One morning , like the bliss of the omnipotent over the curtains in white , one peak into the window like a loved one looks in hesitant , one slow turning around to the better side of the bed and a big stretch to put it all in the effort for a rise and shine situation. There’s no alarm , just the constant chirping of the sparrows , just by the side of the window and the constant beat of the wind , gentle but noticeable. She puts of the blanket looks for something she’s supposed to near the door , moves to the window and in a sudden but slow release let’s the window open to all kinds of news it has to bring with itself , by singing through the wind-chime. Isn’t that how every perfect morning in every perfect story should be . Or not ! What is more merrier to a dancer on a stage , a standing ovation or a heart that understands the red beneath her heals. What brings an artist in the crowd more satisfaction , a masterpiece or a someone to understand the story behind it . What if there is none . Well that ain’t a good picture , that ain’t a masterpiece. But what if every picture did have a story . Could every picture be a masterpiece. What if every stage was not just a stage , what if it was more , what if it was something real. What if instead of the world being a stage , a stage became the world …..
Just as she could sign off the last piece of text on a green robed diary a screaming call comes from the floor beneath.
“Mrinal , breakfast ….”
Hearing distinct chatters and clicks of the door Mrinal turns over to the clock she dumped in the lower drawer.
“Shit , 7:30 “; she murmured to herself.
Packing her bag she packs up a couple of things , alongside some stationary , the green diary ,a pink file ..
“It’s late already , your uncle’s downstairs , he has work too , why didn’t you pack before.” , Her mom says entering the door .
“I didn’t see the time”, she replied in a low voice.
“Don’t you have a clock on the table ” , her mom asks , swinging her fingers by her daughter’s ears.
“It’s disturbing , i don’t like the sound of it” she murmures again.
Laughing at the innocence of her daughter she and Mrinal walk down the stairs closing the door behind them.
“Ahh if it isn’t the champion of the day” scream an middle aged man with silverlocks swinging along the little strands of black as if shadows of the silver.
“If i were a champion , i wouldn’t have chosen arts” , she replies with a smile and a big hug “I would have been a doctor or an Engineer instead”.
” Ahhhhh ! Those dorks , all they do is make something, break something , and then do all the yoddly stuff . Champions are those who do what they feel like , isn’t that right Shobha”
“Absolutely ” says smiling , her mother.
“Well i guess we are all good to go for the first day , aren’t we”
Mrinal nods and both of them walk out the door , and to the car
“So Mrinal what have you been writing?” Her uncle breaks the silence while driving.
“Nothing much just a little here and there ”
“You know what , I think you should write about places , things that help you get out , travel”
” I don’t like writing down places”
” Why so”
“Places aren’t meant to be written down . They change the change with time , lands to forrest , and forrest to barns , barns to villages , villages to towns , then Barren lands , then forest again. Places never be the same. Pictures are what capture the still in a moving frame , writing is what moves the monotony” she says looking out the window at the passing tress in a whizz.
“Well all that leaves are people , and people change there is no arguing that”
“On the contrary , I believe people never change”
“How so” , asks her uncle smirking
“Well they are all the same wherever you go , all doing the same thing that they were doing yesterday , and then one day they die and their sons and daughters do the same thing ”
“Well I see your point , but I would rather love to read about it” says her uncle as he parks in the campus’s parking lot . “Alright we’re here , do well and best of luck”
“Sure she answers , as she closes the door”
Walking into a new journey in new shoes , in a new zest was more or less a feeling she had expected , but crowd was the bigger deal . Not everyone enjoys being one in many , sometimes it’s the silence of isolation that brings people a sense of living.
She walks through the main gate in the crowd to reach the reception.
“Hi , I am here for the arts program , today is my first day”she speaks to the counter
“Hello there , can I see your files” , answers the receptionist.
“Sure” , Swiftly answers Mrinal with a smile as she digs into hr bad for the pink file . However to her amaze , there was nothing pink in that bag. It is only in minutes does she realises that she dropped it off the bag whilst packing.
“No no no no no ..”
“Is there a problem mam” asks receptionist.
“I will be back in a minute”, she replies.
“Well you better hurry ,the window closes in 25 minutes”
She runs out of the door to a corner , breathing heavily , with her face all sweat she dials up her mobile
“Hello maa , i i…
“What happened Mrinal?”
“I forgot the files in my room and it’s the first day and the window closes in 25 minutes i don’t know what to do”
“Calm down ….just take a deep breath , i will get to it” , and the sound of the line being cut as if dreads her like everything been torn apart.
Last year hasn’t been well for her . It was with great effort was she able to find this place , and she was scared to loose it. Waiting for someone or something to happen she kept tapping her feet , hearing to every little vibration or sound that surrounds her.
Suddenly a voice creaks at her back ,
“Hey Mrinal , I got your files , screams her uncle in distance”
She runs to him to grab the one thing she was afraid to loose but as she turns back to the rush , there is a red streak she missed that swings around her and into the bushes .
“Ah , hey watch it” screams the black haired tall one holding one of his elbow up in the air with his bicycle flung on top of him.
Little did time she had for it , little did she care for it , rather she runs , as the window for her is about to be closed.
“Here , I got it”
“Well let’s see what you have here” replies receptionist.
Taking a deep sigh of relief she as if heard something approaching.
“What happened , seriously..?”
“Nothing just some crazy one got in the way out of nowhere ”
“Did you see him”
“No I blacked out , but I think it was a she”
“Yeah well you should go get that wound looked”
Standing as still as she could be Mrinal listened to the two guys at her back, maybe she got away with one trouble , but I guess the play just started.
***********To be continued*************