Girl by the window

The concert hall was filled with old, retired people. From the last row, I could see different shades of gray. There was a smattering of young lustrous scalps, since some from the audience needed assistance to reach the concert. A wheelchair stood in the corner and many four-legged walking sticks lined the aisles. The singer was an old man too, who sang old songs from an old notebook with yellowing pages.

In this geriatric ambiance, the only thing that was young and supple was the rich voice of the singer. Every note fathomed depth of the melody, indicating a lifetime of training and dedicated practice. ‘He has been suffering from cancer’, someone whispered to me.

The singer began singing a song by Tagore describing a young woman sitting by the window, her head resting on her palm, with flowers and an incomplete garland in her lap. The imagery was vivid and the melody hauntingly pleasant. Graying heads moved gently, while some remained dreamily still as if transported to some place in their own personal history.

It was time for the last song. Notes of the raag Bhairavi, created the sense of sweet agony one feels at the end of a beautiful concert.

The song was over. People shuffled back to their feet as if waking up from a dream. Cotton sarees rustled, walking sticks rattled. Familiar faces were spotted, smiles and hugs were exchanged, and news of grand-children and faraway offsprings were shared.

I sat looking at the crowd. A woman was hobbling down the aisle. She had curly hair with generous amount of kumkum in the parting, loudly declaring existence of a living husband. One part of her body was paralyzed and fingers of her hand were upturned awkwardly. A side of her lips was drooping down, making it difficult to gauge her mood. For a moment, I remembered the girl from the song, sitting by the window with flowers in her lap. Could this woman have had a moment like that song in her life? Would she have waited for her beloved looking at the Bakul flowers strewn in her backyard? What songs would have been hummed by those drooping lips? What ecstatic bliss would have been experienced by her now paralyzed body?

Cars started arriving at the porch. People were helped into their cars. Steel watchstraps and golden bangles glinted in the dark while they waved and reminded each other of the next concert.

Please Comment and Follow! 😀😀😀