Saturday, May 23, 2009

Mirror in my sunset parlour


Ultimately, happiness comes in all shapes and sizes. For me it's being with my close family and friends. I loved the rain and the green-orangy paddy fields. I was lazy to talk, though i was talkative.
Sometimes happiness came in tints of reflective silver...

Every day as I passed the 'Guzzlers Inn', i would see through the broken glass window of Oliver's sunset parlour - a gleaming broken mirror. For a 16 year old who loved archies comics, race-sped bikes and jealous about my neighbours cars, i was too corny at times to peep and have a look of me in the mirror on the way to my aunts house. I had a rust machine for a cycle. My mom always wished it was kept in the backyard of our house. So that i wont go conch-shell hunting in the beach or go rollo-cycle rolling to my aunts place making sneery sounds. But beneath the tom-boyyish self there was a pretty girl who overlooked the day her prince charming arrived.

Finally, the day arrived. The rain had painted the countryside grey. The clouds looked sad, with the wet parrots and the green leaves making a desperate attempt to smile.
I was on my way to my aunts place, i stopped by Guzzler's to have a look at the dazzling me that others failed to notice. But there was someone smiling back at me this day. I went closer. There he was. The pearly whites have done wonders to me. The smile! I blushed and sped away on the rain-painted road.

Days followed, and the smile became a part of my life. Everyday, i tore along the dotted line on the road to stare at the smile and blush away. Time, kept vanishing, life perched me on a buzy metro city. Education enthralled me in a different way, college never excited me. But the city did. I was forced to leave behind my girlhood and the memories of my rusted cycle.

And then on another rain-drenched day, i lumbered into the townside that i used to race through. I passed the beach. The cycle was rusted and my thunderous ego dint let me sit on it. While my steering wheels, trundle down the road. At 22, somewhere deep within, i had the urge to walk into the Guzzlers Inn, though i had a better definition for the word 'infatuation'. I wanted to meet the person who excited me, and made me smile.

Now, years later, i was crushed to see that the Guzzlers Inn was not there. I did not stop to have a look at what happened. While i passed by, I peeped into the rear view mirror.
There was the Guzzlers Inn and through the broken glass window i could see the mirror. My happiness in reflective silver, left in the mirror of my mind.

I drove away to highways in sunset chrome and blueberry blues...

2 comments:

Tinker Belle said...

bicycles have this strange quality of creating some really precious memories. i loved my bicycle more than anything else, mainly because it meant freedom to me. somehow, the world didn't seem that big a place with a bicycle to ride on!

Snigdha said...

wow girl...loved all ur post