Of Whispers on a Moonlit Terrace

        

"The words need not be loud... 

The gaze that lingers is serene 

The ferocity, the passion need not be doused...."

She stood at the end of the terrace. The moonlight had an enchanting effect on the entire scene, she added to its magnificence. Her hair flowed with the wind; she made no attempts to adjust them. I tried my best to muffle my footsteps. She was lost in the tepid gurgling of the stream which gushed at a halting pace tonight. Her fragrance lingered in the air, soothing me, sedating me. 

I continued walking towards her. She had no inkling of what I had done. The full moon exposed me today; the guilt had my conscience shamed to the abyss. My only solace lay in the fact that my being a fugitive from the laws of the land did not render me a fugitive for her and her feelings or that's what I consoled myself with. I had a bounty on my head but news travels slowly in these wild hinterlands. There were 35 outposts on my trail or perhaps more as conveyed by my acquaintances. 

For a moment I felt that the sound of my steps had betrayed my presence. She looked up, inadvertently my head trailed in that direction too. The clouds hid the moon and made me aware of the grim night that it was. She was mesmerized by the beauty of nature; I was enchanted by the beauty of herself. I was almost up to her now. My head wanted me to confess but my heart wanted this night to be as it was, unadulterated, unblemished. I put my arms around her. I expected her to be startled. She was calm. Loosening my grip around her she turned towards me, eyes closed. I expected her to say something, she had other plans. I met a gaze so deep that for a moment I was back to the night when she took my guitar that I was playing at the beach near a bonfire and led me into the freezing waters to say that she loved me like a fool. I wanted to look away now but the beauty of her eyes held me. 

"Four Hundred and Sixty-Eight days" she broke the silence, "Nine Hundred and Thirty-Six" I replied. She smiled and then quickly frowned. "Each day without me is worth just two?" she pushed me away "...and then you say that every moment without me is an atrocity of a lifetime" she continued with anger as superfluous as the distance she tried to etch. "I'm more of brawn you see, numbers were never my forte" I tried to pull her close. She came close, closer than we had been for more than a year now and I had the same sensation every time I felt her breath on my face. I looked at her and then whispered "If I never see you again, I'll always carry you inside-outside, on my fingertips and at brain edges and in centers of what I am of what remains" she smiled and then very cheekily whispered, "Don't befriend me, mister, be original...." I shook my head and continued in my sparse voice

"Befriending or not, I love you, you know that right?" She paused, looked away and then said: "Think how you love me, I don't always ask you to love me like this, but I ask you to remember, somewhere inside me there'll always be the person I am tonight." "That's me, ma'am..." I laughed out "...so much for originality" I held her tighter. "You haven't forgotten your books sir" she gave me a peck on my cheeks. "They are my second love".

The whispers were lost to give way to those moments whose absence had had me wretched, had me crying out of melancholy that had left me despondent up to now. "I am pretty much emotionally inept, I'm an egotist to the core, and I gloss over my weaknesses. I live in a make believe bubble where the world should bow to me. Yet you make me carefree and unbound. You unshackle me of my materialistic hubris. The center of the universe for me shifts to you" I said with the taste of her lips still lingering, its charm still leaving me in thrall, its addiction still driving me mad. "This is no quote from a book" she smiled albeit a shy one this time. "Oh it is, it's from the book called 'you', the verses are all there, my whispers simply carry them back to you." 

A silence prevailed as if we both wanted to say something but not without breaking the trance. For the entire time we stood in silence I felt the silver orb moving over our heads to behind my back. I could see her face lit up by the white light being splashed by the moon. The calmness signaled an incoming storm. "Do you want to say something.....?" I was cut short by her......."I know what you have done" she said all of a sudden with moistened eyes. She was on the verge of tears. She would never cry, she had been stronger than me throughout. I was taken aback. How did she know? Did they all know? Were there state spies even in the countryside? My instinct for survival overpowered the torrential storm of feelings on this moonlit terrace. I convulsed for a moment and then within an instance regained my composure. "You are safe," she said "....I don't understand politics and war but I hope whatever you are doing is right" she said with a determined effort to stop her tears. I did not know what to say. Should I ask her to wait for me until these days of uncertainties are over or should I simply walk away? Before I could say anything she said: "Leave now, I'll live and hopefully you'll do too, to walk up this terrace someday and sweep me off my feet with those whispers, as you did today." She rushed down the terrace leaving me alone, cold and bitter and hating the choices that I'd have to make when all I wanted to hear were those whispers on this moonlit terrace........