Read Euphoria II here.
They had come quite some way from the grand entrance;
leaving the city capital behind, seemingly walking together now along the lush
border. His pace was fast but firm, hers had substantially increased but
cautious still. Anybody watching them from a distance would have noticed how she’d
been trying to keep up with him. Step by step. Stealing blushful glances on him. Curling her fingers firm around
his hand every time they’d slip lose. She was unaware of where they were
heading, and unaware she chose to remain. Her heart had found a genuine guide, directions concerned her no more. She had handed her trust, the only possession
that ever belonged with her, to him. She was convinced he’d keep it safe. She was
sure, he’d not let go of her hand that he had bravely held. Despite them being
unusually similar, there were differences that both were aware of. To him, they
secretly mattered. But on her part, she was confident.
***
He weighs everything that comes his way, she takes as it is
offered. He believes she expects him to be like that huge mountain range of red
sand that protects the city of Euphoria, taking the changing weathers and
unpleasant raids of time all on itself; hard and still. She on the other hand
maintains him like a thick bank of cloud, which is soft and moving, sheltering
her from the ruthless sun; and when it’s grey and heavy with gloom, it trusts
her enough to pour down all its pain upon her. She rather conceives him that
way, than to be unmoving and lifeless like a mountain that lacks the ability to
trust and in its sheer arrogance idealizes itself to be self sufficient. She
wants him to be like that flexible cloud which knows moving in isolation
wouldn’t take it nowhere; which knows how its existence would plainly evaporate
in the hollow wind should it hold on within itself. That free spirited bank of
cloud which will top all the mountains and cross all the valleys, together with
her. That is how she wants him to be. He is, however, far from knowing. And she
is yet to tell.
She still gets intrigued by the sight of young pollens
twirling with the wind. She still catches the flying feather between her
fingers. She solemnly holds her breath if ever a fallen star shoots by. She
still collects the beach leaves and looks up to him to complete the wish spell,
like he used to. But he correctly remembers that no more. She would throw tiny
red hollies playfully at him. He would seldom respond. She would heartily pluck
and toss lavender alyssums to him, he would only smile. It secretly surprises her
how little things as these no more appear meaningful to him. And how that which she doesn’t
quite approve of, charms him. She brings herself to terms with this anyhow,
remembering the vow she had made that evening: a little sacrifice for each others’ happiness, a little patience through
a time tough and a time unfavorable.
The weather has changed pretty much ever since the city capital has been crossed. The sky is no more blue. The crispy winter hail keeps blowing, with a rough shower every now and then. Her satin gown is soaked and her henna painted feet are now covered in mud. The kohl has washed out, leaving uneven black smudges below her eyes. Her hair that was made beautifully adorned with pink jasmines and white lilies, is now damp and flowing loose. To him, she looks ethereal all the same. Or so she believes. Nothing matters to her as long as she has him next with her. Neither the rain, nor the wind. Neither her kohl smudged eyes, nor her messed up hair. Neither his forgetfulness, nor his sudden soberness. She had left all the strings behind that ever tied him. Or so she thought. For her, nothing had changed much. She was still completely in the state of Euphoria, still rejoicing the festivity of their togetherness. For her, the magic had remained.
For him, however, the change in weather brought a change in
design. The river fell into stillness. He came to a sudden halt. His face was clouded. What it meant, she
couldn’t fathom. But soon enough, she learned what would follow. He looked deep
into her eyes, touched her soul, and breaking a vow of never leaving, he vowed
to return. Stunned and numb, all she managed to muster up was a faint smile.
Why she made no attempt to stop him, because he had already
warned her. She was, yet again, proven wrong for thinking he acknowledges her
little authority that she believes to have developed on him over this journey. With
every step that he made away, she was driven deeper into a shell. Receiving the
meaningful blows of pouring rain, she collapsed down at a fallen log and fixated
her eyes at his shrinking image. He glanced back at her for one last time –something
broke inside her –and without a word, without a sign, in the middle of an
unknown journey, leaving her all on her own –he disappeared around the corner…
From now onwards, she
will no more delight in slumber. She will now wait. Wait for the sky to turn
blue again. Wait, for him to return.
Read Euphoria IV here
Read Euphoria IV here
