Glass House (March 21, 2005)

One hot and humid, lazy afternoon, two years before today…by the side of a forgotten, dust-laden road somewhere down south…a house of glass…I remember.

In the middle of that cluttered room you sat…that old guitar resting contentedly against your body. You were lightly strumming, plucking at the strings. The strains of a song, I still remember which, floating through that hot and humid air. And it sifted through, past the corridor, to the other room…where she was…and she was drawn to you…

As though in a trance, she followed…past the corridor, to where you were…sitting in the middle of that cluttered room with your old guitar…and I remember…how it became then. From the bongos, to the egg shakers…by the side of that forgotten, dust-laden road…outside the house of glass…it was music that flowed between the two of you. Through your fingers as you strummed your old guitar, past her lips as she sang in tune with you…within the words and laughter, over and under a few awkward moments, beyond every casual glimpse or glance, there was music…and it flowed…like a fine, silver string…and she was drawn to you…

I remember…one night, you ran with her in the rain…no umbrella, just your handkerchief, drying her off…do you remember? It was there, still.

A month’s worth…and like every song, it had to end. Do you remember, you rode with her on that last night. She wished the road would stretch on and on…but then you had to go…and I remember she was torn.

It was two years before today. She had carried on. You trudged along on your own path. There were times when your roads would cross, and though only fleetingly, a longing would pass…and for a brief moment it all comes back…and you both knew then, it was there, still…

And so I come to the now. How weeks and weeks ago, you came back to her…and, how, inspite of herself, she ushered you in. She was drawn to you again. Then, like two years before today, there was music once more…

…So, it is not without great wonderment that I close this chapter. For no sooner than when it began, you slip past her fingers for yet a second time… with nothing short of an explanation…nothing close to a promise…. And she is left wondering…hoping…for deep inside of her…I know…she is still drawn to you…

NB: Written March 21, 2005, it traces the beginnings and the abrupt end of an episode in my life. It's funny how inspite of the pain, hurt and confusion, when all's done and over with, you suddenly realize that, after some time, you CAN look back and just laugh at how silly and stupid you've been before.