Dry Happy Eyes

Dry Happy Eyes

It was very bright outside the room. But inside it was dark.

She was sitting in a corner. Though it didn't make any difference as the darkness had blurred the difference between center and corners. She was crying. With her face drowned into her arms. Her eyes were closed. But tears were leaking from around the eyelids, betraying the eyes and dripping down the eyelashes. One tear every second... every second that passed by... With every passed second she knew that she was losing something. Something more meaningful than the tears, something more vivid than the tears.

Perhaps she was trying to wash away the memories she had. All of them. The frocks her father brought for her. Nothing for anyone else. He always brought things only for her. And all the others went jealous of her. The sweaters her mother made for her. Exclusively for her. Not to be shared by anyone else. The hailstones. The songs of MLTR.

Where have those days gone? Where has the childhood gone? Where has the tender youth gone?

Perhaps she was trying to wash away the dreams she had. All of them. The fairytale wedding. The prince of her dreams who would come into her life with an eternal smile on his face, instilling a similar smile on her face.

Why does this have to happen? Why this way? Was I wrong at getting tired of running? But what should have I run for? I was not allowed to run too far. I wasn't allowed to run into a neverland. Where things could have been green, bright and happy with eternal smiles all around.

She was never asked if she was ready for the marriage. People had tried to convince her why the marriage wasn't bad. Why the groom wasn't bad.

Is a not bad always a good?

You couldn't have got a groom better than him.

Well... maybe...

She had been given 2 months to decide on the only option she had to choose from. Perhaps in those two months she wanted to cry away all the tears her eyes could ever produce.

And after 60 multiplied by 24 multiplied by 3600 drops of tears...

It was the day of her marriage. And she was smiling. A well practiced smile. She had practiced streching all the required muscles in past 2 months. Adequate enough to produce a smile. The eyes were completely expressionless in the absence of tears.

There was happiness all around. A happy father who had stopped looking into those eyes long back. Perhaps the day she had grown enough not to fit into the frocks. A happy though concerned mother who herself was helplessly tied up in her world and had forgotten how to think. Lots of other people dancing, enjoying and happy.

Years passed by. Some happy years. Well its not wrong to manipulate the meaning of term happiness. To many, its the existence of this term what matters, no matter what meaning it carries.

She's happy. She's been happy all these days. Choosing all her words carefully, with emphasis on the happy and cheerful words.

And yet there are times when she steals some dreams from that abandoned area of her mind. And she closes her eyes, to walk through those lush green streets of those dreams. No she doesn't long for them, she just walks through them. She opens her arms to embrace those hailstones which she can't feel anymore. Which she can't hold anymore. She still plays the songs of MLTR in her player. But she doesn't sing along. She has forgotten the words.

She thinks things could have been different. She just had to run a bit more. Things could have been different. The world just had to be honest. The destiny just had to be honest.

She doesn't cry. Perhaps crying could have made her feel lighter. But she can't cry.

Its been years since her tears dried.

P.S.: Inspired by a post in some blog in blogsphere. There's been a lot of times when I have claimed that women are not more mature than men.

I think I've been wrong.