She shuddered in the icy air as a gust of wind ruffled her
hair violently. Her eardrums were beating with the incessant hollow echoes of
the breeze, hindering her ability to think clearly. She felt a sudden chill run
up her spine, which had utterly nothing to do with the external atmosphere.
He’d said it. Finally, those words were out in the open,
uncaged, prancing in the chilly air, flowing in the space between his languid mouth
and her brooding ear.
Those three words which were so loosely thrown around in
today’s age, stolidly in conversations with not-even-acquaintances, held a
different meaning for her altogether. For her, it was almost blasphemous to
think that these three musketeers were passed over so breezily amidst
air-kisses in elite parties; flung out of the blue and thrust upon in
telephonic conversations; assigned in Monotype Corsiva font as a footnote to the
sweet chime of ‘You’ve got mail’ accompanied by a non-committal ‘See you soon’.
They sat apart, unmoving, hesitating
to say anything, perfectly motionless in the swerving air, like some sort of a
pre-duel ritualistic mad dance.
Under the shade of her thick eyelashes,
she chanced a glance at his face. His face was perfectly expressionless, revealing
neither regret nor any kind of expectation. His brows were relaxed and he
seemed to be a little too interested in his cuticles. The stillness clung on,
intermitted by the hollow shrieks of gusts of wind, imploring the two to voice
their opinions.
She gave up to the nagging
grandmother of a wind and broke the silence.
‘You
really mean it?’ she said.
He nodded slowly in response.
A tear silently rolled down her
cheek. She had waited and waited for so long, that it felt surreal when it had
finally happened. Things had seemed dark for some time and she had begun to
think of surrendering to her family’s orthodox whims. She felt a sense of
elation flood her senses and under her breath, began humming to the tunes of ‘Love
Is Here To Stay,’ the tessitura of which seemed to increase with each passing
refrain.
Their eyes met, his face partially
covered in the white moonlight and their eyes crinkled in unison.
She touched his hand and whispered, ‘See you tomorrow.’
She hurried back home, skipping
along the gravel, a crimson color flooding her cheeks, her jaws aching with
happiness and burst into the warmth of her humble cottage. Her mother looked at
her expectantly and as mothers sense every emotion brewing in their child’s heart, through an untold telepathic connection, she knew something had happened.
‘He
said it, Mother! Oh, he said it.’
Her mother smiled and took her in
her arms, ‘I’m so so happy for you.’
‘The
pay is not much,’ her voice muffled in her mother’s hair, ‘but I get to sing every Friday with the Symphony
Orchestra at the Churchill Theater.’ She bubbled and sobbed with tears concocted
with the two cacophonous elements of ecstasy and pure disbelief and whimpered, ‘Mummy, This is it. Finally. I am hired.’
