There’s a tree,
Lining the shore of the sea,
In the shade of the palms of that tree,
Sits she
The dusk is still a distant affair. It’s a clear blue sky with a few white candy floss clouds lazily floating around; they are devoid of any ambition. She has a book beside her she’s carried along but she never reads it. Probably never will. She gazes into the horizon, lost, trying to find herself, resting her chin on her knees. She listens to the sound of the waves; they chant the same tune over and over again and the tune is in her head, the sea is in her head now.
The wind rustles the hem of her skirt; it’s pink. She looks lovely in pink; it blends with the hue the evening light has rendered to the sand beneath her feet; she becomes the shore. She isn’t wearing any shoes. She invents a game between her and the sea; she enjoys the playfulness of the waves as they try to reach her feet and then as if embarrassed, coyly retreat. She teases the retreating backwash ‘to touch me you’ll never succeed’ and yet yearns for the coolness against her feet. For once, she wants to lose and knows she will. ‘What if I turn into a mermaid’ she thinks and smiles, giving away a depression on her face she’d tried to hide. The breeze is somewhere there; she tries to eavesdrop on its conversation with the swaying leaves of the coconut tree she sits under. She used to appreciate their language once but now scowls at the incomprehensible and conspiring gibberish they speak. She can’t feel the breeze.
She realizes she hasn’t been like this in a long time. No thoughts, no errands, no responsibilities – her mind and heart are at peace. She stares ahead - Is that a ship in the distance on the horizon? The breeze and the tree are still at it. She glances at the book beside her, yawns and closes her eyes. She thinks of the story she’ll never read. What could it have been, she wonders. She is beginning to drowse but is brought out of her reverie. A wind, so strong, where did it come from? The sand rises in swirls, the sea hitherto calm has become a formidable force. A wave rises and forgets to fall. The sky, all of a sudden is a continuum of psychedelic hues.
She holds her hand to her eyes to keep the scattering sand away. But none of it touches her, she realizes. She’s puzzled. Her chin is still on her knees. But touched she is – by the wind. Her reverie is broken by a murmuring; the pages of the book are fluttering. And rising from the pages, brought to life are a multitude of colours, on exquisite wings they flutter. They recognize the song, they dance to the tune; they dance for her. Lost in the enigma, she knows not when the wave had reached her feet. She laughs and touches her feet to check if she’s been transformed into a mermaid and smirks as she knows she doesn’t need a tail to be one. She squints to look at the butterfly perched on her nose and tries to touch it but off it goes. It goes and carries everything along with it. The wind follows, the tall wave splashes without a sound, the sand lies immobile as if it was never disturbed. The book is closed. She looks up and wonders – there wouldn’t have been a sky in the dark without the stars.
She remembers she has to return, to the place where she belongs, and do all she has to do to make her future safe and strong. She gets up to leave; she is puzzled by the shoes on her feet. Had she worn them here, these white shoes, she muses, one of them looks marked. She can now see the sea only by the white splashes of the waves, by now they too are tired of the game. She says something to the wind and takes a last glance behind. She’s still sitting there but it’s not her. A smile forms on her face as she turns back her head. It was nice to know you, she says.
