While commotion raged within the house, he sat on the verandah staring into the skies’ nothingness. Why would it have to be him who had to let go, he thought, seemingly trying to evade the inevitable.
The sound of her anklets awoke him to her presence beside him. Her feet stuck out of the embroidered sari as she knelt down in front of his chair. The bangles in her hand chimed as she effortlessly turned his chin to face her twinkling eyes. He looked into her eyes with longing and she gave back an assuring smile in reply. However, he could see the sorrow that lay beyond her smile, for, there he was, right in front of her – painting her mask.
He imagined her walking away from him. Slowly. Gently. Further and further away. She seemed to take away with her, everything that he could call his. Everything but one – a heavy heart which would henceforth just hold memories – of him, of her, of each other and of their masks.
She jolted his lap, stronger this time, persuading him to halt his imagination.
“Cheer up now papa. I’ll be there for you, anytime. You know that.” She said, winking at him and drawing him close into one tight hug.
Kissing her on her forehead, and cupping his right palm on her head, he blessed her. Leaning back on his chair, he sat there watching her walk away, only to become his neighbour’s wife.
P.S.: You can read the entire "She" post here.