The Promise

She was sitting cross-legged, running her fingers across the sand, watching the waves clash against each other, every incoming wave washing over its smaller counter parts. There was still sometime for the sunset. She was wearing a white-colored sleeveless kurti and a red-colored patiala. Her long, curly black hair was left loose and she could feel the smaller strands play with her big-looped red earrings each time the wind brushed against her face. A neat,thick line of kohl was drawn below her eyes, in perfect contrast with her pale skin and complemented her high cheek bones. She was beautiful, and she knew it. She sighed knowing how much she craved for these moments that were her own, and she treasured them when she got them. They gave her a chance to look back, and to look forward, to evaluate, and to act. She respected and relished her solitude. The song in her ears sang-

I love the time and in between
the calm inside me
in the space where I can breathe

I believe there is a
distance I have wandered
to touch upon the years of
reaching out and reaching in
holding out holding in

I believe
this is heaven to no one else but me
and I'll defend it as long as I can be
left here to linger in silence

She smiled. Bethany Joy really knew what she was talking about, she thought. She cringed a little, knowing that people were watching her, from the corner of their eyes, or just simply gawking, but she chose to ignore it. She hit the pause button and slowly closed her eyes and felt the calm, felt that serenity that lay within her.

She imagined herself a few years from now. As a beautiful, mature, young woman, who had followed her principles, her dreams and her passions all her life and in the end, had received respect for it. She imagined herself as a sought-after, famous human being. She imagined her picture in the newspapers, her face on hoardings. She imagined money. Ah yes, money. The money that she earned in her strife for independence. The money that would eventually work for her, in her wrinkled days. She imagined a loving, caring husband and two precious little children. She imagined walking her kids to school, with a look of satiation. She imagined a big, lovely home with the interiors designed by her, with the sole intention of making it a place of comfort, contention and spiritualism. She imagined glory, for herself. She imagined pride, in her husband’s eyes. She imagined power, to control anything that she wished to.

She found imagining some of the things difficult, because they were a little out of her league, at the moment. But every time she realized that her imagination wasn’t a perfect sketch of what she actually had in mind, she scrunched her eyebrows and tried to change the picture. And it worked. Well, at most times it did. And each time it worked, she memorized the picture and she gave it more clarity- A better sari there, a louder applause there. She imagined it all happening, in the space between her eyes and her mind. That is where I want to be, and that is the person I will see in the mirror someday, she thought. She breathed in. A long, deep breath, registering that face, that woman, that life. And then, she was done.

She smiled gently as she slowly breathed out, and opened her eyes. The sun was dark red, sinking at the horizon. The clouds were a shade of reddish-orange, trying to reflect the sun, and failing miserably. The entire canvas was ethereal. She sighed. She could feel her imagination spreading out. It’s shot out of my head and has now covered everything that I can see, and can’t see- she thought. She waited and watched the sun go down, a little too fast. A part of my mind is out there, in the Universe, and what’s in it will be taken care of, by the Universe- she thought again. She waited until she couldn’t see the sun anymore. And before darkness could take over completely, she rose from the sand, picked her jutti up and walked out of the beach.

She felt an alleviating calm, in her heart. She felt a lingering peace, in her mind. She felt the belief that she had, in herself. She felt the promise that she had just made, to herself.

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The book of wisdom says that- Dramatic endings must be used intermittently, for the occurrence of stupefaction and awe in correct proportions.