Sometimes I wonder what it is all about. In the first few months of being exposed to the Indian way of life, to which I was sentenced three years (college term), I headed on thinking that my foundations and feminist principles were strong enough to hold me through.
Then, when the festive season broke the monotony of the classes and excitement colored the air, I saw the lone figure in black and white walking past me. I thought the color black suited him well and the Indian attire did him justice , for it was when I first noticed the curve of his chest muscles, the hollow of his neck, the sharp slant of his nose, his soft pink lips, and suddenly I felt a pang of girly-ness .
I wanted him to notice me not just as another person walking by, but to sense me, my feelings suddenly chaotic, and my walls collapsing to the ground.
I wanted him to feel the same towards me, as I had started to feel towards him, even though I couldn’t logically explain any of those emotions that were streaming through me.
It was crystal, that we were two entirely different worlds apart, that our worlds would never meet and yet the emotions raging inside me was hard to control which was driving me crazy.
I looked up to the heavens for an answer, for peace, for something to console my dilemma, to put my uneasiness to rest. As I looked up for answers, a cool wind blew that caressed my skin, and ruffled my hair. A stronger wind blew my hair into my eyes and in an attempt to clear my vision, I pushed the hair out of my face and opened my eyes.
There he was; standing, right in front of me, staring back at me with eyes that held some kind of emotion that I couldn’t understand, beckoning me towards him.
And as I walked towards him, slowly, let the drizzling rain drops in cue to the tantalizing breeze , my doubts, insecurities and all my beliefs about the in-existence of love, wash away with it .
And I let my feelings flow………….