When I look back and see how cheerful a lad that I knew I was, to transform to this, whatever I am, nothing seems like a mistake. And what else could it be, if this is the way I end up? For I would choose the same fate in another chance which I wish to get, knowing very well this place, where I would end up. In hope to just go through it all over one more time, and some more time. For it was a song that began when she appeared from nowhere and for once, all thoughts ended. May it be a song I never stopped to sing all my life in a search without name, and she came and became the tune and words to sing it.
Could it be something that she said or did? Without a doubt I cry yes, and pair it with a loud no. Do I know the beginning? I think I tried to recall and tried hard once or twice, and failed and stopped. Wasted attempts were superfluous, for I would be foolish to waste, though only a second, to deviate from the song. It was a certainty worth listening to, though it shook my foundation and ripped off security. A certainty that said I was devoted to her. The certainty that began as a spark somewhere within and grew till it filled all my being, and it filled up till it ached and pushed me to action.
How well did the things get in place and how vivid were the colours she shot me with. How precise were the syllables she uttered and how diverse it rhymed, the song that she became. How she made me transcend my limitations and how nice it was, to relish the sleepless nights which trained me to face her the day that would come without a notice, and made me say the things which I thought would never dare say. And how she gave me peace till the moment she left without notice, a song that left me after sharing her forty sweet years.
‘I am yours and you are mine’ she said, the words that concluded our conversations the most, which always began nowhere in particular. Could I ever think I should have to live the day that would pass without her? Without the touch that drove me in moments of despair and without the kiss which woke me up in the mornings all despite those sweet fights we had some previous nights. Now would come days without a hush and go the same, and in their silence I find the knowledge that seeps to my core. That my song was no longer to be found in the days to come and that to search in them could throw up only more silence and that it would grow only more heavy.
John asks me to try and smile and reminisce the good times. How would I tell my lad that my song which evolved through all these years has little to do with memory? How do I convey that the song was new every next moment and she was my force that fuelled good times? It has been quite some time that he moved me to this place, and he tries harder to smile at me every passing day.
Now I see the growing brightness around me and hurried voices seem afar. Hour has come at last to go and search for the peace that was mine, one which springs up from my song that she was.