The grand highway is wet with the downpour. The sky is still set to pour. And the clouds cover the whole hills in gray. A blue car sped uphill, with its fog lamps on. Each bough on each turn danced with the breeze. And the lightening echoed with the sound of a soft thunder luring him to stop near a dale that lured many voyagers. And the sign board in green which was written with the phrase “Speed kills” turned to yellow with the reflection of fog lamps. He stopped the car near the edge of a cliff, unlocked the doors, turned off the lights, and walked out towards the end where sky touched the mount.
He is Richard. Richard is a musician who sings blues and plays guitar. Sunday is just a day away. And it is 2 p.m.
His long black coat and his rough hair are soaked with the light rain. His grey beard and his pale eyes spoke about the pain that he carried over the years he lived. There is a story in everyone’s life. Some say them through their art. Some bury them in their heart. He sings blues, and shed tears. Richard, like the rest, had a story. But he never focused on his pain. His strength was his pain that he carried with him like a radio – to hear or feel, and find his muse. When the skies start pouring heavily, and the lightening gave way to the thunder, and the leaves flew away with breeze, he stood still, thinking of a day that shook him seven years ago.
It was the day it all happened. It was the farewell night. It hurts to recall farewell nights. For Richard knew what that day could have done if everything worked as per his dreams. And to him a dream is like a castle made of sand in the beach. People crave it so beautifully, until the sea buries them all in her. The time just flew as the birds migrated from one sky to the other. Thirty minutes past two. He still admires the dale. And his body is wet, and he is feeling cold. The echoes of the distant hill lure his passion. Every bell that rhymed from the other hill pulls his desire to swim to the moon. He loved the light that came down from the moon which swept the wet roads in pearl white. Even the streetlamps get shunned by its glory. Then the mobile phone rings. He walks towards the car, opens the door and takes the call. And the silence drops in while the rainwater drips in. His body is cold. But his heart is warm. He spent with the other person on call for another thirty minutes. And the time is 3 p.m. He has promised to perform a musical concert in the same place from where he was graduated. But this time, there will be no known faces around to listen. There will be strangers and broken hearts around.
As the rain stopped from pouring, and the fog ascended the earth to color the place in peace, he started his undone journey towards the hill. Forty miles – away. And the music player played a song that they used to listen all the time. When it sang the same old song, the time travelled back seven years ago. And the scenes recurred in his memories.
Is there anybody in there?
Just nod if you can hear me.
Is there anyone at home?
Come on, now,I hear you’re feeling down.
Well I can ease your pain
And get you on your feet again.
I need some information first.
Just the basic facts
Can you show me where it hurts?
(To be continued…)