little flush of the evening as the orange sun added to it. And among them all his pencil strove to capture the one thing which had caught his attention all the while.. Her eyes... Even from his distance he could sense them speaking out.. Full of pain.. How could it be? Such a beautiful lady and yet the pain...... And just as he revised his last stroke he saw her cab arrive... She got in and he realised that it could just be the time when he would ever get to see her. But as he got up to intercede her.. he knew it was late as the cab pulled away.. He saw her recede in the distance forever.. How could it be.. It was just a sight .. Seeing her for the first and now maybe the last time..... He made his way back to his rock.. Looking away into the distance....He would never see her...
The wind making its way.. as the pages of his sketch book fluttered by... And there she lay on every of all the pages yellowed by now..... Sketched the same way.... over and over again... every day..........Somewhere far away in a cab she wiped away her tears.... The doctor had told her to give up... He would live the same day.. for his years to come..... There was nothing they could do for him.. yet she had asked her was there a chance... The doctor had grudgingly replied a remote possibility if he was provided with the same events that unfolded the day he was reliving.. He just might come back... That was all she required.... As the cab came to a shop she opened her purse for the change.. And as she got it out.. There lay the crumpled piece of paper.. She opened it up.. And there she was.. It had come flying up to her with the breeze around.. .. His sketch of her.. The breeze.. was what had brought him to her... And she would not give up.. For she knew.. The breeze would bring him back one day....
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