By Ragashree. R
As we go about our daily lives, we meet many people. Some of whom will become our spouses and some our dear friends. While some will remain as acquaintances and some whose numbers will stay undialed in our phone log. After some time you stop focusing on how you met that person and start focusing on why you continue to stay with them. Is it for money? For fame? For unpaid therapy? Or just to have more people to invite to your funeral. I haven’t yet found an answer for this.
After a series of casual chit chats and hangouts, you wish to get to know the person better. To try to figure out whether they offer a platonic friendship or a real relationship. In the process of getting to know each other better, you start asking the difficult questions to each other. And under rightful conditions you would want to answer them honestly.
For me the most daunting question of all would be - “What do you fear the most in life?”Now most of you would laugh at this question. Wondering if this is the intellectual extent up to which the person can ask a question. Later, not wanting to dismiss them, you would probably reply with - “I am terribly afraid of snakes”, “ I am scared of disappointing others”, “I am scared of losing a loved one.” Maybe you could replace the snake with another potentially freaky reptile.
But that isn’t the case for me. Whenever someone asks me a question, I like to answer their question with a high level of sincerity. I mull over all my options before replying. What am I the most afraid of ? Is it to see my bank account after a heavy shopping spree? Or to see how much I scored in my math exam? Or maybe it is being chased around the neighbourhood by a dog? No, the answer wasn’t as simple as that. After much contemplation I discovered the truth. I am most afraid of a particular pair of eyes. Not because I hate them, but rather I do not want to hurt them.
The colour of these eyes weren’t blue or green, they were a simple brown. Not like coffee brown or wood brown. Not like cocoa brown or like pinecone brown, rather they were brown like an old clock. A beautiful vintage brown clock which had rusted through time and age. Each layer of rust showcasing a story. They belonged to someone who had survived through life wanting to live more.They were the eyes of a dreamer as some would say.
As with each tick of the clock time passed on, the person had seen different phases of life. They had to sustain everything life threw at them and much more.The eyes weren’t perfectly brown, they had a hint of red in them. It was neither red from alcohol or drugs nor was it red with anger. They were red with acceptance, that some things in life will be left unresolved.
The eyes weren’t those of an infant - innocently enclosed from the fears of the harsh world. They weren’t those of a teenager - full of desire and energy to aspire more in life. They were the eyes of a person nearing the end.They weren’t the eyes of a royal who had all the power in the world. They weren’t the eyes of a businessman who had all the capital in the world. They weren’t the eyes of an artist who could collide the world of reality and fiction together. They weren’t the eyes of a devotee who had dedicated his life to The Lord. They weren’t the eyes of a nomad who had no permanence. They were not in search of revenge, rather had embraced the truth.
The eyes had built up walls bigger than The Great Wall of China, only this wall wasn’t made of bricks and cut stone blocks. They were built with the unshed tears and bricks of brutal truth. They weren’t built with the hard work of 800,000 workers rather the bitterness of one. The walls were so strong no one could budge them. No conqueror could tumble them down.
At last, to put an end to your curiosity, those eyes belonged to someone I see everyday of my life. They used to wake me up to go to school. They were the eyes of my first hero and probably my last. They are the eyes of a man who feels guilty for not being able to give me more. They are the eyes of a man who wishes for me to achieve all the success in the world. They are the eyes of a man who shields me when life gets hard. Sometimes they have bruised me. They have been my harshest critic. This pair of eyes belongs to my biggest supporter. And he is none other than my dear father.
By Ragashree. R
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