Cracks in the forts

Orchha 2015

I live alone with my wife. This solitude is my choice because other people make me feel intimidated. There are rare exceptions, of course. This is about those exceptions. They are not many. Just one here and another there. That’s all.

Most people I come across look like impenetrable fortresses. They are solid people. They know how to handle situations, what to say and what not to, when to smile, and so on. I am infinitely clumsy in comparison. I feel awkward and out of place wherever there are people. Except a few people.

Those few exceptions are people with cracks in their fortresses. They look happy by and large but there is an undercurrent of sadness somewhere in the depth of their being which they don’t let others see. They don’t laugh boisterously. But they don’t weep either. They smile a lot. And you can see a shade of sorrow running along the contours of their smiles.

They are not the wind that bends the reeds; they are the breeze that caresses the blooms.

They are not the waves that rage in rising tides; they are the ripples that murmur in tender lakes.

They are ready to accompany you in the dark tunnel you are passing through.

They are not scared of the dark, your dark side. They are conscious of the darkness within them.

The gaping holes in your heart don’t terrify them; they let you see the cracks in their forts.

For copies, click here

xZx