Kate didn’t know what she wanted when she came back to her home town. A lot had changed, the old ice-cream parlour where she used to hang out with her girlfriends was now a spa, her favourite second-date movie theater had disappeared into a mall. Then she remembered that she had moved away from this place looking for spas and malls. Nothing was ever good enough for her. The hope for the warmth and nostalgia that she came craving for was turning into a shrill cry of despair. When the hard realization struck her, she wanted to cry out loud. Just stand in there and cry, in the middle of nowhere, just scream out loud. She craved for her old friends, the attention, the love and the security.

And BAM! The bitch got hit by a bus.

“When the lights went out, she knew she was going to be stabbed by the proverbial dagger.” – Photo courtesy Joshi Daniel

She curled up into the little nook by his side, kissed him on his shoulder. She wanted to wake him up, talk to him, laugh – like they used to, but she knew better. She knew he was too tired and she was worried – this wasn’t the man she fell in love with, she longed for him, the cute kid in glasses who used to make her laugh. When she looked at his tired old glasses on their nightstand, she felt even the glasses said the same thing – he has turned into someone else, a machine, a workaholic who never cared for his health or her. She involuntarily kept drawing circles with her finger on his hairy chest.

“What’s bothering you ?”, his deep calm voice startled her, he wasn’t sleeping after all. 

“I thought you were sleeping…”, she smiled at him. He did not open his eyes, but smiled back, like somehow he knew she was smiling at him.

“Its you, you’ve been working on this project days on end, you don’t eat, you don’t sleep, hell you don’t even brush your teeth…”, she just found a vent. 

“I thought it was because I wasn’t spending enough time with you…”, he chuckled. 

“Well, yeah…that too”, she knew that was why she was upset, but she also knew that telling him that would mean she was being selfish, and then she felt helpless, the man knew her inside out. 

“Ever heard of the Macbeth’s dagger ?” – he asked out of nowhere, that was unusual, even for him. Then without waiting for her answer, he went on, “Its from a Shakespeare’s play called Macbeth – Macbeth was the kings kinsman, that’s like a Noble man – his wife and him conspires and kill the king with a dagger for very selfish reasons. “

“Selfish reasons ? And what exactly is a dagger ?” – She was amused that he was talking, even though it was about things she wouldn’t normally prefer. 

He let out a silent laugh and then went on to maintain his silence for a while before he spoke again, “A dagger is like a sword, but small and handy but not too small to be a knife. Before Macbeth kills his king, he has this inner confrontation between his sense of freewill and predestination, eventually he submits to his baser urges and decides to follow the vision of a dagger that would eventually kill his king.” 

“Why are you telling me this now”, she had to ask.

“Because I am facing an inner confrontation and I am going to follow my baser urges”, he then turned over, dragged her onto his frame effortlessly, kissed her forehead. When the lights went out, she knew she was going to be stabbed by the proverbial dagger.  

We all wear a mask, infact several masks. Everyone. Every single day.  Sometimes we wear them so much, we forget who we really are. And then if you are lucky, very lucky, there will come along a person, who will take off your masks, show you the light, and tell you who you are. Who you should be. 

After many more winters, There will come a night,
A night you will feel brave enough, To walk down that memory lane.
And one last time, you will want to take a turn, with undeserving hope,
To the alley where we first met.
You will not find me there, or you, then who are you looking for ?
 
But if you stay long enough, you will see –
The blurred and long lost ghost of our pasts – yearning to laugh out loud.
If the winds of Time had swept away my footprints –  Do not linger,
Why do you want the slow wetness of loneliness, trickling down that once happy face ?
 
You have always found the Twilight romantic, But I’ve always been scared by it.
For, It does not remind me of the wonderful Night ahead,
But only of separation, of a tired Day.
 
And like the Day, I will wish you farewell.
But if only like the Night, you had wanted me to come back.
If only like the Night, you had opened the door of Dawn,
For that one last look, before you left me forever.