Dreams would wait

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He looked back. The calendar pages moved against the surging wind. He stood there looking at the colorful slopes of the hills afar. His eyes hadn’t blinked for several minutes. It was 23 summers ago. The frills of his memory was still afresh. The Yardley Rose wafted in surrounding him in a maze of moments. He first smiled and then sobbed and then smiled again.
It wasn’t bad to remember the best moments of a lifetime. But sometimes memories are the most brutal of enemies that invade your present, crush you in its treacherous fists and then throw you into the corner basket. The very monuments that once connected a life with a lifetime ago, will come back to remind and haunt. The handkerchief that still smelt of the rustic rose that touched him for the first time, the first handwritten phone number that gave away the address where his dreams resided, the favorite song that sent two hearts into a wild twirl every evening. All these become burdens of shame later even at the slightest remembrance for many. Yet for him, it was different. They formed the bedrock of his present, gave him the fire to inspire himself and to ignite the feelings that egged him on to live each day.
The first touch was a casual brush of her hand and the first look was a glance in agony. He had stood there, his mouth agape. She was god’s greatest creation, carved in the choicest of curves, her eyes that dreamed out his beliefs, his trust and his choices for several summers that flew by in a frightening pace. That first taste of her lips were the first taste of sweet nectar and when their breaths entwined, the raging fire seemed not to end. The endless hours of nothings in hushed whispers, the long walks that never reached anywhere; the wintry memories rushed past. Suddenly he could feel the rush. Twenty three years hence, today in a few hours from now, they will meet again.
She talked about her puppy and how naughty her second child is. Life had treated her well, she remembered, looking away from his persistent gaze. She never saw the dapper suit he wore, the exciting cologne failed to reach her, the fancy four wheels that brought him there. She was trying not to be herself in those minutes. His eyes looked into her. She could never face them again. That’s when she felt it. The familiar rush of the perfume he wore came rushing in riding on the wavy winds that seemed to wallow in like an orchestra
She looked back into his eyes. He saw that her’s had welled up. Her lips were trembling to hold herself together. The raging fire had started all over her and he could feel its tremors about to awaken his senses. In another moment or a few minutes hence, it would all come back. The winter that missed them a lifetime ago is about to fall in place. He could listen to the rhythm of his own heart that swelled out. He was choking. He badly wanted a whiff of fresh air as he began to gasp.
“Are you okay?” She was asking him, tears spilling over her eyes. He wanted to tell her he was okay and this would pass. He felt a huge pressure building up within him. He was out of control and another moment without a release, he would be gone. He didn’t want that to happen. Not with her around. He didn’t want her to see him in that state.
Suddenly he woke up. Gathering his loose pajamas, he ran to the toilet. Dreams could wait but his bowels wouldn’t!
Sujil Chandra Bose

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