They talked.
"She worked in the night shifts and liked it very much."
"Yeah, don't know about the work though but she was fond of the timings."
"I know! She thought it was as if when you sleep after work and everyone else is awake, they are taking care of you - not disturbing you consciously. And in the night when everyone is asleep and you are awake - you are looking at all of them - sleeping in their innocence."
Exactly the same way he looked when he slept - with his hair tousled and his brows drooped, he looked like a child - he always had.
"Do you remember how fat she had grown towards the end?"
"Yes, of course with all that sweet stuff she always kept having - God forbid anyone with such a desire of anything sweet."
"Of course, why have all that sugar and kill yourself."
"People say she went on gulping copious anything with sugar after he passed away. That made her sicker by every passing day."
He was such a conscious freak that he would never have anything sweet - she had told his sister once when they were in the high-school. In the school she would have a sweet custard and he would have French fries during the recess. At home she would have a cream roll while he would go for a chicken roll. At the weddings she would savor the cake and he would be content with the drink. At thanksgivings while she would be tasting all the puddings possible, he knew he would be having just the turkey. At their wedding he fed her the cake with his own hands and when her turn came, he just kissed her cream covered lips - that was all he had of it. And when they danced the ball in the reception, she had asked her in contempt about having the cake at least at this occasion. He had whispered to her, "You know Ruth, when we were kids, and the first time you had asked for that candy, I wanted you to have it so much that I just couldn't have it. And then the more I saw you the more I felt like me not having the sweets will make everything sweet for you. Call me crazy, but I had always wanted you to be happy and get all that you wished for. I love you Ruth." She had not known what to speak then. Everything was just so sweet like chocolate. Choked she had danced with her head resting on his chest.
Song: Bittersweet Symphony ...
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Express!
"The thing about trains is - it does not matter if you don't know where to go, what matters is to get into the train." - said the conductor of the Polar Express to the boy one Christmas night. It was cold and snowy and he was just too numb with the amazement and tiredness of the journey he had just taken. In the numbness he felt asleep. The next morning he woke up and to his surprise Mr. C had got him the thing he lost - the emblem of his belief - the bell - you could hear it only if you believed. And believing he embraced it to continue doing so throughout his life.
She had looked and heard of these lines time and again when she had gone through this motion picture experience. She had traveled the Polar Express with belief always. And everytime she took on the journey, she experienced and noticed something brilliant about a larger journey called life. This time it was about confusion. A state of mind where you cannot take a decision as to what is white and what is black, what has to be done and which path has to be chosen. The question of right and wrong. Life is all about it. Criss crosses - lines and lives passing by, through and around other lines and lives. May be that is what it is - definition wise.Some regret of it being so, some dont knwo what to do about it, some feel elated with the thought of it, but eventually everyone accepts the eventuality of it.
Thinking on these and other lines she knew all her actions have been decided by her belief. And that while she did not always know where they took her, she knew she would get the threads end tied to some point where she would understand why she treaded the was she did. More importantly, there, at that point she would find the beginning of another thread. It was getting cloudy in the west - the golden lines had already engulfed the fiery one. She was sure though that those black patches were to go away. It never rained in the night at her place, especially during that time of the year. So she grabbed her crutches and stabilizing herself on them moved slowly one step at a time - to the Express!
Song: Her name was Lola, She was a showgirl
She had looked and heard of these lines time and again when she had gone through this motion picture experience. She had traveled the Polar Express with belief always. And everytime she took on the journey, she experienced and noticed something brilliant about a larger journey called life. This time it was about confusion. A state of mind where you cannot take a decision as to what is white and what is black, what has to be done and which path has to be chosen. The question of right and wrong. Life is all about it. Criss crosses - lines and lives passing by, through and around other lines and lives. May be that is what it is - definition wise.Some regret of it being so, some dont knwo what to do about it, some feel elated with the thought of it, but eventually everyone accepts the eventuality of it.
Thinking on these and other lines she knew all her actions have been decided by her belief. And that while she did not always know where they took her, she knew she would get the threads end tied to some point where she would understand why she treaded the was she did. More importantly, there, at that point she would find the beginning of another thread. It was getting cloudy in the west - the golden lines had already engulfed the fiery one. She was sure though that those black patches were to go away. It never rained in the night at her place, especially during that time of the year. So she grabbed her crutches and stabilizing herself on them moved slowly one step at a time - to the Express!
Song: Her name was Lola, She was a showgirl
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