She stood on the wide balcony, her back perched on the wall. She was crying secretly, while hiding her face. Lost, she was unaware of the onlookers. She was pretending to look busy looking out from the window, taking out her spectacles and wiping her tears in between.
My heart really moved to see her. I was so touched to see
tears rolling down her chubby cheeks, half covered with dupatta.
I don't know if she was sad, repenting or worried and troubled. Her hair were flying in the air
each time the breeze changed directions from the window.
Her face was moist, her eyes were red in grief and her eye
lashes were laden with little droplets. I wished I could extend my hands, reach out to her hands and comfort her.
And, I...I stood there, like a Eunuch, not been able to do anything
for this woman...in any way. I wish I could speak to her in her language and could reassure her that she could trust me.
I wish I could wipe her face and ask her to rest on my
shoulders and tell her that all will be fine, even when I knew it would bear nothing.
Sometimes, I really wish I could come out of my own body and
touch the woman I live in.
Why are souls confined to live inside the bodies forever...
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