Every night gives way to a new dawn… and that has been a universal truth always. It was a truth filled with hope of a new beginning no matter how troubled the past may have been. Each passing moment may sound like an echo of some ancient bells of a dormant dream. Life is difficult. But that is OKAY. Nothing comes easy. But it is the pain that is unbearable. And the greatest pain is when no one understands the pain the other goes through. Someone must be there, to take a stand beside every soul to touch their heart and give some love. Syd loved fairy tales. He was a man with the heart of a child. His life became a mystery after the 27th of November. He lost the will to communicate through words but that just opened a new gate to unleash his pent-up emotions. ART. And unknowingly, it had begun the healing process in him. The dashes of his brush and the splashes of vibrant colours on the pale canvas spoke volumes of his feelings and gave insight to the man he once was.
On the hill beyond the horizon, the ancient bell of the old, old church on the steeple chimed thrice. His grandfather was buried there. The man he always looked up to… for help, for guidance and for inspiration. He had taught Syd essence of life in a simple way – “All good things you do will always come back to you”. Syd now recalled his big, brown, twinkling eyes with pain and sadness in his own. How he wished he was alive and there for him! Today is November 27th. It is a Sunday. And he is at his haven of peace. Yes, there is peace. There is silence. If you can call ‘silence’ as ‘peace’, then yes, Syd had it. No one is around. No one bothers to be around for anyone anymore. You are on your own. You are left to be on your own. The lone place is vast and grassy. The sky above is clear and the sun plays hide – and – seek with the tufts of clouds. Slowly, like crystal tears down a babe’s alabaster cheek, the little drops of rain began to fall. They fell with a purpose – to touch his soft skin and to soothe his cold heart. The chirping birds watch from the safety of their fragile nests. The green leaves welcome the drops of rain, for it is their only chance to sparkle in a world where they grow, forgotten. Syd loved this place. For as long as he can remember, this was his home, his haven, his safe refuge. Even when tragedy struck, this place understood him like no human could, consoled him like the mother he never had. November 27th. Time flies… His eyes wandered here and there, looking for a place to sit. He walked bare-footed through the wet grass, dragging his long coat to sit on a stone that read, “The Good Never Die… They live on in the annals of memory and time”. He sat there, staring at the unique land, and decided to open up his heart once again to the only family he had – the land he called his own.
Syd was not a loner two years ago. He had met and married Rachel. Rachel – the girl with the long brown hair and merry brown eyes. She was not beautiful, but she was a beauty. There was a beauty of spirit and soul, which reflected on her face, and made it quite radiant. It created an aura which surrounded her. And this radiance and this aura had captured his heart. Their love was known to each mortal in the town. She met Syd at a coffee shop when he was reading a book about a painter whom both of them admired. She was a painter too. But she was not a silent character like Syd. She was intrigued by life after death and the tragedy behind unworthy lies. She spoke at lengths about both these mysteries. They started meeting often, and finally fell in love. That was on the February 14th. The day the whole world celebrates Valentine’s Day. They celebrated their Love.It is true that all good things must come to an end. But too prematurely, for some. Some reach the skies of bliss, when something unimaginable occurs, and they come crashing down. On the eve of November 27th, as they were driving towards an orphanage, they met with an accident. Rachel was killed. Instantly. A gentle life snuffed out by death’s cruel clutch. Syd escaped. Barely. But he escaped. And that made the difference in his life. Oh, how he wished he had died with her. He was heartbroken. He was wrecked by absence of her smile, her touch and her laughter. He didn’t cry. He just sat down and recalled all the dreams they had seen together, and the times they spent each other in each other’s arms. You know you are alone when your loved ones are gone. You know you are alone when you are all by yourselves. And his life was now an empty shell, with no one to call his own. And there was pain. There was agony. But out of agony, Hope is born.It’s almost evening now. The crickets are chirping their evening song, telling him to go home. But there is no one waiting for him there. There is nobody to open the doors to welcome him with a tender kiss. Life is dead. Above all the cloudless sky, a star shines at him, smiles at him as if saying “Dear One, you are not alone”. He found love in that glittering star. For he knew it was her, his Rachel.The dusk swept the day into the waiting hands of night. He is still in the same place where heaven touches earth, and womb gives birth to an infant through the doors of Heaven, only to find final rest in the Tomb. Rachel’s tomb shines even at dark. Like her. On her tomb, the infamous verse was written “All go unto once place; all are of the dust, and all turn to dust again”. Tears fell slowly down his cheeks. The church bells bid him farewell. He walked back to his house. Everyone thinks that life ends with just a story to smile. But no one believes that a life has more than many tales to cherish. Syd is a recluse. But he is dreamer who never gave up on his hopes and dreams. For out of agony, Hope is born.
The night is still young, and he walked under the shade of golden lights that flickered. The narrow lane to his house looked scary, but his spirits were on fire that could set blaze any obstacles. And when he reached his doorframe, and pushed the doors to get inside, a note with a telephone number was stuck just below the bells that were hung so low. He didn’t bother to read it, but pushed the doors and got inside. His life was always this way. Every Sunday he went to Rachel’s tomb, prayed and came back, to be lost in memories. This day was no different. He found his bed, and crashed onto it. But his eyes caught the letter kept beside his pillow, with a fresh rose flower. His hands reached to pick them up, and he smelled the tender flower. The rose is beautiful. People always are careful to pluck a rose flower thinking the thorns might hurt them. But he wasn’t scared of anything. He found a different letter along with the rose flower. It was not the usual letter that he writes and keeps while he leaves the house. Because every day when he comes back, he reads it again, and goes to sleep. It is like a strange hobby. Something like an inspiration.
And the letter read, “I don’t know who you are, or where you are from. All I know is the intense spirits that you possess. If I ever get a chance to see your heart, your beautiful heart, I would spend the rest of my life in your arms, in your heart, in your dreams. I don’t know your name, your past, or your present, but all I know is that I am falling in love with you. And if you ever give me a chance, I will spend the whole life with you, in your arms, in your dreams. Every life has a beginning, and an end. And I know you are alive, and real. And I want to say these three words to you that, I love you… Yes, I am in love with you… – Emily”
Each small candle in this room shimmers with different colors, and radiates fragrance. The ancient black telephone on the ancient wooden desk is never busy anymore. But he rushed outside his house, looked high above the sky, and saw the same star twinkling at him. And he smiled, took the note that was stuck on the doors, and got inside. And all he wanted to hear was the telephone ringing at her end. For he knew, every night gives way to a new dawn and his dawn was just a night away… And the candles were still blazing at the background, spreading fragrance…