Ohh wait!It seems like that it was just a mirage. The ones which you mostly come across while crossing a desert. Your parched throat keeps on walking towards it, but it still keeps on walking away from you. His appearance at the doorstep of The Red House, that day, was like a mirage too. The one which would go away with time.
As it sang with joy ,immune to the reality of the situation, its yellow walls look brighter than usual. Isn’t this the moment it had waited for eons. Somehow it wants to convey all of it to him. As it cries with joy it wonders, does words reach his ears? maybe they do and thatswhy he gives a smile, which uplifts his face in bright cheerful tones, reflecting the yellows of the wall.
Obvious to the ripples he had created, he stays on with an intention to leave soon. Though somewhere he can feel the warmth in the house, which he had never felt earlier at any place. A sudden wild feeling urges him to make this his permanent destination, but he knows he cannot afford to lose. He has a certain set of intentions and goals, which require him to walk on. He is bone-tired and has been walking for long, the warmth of the house is too tempting. The House can observe that he is literally raging a war with his own self. He is trying to give justifications, reasons, and arguments to his own reflection. He goes to the mirror stares at it, mumbles and comes back raking a hand in his hair.
As he struggles between the thoughts, he falls into a deep sleep. The house appears to be singing a lullaby for him.
Some sort of peace has assailed…..
None of them know what morning holds for them…..but there is surely going to be a morning both know!!....
P.S. An old post from 2008
