Chasing Shadows

 

He was sure that it was her...almost!  He walked briskly down the pavement, overtaking several fellow pedestrians.  She wore a white top and a flowing blue skirt. Her hair flew tantalizingly behind her as it used to all those years ago...when she was merely a part of his imagination, his dreams. And today, as he saw her, he felt as if his imagination has worn a clout of reality and stepped right out of his thoughts. He stepped closer; she was observing photographs displayed in the open air exhibition among many others but his eyes stared at her in disbelief and déjà vu. And miraculously, his sight stirred her attention towards him and their eyes met. Those two strangers gazed into each other's eyes for minutes as the world around them moved at its own pace, as if their eyes were trying to open few entangled knots of their past. And then, the boy accompanying her shook her shoulder and walked her away. He was still gazing at her departing image without saying a word and she was also stunned by the strange connect with this man among these people. They both felt as if hundreds of unspoken words had poured over them like raindrops without even drenching them.

She couldn’t sleep that night. She imagined the figure of that man standing at her door, still gazing at her endlessly. She did not feel uneasy as if the figure had filled a void in that empty corner with its surreal presence. After a long time, she did not feel alone tonight.

He washed his face and looked up in the mirror. He didn’t see himself, instead he saw her in his own reflection. The droplets on the mirror reflected her face hundreds of times. He felt lost in eccentricity. The flickering light of bulb resembled his state of mind; in and out of light and darkness...light of reality and darkness of thoughts..!

Days and weeks slipped away in disbelief. Routine tasks of their lives overtook these surreal thoughts and memory of that rendezvous. And one day, while she was reading the local daily, her eyes froze on an image…it was him. She kept looking at his photograph and it took her a while to leap out of her thoughts and read the lines below, which mentioned his name-SAGAR. He was a fine artist and was exhibiting his latest work titled TANTRA in the local art-gallery this week. She was an art-enthusiast herself and would always handpick her visits thoughtfully...but this time, holding the hand of curiosity, she was already determined to visit his exhibition.

The monotony of blank white walls of the art-gallery was broken with the splash of bold colors in his art-works. The abstract theme of Tantra was interpreted mysteriously by him in oils and water-colors. The strokes of artist’s brush spoke aloud of his bold thoughts but gentle ways. She touched the canvas carefully and moved her fingers to feel the texture of dry colors. Suddenly she felt warmth of a human presence around herself and turned around to find him standing right behind her. She felt as if the deep red color of the art-work had flown out of canvas like a rivulet and had encircled the figure of this unknown man in the shape of a deep-red kurta, which he was wearing. He smiled at her and she smiled back.

“Tantra..what does that mean?”, she asked. Her voice echoed in the silence of that cold art-gallery and he felt mesmerized.                                                                                                                                                    

“You are the artist, right? Sagar?” she asked again, as he appeared numb.           

“I’m sorry. Yes, I am Sagar. And you must be Aura.” He answered as he gathered his fluttering thoughts.                                                                                                                                     

“Aura ? No, I guess you are mistaking me for someone else.” She said.                                                                         

He did not say anything else but he smiled. He knew it was her.

And the following few months, they devoted parts of their lives to each other exploring new corners of different cities, collecting souvenirs from across the country, meeting all kinds of new people, experiencing their reincarnation as each other, growing familiar with each others’ presence and essence. There was no naming of relations; no planning for future and no questions about past…it was like a cruise towards infinity. He started working on his new art-work titled 'Aura' and painted her as his muse in different avatars.

Until one day, when he disappeared. That morning, she walked into his make-shift studio in an adobe hut and found him missing. He did not leave behind any letter promising her of his return. She couldn’t sleep many nights after that...his figure was no more standing and staring there at her door. She was alone in that room again, with that empty void and silence.

Months later, she received a letter from him.

“Aura,

I met Aura, again. How, where, why...I can’t say. But she completes my existence. I was a blank canvas until I had met you and like a pencil, you engraved an outline to my abstract existence. You drew a figure and for the first time, I realized who and how I looked, felt and was. But something was missing, the colors...And I left in search of those missing colors to finish off this masterpiece…and on the way, I found her. She painted my life and my existence in her indelible colors and today, I feel complete.

Thank you for everything.

Sagar.”

Tears rolled down her eyes, dropped on the letter and the blue ink started flowing away with tears, disfiguring the words. She thought she was the only Aura in his life, his thoughts and his works…but just like a color-palette has many shades of every color, many shades of green, many reds...many yellows…maybe he sought many shades of Aura himself…for completing his masterpiece to perfection. Rays fell on the puddle of water outside her window and reflected many dancing colors on the blank wall of her room.