Varia looked up, the dark sky, it was dark, no shades, not like the Chromatograph that Indira teacher shared where the core was dark and the hues lightened as they from the source of colour. it was almost six hours since she openned the blind. slowly she drifted back to the events that brought her here.
“Varia, it is a relief for him and you”
“You should move ahead in life”
Varia felt if she heard one more such statement she would jump of the ledge. She looked at the sky it was as if, Anshu her son, was talking to her,
“Mama what do you see? The blue sky of what might be?”
This train of thought was his favourite at day break, but today, it was as if he went into another zone, the conversation was happening in the evening, ,”now what mama, instead of the blue sky of what might be do you see the darkness of what will never be. ”
Varia stifled a sob, “or what mama do you see me?”
Unable to take this anymore, she needed to run away, from herself, from her husband Vipul who never was around during the two years that Anshu was sinking, of course work had kept him busy. She drove to the only place where she could find solace, her studio, she had reduced going there over two years and the last two months she had just not been there.
It was two weeks now, since her son had died, so had her marriage, the day after the funeral Vipul told her that their marriage was over since he had moved on in life and she had not. … everyone Varia thought is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody. So had Vipul, he had calmly told her that he was in relationship with his new partner for the past two years, over the two years Varia had been thrown out the company she had started, and the saddest part she didn’t know of it.
Slowly she opened the studio door, and the blinds into the terrace, where the sun was setting. She had another week before she moved out of the flat that she and Vipul had bought as if to distract her, a thought floated in,
”why is it that the night falls instead of rising like the dawn?”
She smiled to herself, like she was hugging a secret, for if you east at sunset, you see the night rising, not falling, darkness lifting into the sky, up from the horizon… suddenly Varia laughed and uncontrolled laughter, till her she had tears running, soon it went into controllable sobs, and then she went numb.
Nobody looks good in their darkest hour. Neither did Varia, but it’s those hours that make us what we are. We either stand strong. We emerge victorious, tempered by our trials or fractured by a permanent damning fault line.
Varia was a victor, woke from the trance, out the cocoon of self pity and helplessness, into the silent garden. It was dawn, a time when nothing breathes, the hour of silence. Everything is transfixed only the light moves. It is the emergence of the new day, and the new life.