Gift of a Conversation

Monday evening, after negotiating the chaotic work place smoothly, on my walk back home, I started to cry. It was one of my numerous depression attacks. Feeling low had been my second nature these days.

I called her immediately. She seemed busy. I couldn’t conjure any words to her hurried inquiries; only few seconds of silence transpired between us.

I sat on the couch in my hall trying to ebb the rush of negative emotions. No room for love, happiness and humour.

She arrived and rushed me into her arms.
‘Sometimes Shiv, you are too hard on yourself. You need to learn to relax. Stop phasing out like this.’

‘I do not know what makes me low. There are so many unburied issues of the past that keep pulling me down.’

Cradling my head, she began patting me lightly.
‘ I am there with you to create new issues. Why worry about the past then?’ She retorted with a chuckle.

I managed a wry smile. ‘Thanks for being there for me’

She got irked by my line. ‘What would you do if I suddenly disappear?

‘Go back to my cocoon, stay depressed for a while, indulge in work 24*7 and make myself busy enough to forget life’. My eyes had welled up again

She pulled me face closer and looked deep into my eyes.
‘Life is not to be forgotten, its to be created and enjoyed. Why do you get attached so much? Why do you stop loving yourself?.
I am just an extension of what you love. The moment you stop paying heed to your feelings, I am too going to be torn apart from your heart.
Do you love me?’

I moved closer and kissed her.
‘The greatest gift you have given me is this conversation’

She continued to pat me on the back which made me feel drowsy. Like a mother , she started singing an old lullaby to put me to sleep.

As I drifted slowly into a peaceful sleep, I could feel her warm tears brushing my cheeks.
And the warmth of her heart soothing my heart.

Viché

(Part 3)

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