The Fenced Wood (First Draft…First Installment)

Time stood standstill, yet the desire for the eternal servitude drives the lost soul for a lifetime. It was late in the night and little early for an early morning walk; she was alone seeking company in the mirage that reflects in the far away firmament, for she has never been part of it. A sudden rupture of emotional outburst compelled her to take a hiatus, a break from the daily routine of self-assessment. She did perform all sorts of self-awakening exercises, indeed, to reaffirm herself that she is still alive. That very moment, she wishes to halt a bit so that she could nourish her soul, again, so that she could count another moment as her own.

My dear, life, when it seeks unknown reasons to testify the living, many a gratitude seems minute and irrelevant to count. There, she was alone counting every single second and letting the moment pass by for the grandeur that we called life. In fact, she wanted to thank few. She wished to express her gratitude to all. But there were none. At times, it seems shadows were all she could communicate with!

And the usual glimmer that she got to see in the far away realm of fenced wood, looked like her lost companion. Though it has no definite shape yet it reflects an image that her heart yearns to see. Sometimes, the very sight seems forbidden for human senses. And it is only the heart that knows the recluse. Whenever got the chance, she tried hard to make a glimpse out of the outline so that she could conjure up her favourite image that she desperately wanted to see. But it was like imitating her lost faith. It hovered there, just a glimmer. May be that was the only glimmer of hope!

The fenced wood, that divides the gap between two lost worlds of her solitude and unbound prospect of companionship, never allowed her to settle down. It’s not that she didn’t try to make it more profound, but it never happened. Every now and then, the thirst for the unseen quest drove her inner self to becalm the senses; it was like embalming the decease and asking the body to react at every single thrust of the incisor. She was confused.

She still remembered the first meeting. She wanted and even tried to forget but the first meeting is first meeting, always. It lingers too long for a lifetime. It was indeed the flame that burnt her world. And she was still there among the debris, collecting bits and pieces of the past. And of course considering herself one amongst them! No complaints though. She knew it well that she allowed it to happened; and happen it for the worst. But deep inside her heart, the pain that culminates from the constant reminder of the separation resides heavily. It knows no sympathy and she knew no compromise. May be it played its part yet asking for more.

That day, nothing extraordinary happened. Morning was calm as usual and everything occurred to routine. May be extraordinary was waiting for its chance. While composing a note on the daily chores of being a lonely girl, she wanted to take a long walk and talk to herself.

Time was 5:00 in the evening, perfect for a lonely stroll. She did. Happy she was with herself, thinking a walk and little soliloquy will do wonders to her rather mundane life that barely produce sparks. The beauty of a burning flame and the occasional sparks that poke out randomly, that’s the sight she always wanted to see. A bonfire, she thought would be perfect for the evening and susurrus of falling leaves in the backdrop. Life, when alone, needs sparks and rhythm of heartbeat to rejuvenate it. Yes, the lull, the gap, the break, it all have their say. But what is life without occasional turbulences. This was how she consoled herself. And in her case, turbulence was, most of the time, not within her control. Now she was alone; being alone is also a form of turbulence that might engulf better part of the life. She talked to herself. Fire needs fuel. The very next moment she was collecting woods and unknowingly she was collecting fuel for a fire that she might not be able to douse in her lifetime. The moment was ripe and she was alone.

Something struck hard in her forehead. It was bleeding. It cannot be just another fortuitous accident. Blood cannot bleed by chance. Something has to disturb the flow, external or internal. Blood can ooze out, it can drain or even it can just drip. The rate may vary, but it’s for sure, the life giving fluid is leaving her at its own will.


(Will Continue…)