I pulled up the curtain after a long time. I forgot how lonely and cragged a street looked like without the hustle-bustle of daily traffic. I can see the neon light of a tall streetlight somewhere far, far away. There is a small tiny lake (I know you'll mock, but it is bigger than a pond) in front of my house. To satiate people's essential needs, shops have covered the clear view of the lake now. Where was I? Pardon me, I digress sometimes.
"Is it perfume from a dress
I stood close by the window looking at the street, it looks clean or is it an illusion? I can hear the tip-tap of footsteps nearby, a drunkard with no hurry in the world. Is he struggling to find his way back home? I wonder. I cannot see his shadow but tip-tap, tip-tap, tip-tap, he is moving. A bike whooshed by blowing away the dust of a now barely-used street. Disturbing.
Far away, my eyes catch something else. A glistening reflection on the water body - something mystical, something mythical. I stayed there looking at the reflection as if it were trying to tell me a story about an era bygone. I stood there. Still.
An unknown canine joined the forlorn street, mumbling his soliloquy without opening his mouth. He crouched, slouched, and finally looked around. He rested his head on his feet while yawning half-sleepily, thinking about food or who will join him in late-night shenanigans. Ah, fun.
I was observing the slow, slow movements of the reflection, still glistening as it was when the Muslims made the age-old cemetery where the birds were chirping like it was 4:00 am. How do the birds keep a track of time? Or the dogs? Or the cats? I have heard many people's stories how they did, they listened to factory sirens, temple bells, and what-not. I went back to the glistening reflection - again - it stood there as I want the time to stand still at the moment. I saw the dog gazing at the reflection or was it an illusion? A desolate street, a content dog, a calm lake. Oh, what a sight.
I pulled down the curtain, peaked outside from another window beside it. There is a 'but' just as every short story leaves you with an unsatisfactory ending. I cannot hear the tip-tap of the drunkard, my furry companion is not there, the reflection is gone.
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