I had no words to explain my misery. I was questioning her eyes for their dereliction and she was calmly sitting on the wooden chair, the beautiful florist in immaculate white. I heard somebody approaching. The sound of the footsteps adverted us. She was my friend’s mother. I was meeting her after a long time. I still remember that I last met her some five years back when I came to Mussorie with my friend, Sameer, the groom tonight, during the winter vacations. Me and Sameer were best pals since our college days and graduated in same profession, though our subject interest differs. Sameer had a specialization in fashion photography and I graduated with expertise in Fine art photography. Since we graduated we met many times though the geographical distances between us were more than thousand kilometers, as Sameer was in Mumbai and I was stay put at Bangalore since then.
His Mother still looks the same, ageless and beautiful. Time failed to put wrinkles on her face. I bent down to touch her feet to take her blessings. She felt very happy to see me there as I was absent in her daughter’s marriage last December for which she complains every time I meet her. She asked me when I came here and where I was staying? And the moment I said yesterday and I am staying in hotel, she blasted off on me. It was my mistake. Either I shouldn’t have told her or I should have stayed at Sameer’s house. I apologized to her but she was not ready to listen me. Suddenly her eyes rested on the florist. She was delighted to see her there. The expressions on her face revealed that she knew her. I can very well read the expressions since they really matter in my style of photography. But I still regret that I failed pathetically yesterday night to read her’s.
And yes, I was right. She knew her. She passed a compassionate smile to the florist and said “Oh Drishti beta, I was waiting for you to be here. I am delighted that you are here.”
“Drishti”, what the hell?? Who gave her that name, I asked myself. “The silence whistles”, that’s was her name analogous to. But, truly speaking whatever would have been a reason of naming here “Drishti” but the appellation was not wrong though it was an oxymoron. Have you ever woken up at the time of sunrise when the sun changes its shades from deep brownish orange to brighter orange, and somewhere between all these shades lay the shade of her eyes. But those eyes were spurious. They had luster but not were not lustrous.
“Hey Abhigyan, meet her. She is Drishti, our gardener’s daughter and our daughter too. Her father is no more and she stays with her grandfather now”, Sameer’s mother said to me.
“Oh Ya. I met her. And she is beautiful” , I said. “Ya she is”, she acceded, “ But god has not given her the privilege to see and admire this beautiful world and herself” , she said with despair. “Anyways she is going to be with us tonight to enjoy the event”
She requested the old man and said “Baba, Please leave her here for tonight. We will take care of her and will drop her home by tomorrow morning”. The old man in his low pitched voice murmured, “ Maalkin, she is your daughter and I am just a caretaker, I am too old to take care of hers even. You can keep her here with you”.
Mom expressed her gratitude and said “Thanks Baba”. I could able to figure out the silent smile on her face, the florist was happy and so I was after hearing those conversations. So finally she is going to be here tonight. (to be continued…)
His Mother still looks the same, ageless and beautiful. Time failed to put wrinkles on her face. I bent down to touch her feet to take her blessings. She felt very happy to see me there as I was absent in her daughter’s marriage last December for which she complains every time I meet her. She asked me when I came here and where I was staying? And the moment I said yesterday and I am staying in hotel, she blasted off on me. It was my mistake. Either I shouldn’t have told her or I should have stayed at Sameer’s house. I apologized to her but she was not ready to listen me. Suddenly her eyes rested on the florist. She was delighted to see her there. The expressions on her face revealed that she knew her. I can very well read the expressions since they really matter in my style of photography. But I still regret that I failed pathetically yesterday night to read her’s.
And yes, I was right. She knew her. She passed a compassionate smile to the florist and said “Oh Drishti beta, I was waiting for you to be here. I am delighted that you are here.”
“Drishti”, what the hell?? Who gave her that name, I asked myself. “The silence whistles”, that’s was her name analogous to. But, truly speaking whatever would have been a reason of naming here “Drishti” but the appellation was not wrong though it was an oxymoron. Have you ever woken up at the time of sunrise when the sun changes its shades from deep brownish orange to brighter orange, and somewhere between all these shades lay the shade of her eyes. But those eyes were spurious. They had luster but not were not lustrous.
“Hey Abhigyan, meet her. She is Drishti, our gardener’s daughter and our daughter too. Her father is no more and she stays with her grandfather now”, Sameer’s mother said to me.
“Oh Ya. I met her. And she is beautiful” , I said. “Ya she is”, she acceded, “ But god has not given her the privilege to see and admire this beautiful world and herself” , she said with despair. “Anyways she is going to be with us tonight to enjoy the event”
She requested the old man and said “Baba, Please leave her here for tonight. We will take care of her and will drop her home by tomorrow morning”. The old man in his low pitched voice murmured, “ Maalkin, she is your daughter and I am just a caretaker, I am too old to take care of hers even. You can keep her here with you”.
Mom expressed her gratitude and said “Thanks Baba”. I could able to figure out the silent smile on her face, the florist was happy and so I was after hearing those conversations. So finally she is going to be here tonight. (to be continued…)
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