“How is she?” she asked me.
“I don’t know, I’m not in touch with her”, I replied.
“I don’t know. Fate, I guess”, I employed my simplest, and easiest escape route.
That was that. It was a simple, statement, made unwittingly, unknowingly. Her eyes fell down. She was thinking, yet she wasn’t. She isn’t that complicated, to analyse and dissect things, I know that for a fact.
But at that moment, there were tears flowing down her cheeks. She started crying, and unlike me, she made no fuss about it. She cried, openly, and in an uninhabited fashion.
I’m not normally all that expressive, yet, I ran up to her, almost involuntarily. I held her, tight against my bosom. She was sobbing, and it was beyond control. Few things in this world move me more, and so I felt like crying myself, and yet tried to hold back – for I wouldn’t want her to know I am crying.
“Don’t cry”, is all I could muster and tell her.
“I really hope you are not hurt.”
“You are someone who would not even share things with anybody. You don’t talk about things; you tend to just keep them to yourself. Somewhere I keep feeling that the entire episode has hurt you quite badly, probably left an indelible scar in your heart. That’s what scares me”
“You are right about one thing – I do find it difficult to talk about my feelings. But, I am someone who forgets. It may not be easy to believe me, but I tend to drop things quite easily. Don’t worry”
She hadn’t stopped crying, and was now crying even more in my embrace, her little figure wrapped in my arms. If she herself is small – physically I mean – she has got a heart larger than many I’ve known. It made me sad that she was crying. Yet, in that sadness, there was a certain joy, of being together. In her embrace, I felt that comfort that words can not possibly describe. And I was asking myself who among the two of us was really the child.