Faltering and falling into infinity

The evening prayer call floated through the starry sky and gently filled up the East park. She was sitting on one of her favorite benches right opposite to the central fountains observing the scenes around her. A family of four had just entered the park, and the youngest of the lot jumped into the grass lawns while teasing her elder brother to join her. Maybe it was the way in which she gestured to him that she was reminded of similar scenes on the beach back home. Her mother used to tell how she tugged her dad’s khakhi trousers in an effort to make it all “sandy”. She could faintly remember how she used all the might of her little fingers to clutch the crease of his pants while he carefully guarded the little one from getting hurt. A rush of emotions filled her head and she had to focus on the fountain to regain her balance. It was all ironical to her – the whole process of life. The more she held on to thoughts, people, places and love the more it eluded her grip slipping away into the far corners of the universe. The elder brother lifted the little one up and trudged far away from their parents. Then she began to ponder on the whims and wishes of her own which seemed to pull her away in different directions. Yet, she clutched on to each one of them in the hope of making peace and showing her affection. Far from it, she was affected by serious bruises and some unrelenting scars that are a constant reminder to her futile plans of clutching and wailing. At this exact moment, she could spot the little one escaping her brother’s clutches and her parents’ frantic bid to return to them. The cute one in pink frock, who a while back was uncomfortably wrapped in her brothers arms now broke free and ran to the central fountain. First in slow paces, and then picking up speed as the cool splash of the fountain neared. Her feet began to grow restless, and the next thing she could feel was the cool air blowing across her face as she dashed towards the fountain. In the sense, it didn’t seem like running away from people, their plans and egoistic battles but running towards the only constant trickle of the fountain at the center. As she sprinted across the lawns, she could almost hear her own folks cautioning her about the stumbles which lay ahead. But this time, the little girl on the beach had let go of everything and running to the waves – the symbol of constant cycles in her life. She was free.


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