Fascination and affection!

Priya walked past the lonely pavement in the early morning that very day. She had a plan, well; a plan that was in process from the past one year. Yes, the day had come when her plan was to get fulfilled. In hopes, in aspirations, she came and nearly wanted to hug that tree. The tree that stood tall but the tree that had its leaves cut, its branches were little in comparison to what she had left. For a moment after she could get hang of the situation, for what had become of that, once a tall tree, that had been; she felt bad. But, she knew, it was done most probably by the municipal department, or maybe because people in the residency colony would have got the tree in that shape, after considerable thought, in order to catch the sunlight. Yeah, in winters; that seam of sunlight, falling in rays is the best nourishment to the soul. It sounds so pleasant, she wondered, by herself!

Well, ya; the plan, was it? What. Oh, yeah; plan! She gave a pause, she breathed a breath of solace, yes, she was there; at last she was there, at the right place. A paper was her plan, and yes, was it also, her dream. A leaflet sized paper, that she had placed inside the tree's crevice, just to find it there when she was to return. Priya had left for Assam, from Agra, that was where she lived all her childhood. She had left for her job training base in Assam. When, she was about to leave, she had varied thoughts flashing in her mind. There was innocence striking in the first place, the connection with a place that had been the only place that she knew. Priya had never travelled much, other than going to school or to college and getting back home. Taking care of her old parents, she grew up; but when the thought of leaving them had come, she resisted at the forefront to think, how would it be, as a feeling to intake, to enhance in one's acceptance of what was to become of life. It was good, that she was at last getting a chance to explore a new place, in Assam.

So, she had finally returned from her training. Before going had she kept that paper, inside the little gap that could take the paper in. Inside, the wood; safe and secured for the time being. She wanted to know, what had become of that paper. Was it still in its bloom or faded, was it?  She wondered.

Priya searched for the paper and found little chits of paper, coming out as she tried to take the paper in her fingers. It was smeared, the paper had started rolling out, in pieces. The pieces that became smaller and smaller, until the bigger part of it came out as she searched for its reaches. Alas, one side of the paper was stick to the other side of it. She tried to peel it off, she failed at the first attempt. She understood the reason behind that sticky paper, that it had folded its bends, the manner she had folded it in, at the time it was initially inserted into the gap of the tree, to fit in finally. The paper had decomposed, was one question sequencing in her thoughtful aperture time and again. She understood or rather, comprehended her reasoning by saying that the rains that must have hit the city, would have led to such a fiasco. But, was it really a fiasco? Or wasn't it one? She mumbled to herself. What was this important in that paper, any agreement of any sort, with the tree to meet it again; was it? Ridicule it is, but yes, emotions are a form of ridicule at times, rather, subjected to ridicule when those emotions are tattered. She tried to peel it further but again and again, she would halt a breath. As to leave her attempt from furtherance to actually peel it off, or wait until she got enough strength to come in terms with what had attuned of her plan, become of it.

Priya had been a painter in her childhood. It was later on, that she took up to Military, to serve the society and also to earn her family, livelihood. She had been a strong girl, who took the responsibilities of her family. She had been sending her income from her Military base to her parents and had a housemaid, in charge to clear all the dust enveloped on the windows, walls and the fans. Even with the less income that she received, she made sure that her parents need not be troubled even for a minutest work. They were old, alone; living by themselves, having some relatives in the nearby locality. Otherwise, they were alone. Being the fourth child herself, Priya had well seen the ups and downs of life. From the time, her sisters had been married, three of them; till the time when her parents had to sell their only house to fulfil the dowry demands. She had seen it all, and in between that period, getting sentimental. At times, grief stricken, and at times jolly. Life moved alike a dancer's ring, moving three sixty, that it gave a lens to the eye to experience it all, as it came.

Similarly, it was a work of her art that was sitting lofted within that tree, far alone alike its maker, who gave life to it. Just the difference was, the paper curled up inside the tree, whereas, Priya, reached to attain her peace, to bring peace back home. In the gift of offerings, in the form of income and job security. This meant a lot, to the hopes and aspirations of those two people, who had given their everything, for their daughters. Priya was unmarried and didn't want to get married anytime sooner, as her parents often suggested otherwise. She had wanted to be with them, give them little for what they gave her, from love, to a hand of care and affection, in difficult times and in profound joys.

When she tried yet again to see the paper, if it would open without much loss to the sketch that was on the paper, she gave a sigh of confusion. As, she progressed further to her plan, she could see it from broader lens.The paper unfolded at last, it was brownish, but that was what she expected, wasn't it? It made her realize, that time had really moved and she had grown with the time. That she had grown well defined with the winds, the rainy showers. With the darkness and the light, that paper had grown, and that sketch had got, itself justified. Albeit, a little faded in appearance, still a beauty to be cherished forever and ever remained. She came in terms with life's one truth that very moment.

The truth that, there was no certainty in the world for the love of people, that they would remain there with us forever or not. Because, the preferences of people, may change with the time. It actually happened, that in much expectations, the sole loser was you, yourself. That, others took it all normal in their lives, their actions, all symbolized, justice; but when done by others accordingly, it was what gave pangs to feel and take in. She had seen relationships in life take many turns, but she knew, she had something that she could say, it's mine and shall always be. That paper, that sketch, the time she had been away from her home, she had wanted to see the life in her sketch that would remain for the world to see, and her world was she, herself. Her own world of dreams and fascination. That she could fancy, her sketch in her hearts of heart and move along, the roads that gave her determination to lead the life ahead. Being honest to herself and her work and to her love of painting. She had seen a beautiful and peaceful life with her parents and she respected that very well. That emotion, that feeling that now on, she was in Agra, her hometown; and was to leave for nowhere in the seen passage. Knowing this, she also gave a thought that as nothing was certain, even in next moment, there was no certainty for. She danced across the roads back to her home, she came back to meet her parents and lead her life forward with them. This was her story, the plan that got itself justified and bloomed, in its creativity, met its maker, its ruler, it was about that paper and the dreams attached to it. It was a story of her life, that enchanted numerable joys to cluster and to synthesize. The paper, the sketch somewhere portrayed her state of mind at the time when she was leaving, all those emotions that formed her at that stage came in front of her to not leave her ever again. But, like a comrade accompany her ever and forever.

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