DEDICATED TO: ushaanaya
geetha1972
"The sapphire waters of the ocean caress my feet,
as I stand along the shoreline, eyes shut, reeling in peace.
The impression of my footsteps on the sand,
transient and short-lived as the ripples of seawater,
fill the depressions with residue and salt.
The moist, saline breeze brushes against my cheeks,
the milieu solemn, despondent, and bleak.
With high tide, as the raging waves crash against the shore,
the truth, the revelation leaves me shocked, shaken to the core!
I never knew that you smiled only to mask your frown;
how did you swim against the current, what kept you afloat,
how did the waves of reality not overpower you,
leaving you to drown?
'How did you conceal an entire ocean from me, why?'
my hoarse voice screams out at the motionless sky.
There's no reply, no answer; just a strange silence...
And I am left there, alone to absorb a reality, so dense.
Your pearl-like tears may have dried with the years,
but the pain is there, buried within, concealed beneath the layers..."
-Elegiac_Damsel
______
23rd August
Third person's point of view:
The morning was dreary. The sky overcast and gloomy, befitting the characteristic description of a typical monsoon sky. At brief intervals, the sun would peep from behind the clouds, lighting up the otherwise dark horizon, with its golden light.
It was the 8th day since the wedding.
Ashtamangala; an awaited day for the newlyweds and the new bride. A day when brides return to their maiden home along with their husbands, for a rendezvous with family and friends. The bride's mother pampers her son-in-law, indulging him in delectable delicacies, while the bride breathes in the air of old, familiar surroundings.
Under normal circumstances, the Acharya household would have been bustling with activity. Mrinalini would have draped a new sari around her bodice, excitement radiating off her happy self, at the prospect of meeting her mother and family again. She would have eagerly waited for Debarghya to get ready so they could leave together for Entally. Once there, she would have begged Rai to make her some payesh. She would have rushed back to her old room to check if everything was in order. She would have met her neighbors and played with the children. If only things had been normal!
But the day brought no particular excitement to the two-bedroom flat on the third floor of the old building in Shyambazar.
Mrinalini woke up at dawn and went about her routine.
YOU ARE READING
Mrinalini♦
General FictionThe households in India have been run by women primarily, following the centuries old tradition. From taking care of the child's breakfast to ensuring that the mother in-law's morning cup of tea is served on time, it is always the woman of the house...
