“No, I don’t like this old haggard man”- I growled
He might be 32 but look at him; he does not even carry enigmatic cologne to arouse me in the middle of the morning.
Cracked voice, freckled nose, indulging in a laptop- he has almost stolen even reason that I believed that I had for existence. I know his routine so well that acute certainty suffocates me to demise. Morning coffee, leeching eyes at the neighborhood slum, same peach overcoat, smelly socks this man is nothing – absolutely nothing like the woman I had meet couple of months back..
She might not have been the most beautiful woman in this planet but there were certain things about her which was impeccable- her smile. Well, she has those big talking eyes, but there was such a subtle hint in her smile which often drove me off the cliff.
She used to smile at me often, blank eyes-faraway thoughts and a poisonous smile thrown at me under various pretexts. She was a woman of exuberant power. No, nothing like this howling wolf of a man who suffocates me with cigarette smoke late in the night. Curses woman and at the same time craves them. A hypocrite with family back in the village, a dissimulator just to earn some good words. This man makes me wonder how a woman in her mid twenties can be so crude and classy at the same time.
Let me not divulge in the comparison of belief and ideas among st these two I will somehow end up shrugging my strong shoulder shaking the foundation of this building. Let me tell you something more- some deep hidden secrets of this woman that I have witnessed in the dark hours of the night. Something about her dark ambitious, her ungodly desires.
She lived the life of a man, burning ambitious and audacious decisions. She always walked in the edge; doing things you might not have imagined doing in this birth or the next. She was a fighter- the bravest fighter I have ever known because her opponent was her own self.
Every stroke of the sword that was splitting her opponent was actually oozing blood out of her own body. She was in pain, severe mind numbing pain all the time but look at her beautiful smile. She carried it with so much élan that at times I felt like dozing off staring at them. In her mid twenties slowly dragging towards the hideous 30 she has her family, body and every kith and kin against her dreams her ambitions but somehow somewhere she is single highhandedly walking the deadly terrain.
Is she in love? Yes she is, a part of her brain gets alive at the name of this one individual her smiles brightens, her eyes glitters. Is she with the man she is in love? No she is not. Does this man know? Well let us not trade that route.
Up in the morning in the crumple of her bed sheet, the messy bun on her head, the half read book and cloths that cuddled her last night. I somehow fell in love with every instance of her. Every breath she took, the way she looked, the power she exude. I so longed to touch her for once. Kiss the back of her neck and move down to the curve of her belly. Kiss those eyes that had eluded me for so long. Lie down next to her and watch her slip in deep slumber. Monomaniacal breathe to stay alive through the night. Stuff toys, bitter hate, false praise and innocent, she somehow accommodated everything so flawlessly in her being and yet remained so innocent and untouched of the evils in this earth.
Before leaving she touched me once. Touched me with her soft hands and caressed me down putting her head against my body she told me she will miss me and that I have witness her deepest secrets and darkest games.
I wondered she might have fallen in love with me if I had more flesh and blood to me than mere bricks and concrete. I kissed her back with my closed lips and lived a moment of my own in thousand years. She then suddenly stood up and walked away making me realised I am just a wall. A wall protected her privacy for one year, a wall witnessing her passionate love and gut wrenching hate. I cannot move along with her, travel the world, cross oceans and go beyond geographies to be with her.
She left me along carrying the excruciating weight of the roof on the shoulder, painted with the same yellow while she went ahead and painted herself in love and happiness. In the dark hours of the night when this new man wakes up and opens that door on my belly to go to the restroom I remember her tender body, clad in a satin shorts leaning against my body while reading a book. I could hear her heart beats at times – up and loud.
I don’t know where is she today, which wall amongst the billions of buildings is protected her, relishing her presence. It is the first time in 78 years that I missed not having the power to walk, to transform and speak out for one last time how much and how bad I fell in love with her.
Yellow painted wall.