I sipped tea while she sipped coffee as the music of
rain pouring down upon the asbestos sheeted roof filled the room.
She
looked at the rain drops clinging onto the glass pane while I looked at the
tear drops clinging onto her cheek.
Her
heart wished to see the beautiful patterns of the drops of rain on the glass
pane while my heart wished to see her flawless cheek dotted by drops of her
tears which, she never wiped away.
She
looked beautiful especially, when she smiled. But, she looked amazingly
beautiful when she cried.
The
tear drops, like pearls added beauty to the long eyelashes that cradled her big
black eyes.
Each
drop that fell from her eyes was a unique gem containing her essence in their
purest form. For, tears are pure, purer than the fake smiles.
Each afternoon, she would come by, walking across
my lawn, stumbling against pots, apologizing and grinning sheepishly. The grin
reminded me of my childhood. It was the same grin flashed by a kid who had
bullied me.
I
hated it.
So
each afternoon, when she came by,
I narrated stories-tearjerkers. I made her cry-out of happiness! And when, I
couldn’t tolerate her smiles, I made her cry-out of sadness. But, she came every afternoon without
fail. A routine, formed for life.
I
just made her cry every single afternoon when she visited a wheelchair
confine that I am, without ever reminding her of my disability, without ever
reminding her that she was the one who ran her car over me in drunken rage !
Image : A pic clicked by me
***