(Read the First part of The Broken Window here)
The bell rang. But opening the door, made things even worse.
She was standing right there!!! And it all came knocking down, like a flashback.
We never realize the potential of flashbacks, the age old drama technique used on celluloid, but when it strikes for real, its hell.
The moment froze. She stood there, and I did the same. It was as if I choked internally, only I didn’t. Thankfully, she extended a big “Hiii” to make me skip the continuous live stream of flashback in front of my eyes. Stretching my facial tissues only to form a picturesque smile and to move my jaws in typical fasion, I welcomed her inside.
For her, it was as if nothing had happened. And frankly, Nothing had happened.
Everytime, I saw her. Or even her regularly changing DPs in any of the social networks, it only took me back to her thoughts, which was part of the elaborate stalking exercise.
This one time, she was going on about something, and as always I was only trying hard to concentrate on listening on what her little mouth was blabbering. Nodding my head in between, and mixing it up with the “oooh’s and achaa”.
My eyes would wander around her face, making its way from her wobbling eyes to the straight path down her nose only to land on her moving lips. Then struggling to solve the dilemma of choosing one side to wriggle out of her dimples to rest on those flawless cheeks. Completing a full circle, I’ll wander back to her eyes, which would have grown twice the size from when I started the little trip around her face.
“Sun bhi rahe ho ya nahi ?”
And a standard “Haan be” would follow the question, with a little guilt of lying and resolve to listen. Meanwhile, controlling my urge of going on another trip.
Her, bleak little voice called me up. Oye, Sun!!, while I stood there beside the door lost in thoughts.
She looked tensed, but I won’t say that this was the first time; I’ll have to become her sobbing pillow. I had tried my best to stay away from her, from her life and problems. But somehow it would happen that we’ll end up in the very same situation. Call it routine, or destiny, I’ll call it the story of my life.
Anyways, it was something related to the guy which she went on and on about, I tried my best to reason, console and whatever I could holding myself on rational grounds. I wouldn’t say it’s tough to do it, but definitely irritating to the core. Khair, once it was all done and maybe after a few days things were back to being normal for her, life was back to being the same. How would I know of that? Well, No news from her side, meant things were fine.
And the usual would follow. Devoting my time to either penning something down on the laptop or being lost in reveries through the broken window, peeping across the street. Reveries were my true companion. They gave me company, and not limiting myself to times when I’m alone but even when I’m in the midst of a crowd. It’s now part of my identity, finding its way out through my thoughts. My broken thoughts, through windows like these. The broken window.
The window through which children across the streets played football with polythene wrapped like one, the window through which you see countless birds sitting on those tree branches, flying across and the window through which I could see a very different world and Oh, the window through which the flower-woman struggled to sell flowers every day.
Although, there was bheed in front of the flower-woman today. But from what I could notice, it was not to buy flowers from her. I had my doubts on what it was.
My phone rang in the same time. A minutes’ gap to answer the call and when I came back, the woman was not there.
Strange!!! Where did they took her ?
Read what happens next in The Broken Window in the next post.
Part 1 of The Broken Window Series