(Continued from part 1) That’s what she had told him. But not until months later. She never could talk her mind out for the fear that crippled her. Her family’s conservatism had drugged her unknowingly and somehow she always found it hard to break free of the conventionality that had shackled her.
He had called her to Calcutta to join the magazine. But she knew long distance spelled fear for her parents. Her decline was not exactly what he had expected for her letters to him had drawn the picture of a passionate woman in pursuit of her one dream. She and her physical self had always betrayed her heart but her words never had; for it always stayed true to her heart and her beliefs no matter which way the world had dragged her.
She knew that her parents despised her decision to be a writer but she knew that they loved her and that a stern no from her would shatter their lives. It was not something she wanted and so she lived in fear or realizing the dreams in her – dreams of career, love and life.
He had once asked her about her dream. They were drinking, not that it was a habit for her. But he had asked her to do something wild that she had never done . They were friends then and had been arguing about her inability to pronounce the two letters N- O and also her self betrayal that shoved everything she wanted to be to the back of her priority list. He asked her to let her thoughts out. He said it would make her fear less. She had thought about kissing him to show him her hidden passion or to share the bottle of vodka that stood on the table. Juggling the chances, she chose the vodka which she thought would make her look less insane although she ended up doing both,eventhough not on the same day.
“Alcoholism wasn’t exactly my idea” he shrugged and fell back on the floor.
She watched him as the Vodka burnt its way down her throat, loving the weightlessness in her head. She had never liked anything that fizzed but that day it seemed to her that the blend was irritatingly sweet, just like his smile, amber eyes and his voice which always managed to quicken her heartbeat which she thought was absolutely frustrating to a woman who was trying hard not to fall in love. But there was a distinct sweetness to it that she secretly enjoyed.
“Everyone in this world is born with a dream. A cherished dream that they keep safe like a candle burning in their yearning hearts. Some let go of it in this complicated and confusing life and they take whatever that is thrown at them in the name of fate or rather their favourite excuse. Then there are stronger ones who fight and settle for nothing less than what they want and sooner or later they realize their dream, regretting nothing in their life. Their death content and satisfied. Then there are people like me who fight but not courageously enough that we snatch a tiny bit of what we want, and then act content even when the heart longs for what is there a bit away from us slowly dragged farther by doubts, family, time and pragmatism.
Her Life had become more beautiful with him. He was a wonderful Editor but to her he was more of a fantastic teacher. He realized the fear that held her back from everything she wanted. And he knew that all she needed was a little push to get her on the stage. Even when she doubted it, he believed that she would be alright once she was there.
“What are you afraid of?"
She rolled over to his side of the bed hugging and cuddling up to his warmth and the strange feeling of protection that she drew from him. He drew back, searched her face and her big wide eyes as if to find an answer to come alive in them. She pouted, smirked and rolled over again, digging her head into the pillows and muffling an answer to him
“What if I am not good enough? What if at one point I run out of words?”
He looked at her surprised for in that moment she appeared to him as someone who quite did not believe in her talent, in her gift of words and ideas. She thought that her words would desert her and then she wouldn’t have anything to write anymore. She was embarrassed to make mistakes. Moreover she was embarrassed to let that be known to the world – even to the closest friend of hers.
You have to learn from yourself; from around you and from within you.
He whispered and his kiss woke her senses as the sweet consolation of his lips washed over hers. She let herself go into the world of words rather she jumped into it and every week she wrote for his magazine always under the name of Fairy Queene. It was a disguise to keep her unknown from her family, to hide her passion from them, only if she had known how happy they would have been to see their daughter’s name on the leading daily.
Cont in part 3
