"I bequeath my mind to the lanes of life where the ritual of silence stalk,
and no man shall ever tread....
for fear....takes nightly walks.."
A flicker of light on a dark surface, a face, a tree, blue skies. Everything captured upside down.
I wake up to the sound of thunder, a mid summer thunderstorm brewing in the sky. The breeze whistling through the leaves of the coconut trees. Drenched in sweat I reach out for the glass of water, to drown memories in the sublime taste of this clear liquid. Wandering through the dark halls I remember the laughter that echoes through the wandering lanes of my mind.
* * * *
It was the summer of 1943. The wind bringing with it the distant smells of a war that was raging through the continent. But we were hidden in a world where no war could penetrate. Maria. A breath of fresh air that would bring with it a thousand different smells, different everyday. And her voice, her voice was my light as it guided me through every shape and color and expression in this world.
Imagine describing a strawberry to a person with his eyes closed. Someone who had never seen the fruit before. My maria would have told him how it tasted even before he had the chance to touch it. She created the world around me with her astute sense of observation. The small things that one tends to forget, she would remember to tell me.
Her words were the foundations of my world and without them I would be able to carry on for a single day.
* * * *
The first thing I saw were the blue curtains blowing in the breeze and clear skies beyond. I had asked them to leave my by the window when it was time. I wished to see the beauty as my maria had described it to me and not the dull white plastered walls and the bed.
I would give everything back just to have her here with me now. But that is the irony of the situation. I was viewing the world through here eyes.....seeing all that she would have described in her sweet voice.
* * * *
"Uncle Johnny! Can I ask you a question?"
"Yes maria, what is bothering you?"
"Does one ever get tired of living and feel like going to god?"
I was shocked that an eight-year-old girl could read my mind. That was what I had been thinking about the past few days. A blind man who had no responsibilities and no will to continue the journey of life.
I felt her soft hands hold mine and could feel the puzzled smile with which she would be looking up at me
"No maria, how can anyone get tired of living when you are around to help them out."
" Daddy says I am an Angel, is it true?"
"Oh yes, you are my angel!"
I give her this crooked grin of mine that has made many a man turn around and walk away, but I know that this little girl could never imagine that I was anything but sincere.
"Then where are my wings? I have no wings. How can I fly to ones who call out to me when they need me?"
"your heart has wings my little girl, you don't need wings. All you have to do is close your eyes and pray and their calls will be heard."
* * * *
It's weird to see through the eyes of a different person. In fact its weird to see things, the light seems too bright and the sounds still are loud. You still try to feel your way around the rooms and the riot of colors is so overwhelming that you just want to close your eyes and go back to the darkness.
Its cruel how a life can be blown out in a second, just like a candle. Maria, the light of my life. Gone in a flash. The doctors gave all kinds of fancy names but Christie told me it was her heart. Her heart had stopped beating
* * * *
I look at the phototgraph taken with her on a swing. Brown hair flowing with the sea breeze and her dark eyes smiling at the camera.
How in just a second can one capture the essence of a person?
how can a smile be understood by just looking at it on a piece of paper?
How can time be frozen for eternity?
how a heart is broken by perfidity....
