The Cycle

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He felt disoriented, stranded…The morning was nothing like that. There was fresh air, new rays, a cobblestoned pathway…everything was in order, except him….he stopped pedaling his bicycle and breathed deeply. The smell of wet mud filled his nostrils. Was there rain yesterday?
He looked at the pathway and found it deserted. why is she not coming? he surprised himself by asking it.He laughed to himself. He took out a cigarette, lighted it and took a long draught. Slowly he poisoned the air and himself. A breeze came and it brought a lot of fallen leaves with it. He took one and slowly crushed it. For some reason, the word stuck to him…” fallen”. We have fallen from heaven to earth, from womb to the home, from innocence to ‘sin’nnocence. We even say “I have fallen in love”…why can’t anyone rise?…..
A breeze came again and he saw her. She was walking slowly as always, savouring the wind.the earth, the morning.There was a contented smile on her face, serene.
from last 2 weeks, he has been seeing her, on the same pathway, at the same time, with the same bundle of white lilies in her hand. He has never talked to her but has shared a smile or 2 while passing.She was at least 80, maybe more but still when she laughed she had that energy of a school girl. “today I am going to talk to her” he decided. He looked at her and suddenly she clutched at her chest and started to fall down.He threw the cigarette and ran to her.He could able to catch her before she hit the ground. In ragged voices, she mouthed “water”. He helped her to sit on the footpath and took his water bottle from the bicycle. She drank slowly and sat with eyes closed for some time.
“are you ok,” he asked. She laughed weakly and told, “of course I am, sorry to bother you son”. Oh, that’s fine…he told.She slowly leaned on to the railing and looked at him clearly.
“are you new here son?” she asked.
“yes.I got shifted here 3 weeks before. Neil by the way” he extended his hands.
“A pleasure to meet you.I am Sara “
She slowly stood up holding his hands.Neil took the bundle of lilies and gave to her.
“so thank you son, I feel fine now.When you have time do come to my home.its just around the corner with a lot of lilies in front”
“are you sure you are fine?I will be happy to escort you”
She laughed and told, “are you trying to court me, young man?”
“in a way, yes. So shall we?” saying this he took her hands and they started walking.
“so where are we going?”Neil asked.
“to the cemetery, these flowers are for my son.They were his favourites you know….”
“oh I am sorry”
“you don’t have to be.He lived a full and happy life.He was  an artist, he used to draw flowers, of every color, size and shape. They looked more real than real flowers and sometimes he used to cry saying “why can’t I infuse their smell into these drawings?”…. but he was afraid of people. He used to say “they look beautiful but they smell bad”. So we left far from them, only he and me……its been 3 months since his death, but I never felt like he has gone away.He is in every flower that I see, and flowers are everywhere you see…. “saying this she slowly sniffed those lilies.
Neil couldn’t say anything.They walked hand in hand and they reached the cemetery.He stopped on the perimeter and let Sara go.She slowly knelt in front of the pyre named ‘Frederick’ and kept the lilies there.
A breeze came again, this time, a bit cooler.He looked at the horizon and found it cloudy, rain was coming. He looked at Sara and saw her tears slowly falling onto the lilies.It made the lilies more beautiful. He took his phone and dialed a number that he has not dialed in a long long time.On the 2 nd ring the call connected and he told “mom, I am coming back home” , and it rained

Arjun

http://amitrajyoti.com

Arjun here.From Kottakkal, Kerala,India. I am interested in anything that is interesting and writing comes among the top of that list. I read,I write,I live.

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