Drops of water fall from a leaf- a steady trickle at first, then the flow abates and ends with a single limpid crystal sphere gently descending to the verdant growth on the earth below.
The rain has just stopped but grey promising clouds are still looming in the sky.
She watches the scene quietly from the window; counting the days. It seems like months, years, ages…
Once upon a time it was spring. The sunshine was warm upon her face. It threw mottled patterns on her window sill and the birds twittered to attract mates. The flowers bloomed in all brave hues spreading their heavy scents and a warm, gentle breeze brought with it glad tidings.
She could hear the promises he had made. She could hear his voice as if it were yesterday, his gruff laughter. She could feel the strength of his arms as he clasped her in a bear-hug yet there was the gentleness of his fingers on her face.
But even as she shared her little joys and sorrows with him, there was this battle going on within her- a raging battle. She could not explain it but it was there. The union of what she wanted and what she had to do, the clash between what she desired and what she believed in.
Very soon the spring faded with its sunshine and bright hopes. The warm breeze turned cold. The horizon seemed to wear a dull, gloomy look.
“Will spring ever come back?” She asked herself but her question was drowned in a flood of doubts and despair.
Then he left. All that remained of him was a host of memories. At first it was hard to understand. She thought it was hard to understand him and even harder to understand herself.
“One, two…” She counts absentmindedly. It is drizzling again. “Maybe after the monsoons…” She hopes and hums a song she does not hear herself.
The rains soon pass.
Autumn comes with its swirling winds and the courtyard is littered with dry leaves. Hope wanes. Every evening she sits by the window watching the change of season and she discovers she is changing too with time.
“Dear Diary, I feel I am growing. This pain is my tutor. I hope he is happy wherever he is. I pray there is no bitterness in the memories of our moments together,” She writes and smiles slightly as she closes her journal.
Winter brings with it the freezing cold. The rivulet near her home turns into ice and icicles dangle from the eaves of her cottage roof. Flakes of snow have fallen like pillow feathers on her courtyard and garden and along the streets, blanketing everything in pristine beauty.
She sits by the window yet again.
This time a warmth and love fills her heart despite the chill outside as she reminisces on the past year. She feels stronger because she feels neither she nor he is to blame.
She closes her eyes. “We will always be together no matter what reasons or distance separates us. We are a part of each other,” she whispers.
“It was not us. It was circumstances – circumstances that destined us to be apart. God meant it that way.”
The new spring awaits her as she sits by the window and watches the birds migrating back home. Tears trickle down her cheeks but her face is lit with a smile.
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