Krishna: This painting. It has so much to say. Who is she, Meera?
Meera: She? She is.. sensuous. She is poetic. She is lyrical. She is a dreamer. In an existential trance, she breathes romance. Paris. That is Paris pour elle. Amorous and vintage. Sitting there on satin sheets on an antique brass cot with a red rose in her hand, she feels intoxicated. But, it is neither the Cabernet red wine nor the breathtaking view of the city. She is overwhelmed. By him. That man. The one. The one who couldn’t stand to accept the daily demonstrative love she felt in herself, and give back as good as she gave. So she sits there. Being sensuous. Being romantic. Seeking passion. Seeking some sort of counterintuitive romance in love.
Krishna: What happens when he comprehends? Some day. The depth of what he left behind. What if he longs for it? What if his hours are filled with yearnings? A yearning for what he once had only indifference and passiveness? A yearning for homecoming.. into those very arms, in that very place, for that very hour? What if his entire subsequent life has been a road leading down to that one end? To the beginning. What if he realises what he had always sought for was what he once had? Will his quest be futile? Will his passage be denied?
What will she say? Will she say nothing? Will she say it at all? Will she wait till the moment passes, the light fades and the possibilities vanish?
Meera: She would take a deep breath and tell him, “Look just a little too hard at me. Stand just a little too close to me. Let’s go back and replay all our scenes. Did we ever really share? Did we just soliloquize? Was I ever really there? If I leave this sheltered space, will anything be there? A place in time still belongs to us. So, I will wait in my cage for you. You'll see a side of love you've never known.”
Krishna: Some things never change, do they Meera?. Even with the passing of years. Some things sadly do. He would have meant much to her once. Even after all these years he still seems to mean something to her. Did he take her world by storm? Was he the fulcrum around which her life revolved? What did he represent to her? What did he give her? What did he take with him when he left?
Meera: He had given her exactly what she had been meandering about looking for, that he was, at once, both the point and the purpose of her life, that he was, gloriously, it seemed to her, the answer! She wanted to believe in him, in his ability to transform her life for her, corral all those wild yearnings in her into something less wasteful, give her not just an appetite for the passion, but an exciting idea of it. She might be growing increasingly frustrated at his evasiveness about the romance she had in mind, hardening into a refusal to talk about it at all, but she still could not bring herself to walk away, to step bravely out into a life without him for the simple reason that such a life seemed too bleak and pointless even to contemplate. And now, when he finally comes along, is it sane to leave him with a half- hearted goodbye?
Krishna: I wonder.. Is it sane? Or are some doors closed forever? Do we outgrow certain people? Do we change, ever so gradually, until the love we had is just a mere sweet memory that has no place in the harsh light of reality?
Meera: *long pause* She tends to keep herself away from his goodbyes as she experiences an old familiar stirring, a growing restlessness that she dreads but recognizes only too well.
Krishna: Some things are best expressed via allegory, allusions or imagery. You speak in the language of images and words Meera. If people knew how to listen, they would understand what you have to say. That image was no random choice. It means something to you. It represents something to you. Maybe it is you. Maybe this tale is more than what it seems to be.
Meera: *deep silence*
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