The Obvious.

Silently the time passed by. She didn�t bother to look at her watch, to see since how long she was sitting, idle, looking at horizon, thinking. Her face was expressionless. There was no movement except for the rustling of leaves by the cool breeze, which was flowing, gently caressing her hair. She had impressive tresses, long, the colour of pitch black just like night, mysterious and every time she drew the front ones back to her ear, they slipped back, flirtatiously. Everything was the same, the breeze, the trees, the smell of the soil, the horizon, her hair. Everything. But she felt a sting of strangeness. Something was missing. But I never miss anyone, she thought. But she knew something was definitely missing. Her mind plunged into whirlpool of thoughts, about home, about office, about friends, about the little girl begging on the streets this morning, about eunuchs who came in groups to collect money from men at the signal. No clue yet. There has to be something. It just can�t be a weird feeling without any reason. I though I was happy and content. Think again, think, think, think. But that was the only thing she was doing then.The evening sun was about to set; he blushed red as if in reaction to a compliment. It was about to become dark, just like her hair. And the streets below would lighten up with glittering lights. But the balcony would remain dark. She had decided. No light tonight. She wanted to talk to the dark. To play with it. There would be no moon today. She did not want it to be. She just wanted answer. The one, for which she was looking since a long time. What is it that has the strength to bother me, this much? She closed her eyes as if in deep meditation, but the pupils still shook from behind the eyelids, as if searching something, in her mind, in her soul.It was almost dark now. She was more restless. The easy chair she was sitting on no more felt comfortable. Her knees started aching since she sat in the same position for God knows what time. She shifted a bit. Even the thought of steaming, frothy coffee she had in the evening didn�t make her feel good. She was at her own home now. The place where she grew up. The same walls where she scribbled meaningless stuff during pre-school days. The same terrace where she used to help her mother dry rice flakes and papads. The same cupboards behind which she used to hide to surprise her father. The same bed under which she would crawl when she was angry and crawl out when bribed with chocolates by her grandpa. Everything is so familiar here. She felt. Now, am I a stranger here? A guest? Will I be treated like one? She felt a tear struggling to escape the limits of the corner of her eye. She let it.It was completely dark, pitch black, just like her hair. Except for the fact that her hair was swaying while being caressed by the flowing cool breeze. As expected the lights on the street below glittered, just as they did, since ages. The house was now calm, just like it was, ever. Only two days back it was bustling with people. Crowd, she corrected. It was festive crowd that had gathered. She shuddered imagining the number of people who had occupied the very house. Every one knew it was more than what the building could actually accommodate. But there was not a soul who complained about it. Not even she herself or her family. Everybody seemed to be in sync with the happenings.Enjoyment, dancing, songs, laughs, giggles, little boys and girls playing in the garden and running all around the house. The different variety of flowers that adorned the whole house, and the fragrance they spread around, which mixed with agarbatti smoke and made her nauseate. Still she did not hate it. Aunties trying to tease young girls - yet to be married. And they in turn blushed and turned apple red. She never understood what made them blush. She never blushed. It was good fun though. She was enjoying every moment of it. The celebrations, the rituals, the ceremony - her marriage!! He is a gem of a person, she remembered one of her aunts saying and wondered how in the world she knew. Then she had laughed, with twinkling eyes and glossy lips, which curved deeply to show off her meticulously aligned denture. It left a deep dimple on her left cheek.She stood watching her. She is still the same, she thought. The same moody behavior, the same thinking, the same look on her face when she was confused, the same long tresses (just that they are longer now) untamed, just like her, so very much like her. She smiled. She looked so beautiful the other day. I should have told her then, she thought. I will tell her now, but� She knew she was thinking. She knew what it was.She thought she heard music. The song she liked very much. She was not sure if it was really being played somewhere or was she hallucinating. Then someone increased the volume. She could now hear the lyrics too. Yes, it is the same song. I still love it. Mom knows I love it when it is played in complete silence. The silence like this one, when I�m all alone. It takes me out of this world. Will this be the same? She didn�t want to think more. She got up and moved towards the parapet wall from where she could see the busy road. The music grew louder. She knew it was her own stereo system that she had bought from her first salary. How much she loved music. Nah! How much she lived music.She turned around, just to see her holding a cup of her favorite steaming frothy coffee, smiling, love in her eyes, hair loosely made into a plait (just that now there were shades of grey in them). Oh I always knew where I got these tresses from. She smiled too, with shining eyes. �You looked so beautiful on the day of your marriage, I forgot to tell you� she handed the coffee to her and sat on the easy chair. As if a custom, I followed her and sat beside her on floor and placed my head on her lap. Everything was so perfect now. Exactly. She knew what was missing. She had the answer, which was so obvious. Why hadn�t I found it earlier?Everything is going to be the same, just as it always was. She closed her eyes.My mom makes the best coffee.