tales of Suchita

It was the time of night when the heat finally dissipated into the air above and the dying embers slowly turned to a cool breeze that sent shivers up the foot that had the misfortune of straying out of that cozy blanket.

Meera was sitting on the ledge in her bedroom, looking at the twinkling lights. The city was finally asleep. But she was awake, almost like a mother, keeping an eye on a babe. She refused to close her eyes and give into the seduction of the night breeze. There was no other time when she could feel this stillness and she wouldn’t waste it on sleep, no matter how desperately her eyes were begging her to close them…just for a minute…no a moment…just…one…

In that state of half alertness, half wakefulness, he came to her…gliding in through the barely open window, unconcerned that she was high atop the ivory tower – beautiful, unreachable yet perfect in her fragility.

Little words were spoken between Meera and him. But his presence would wash away the day’s dreariness and she was thankful. She wasn’t one to build castles in the sky despite owning one herself. She wasn’t one to give into fanciful dreams where she would be rescued from her ivory tower.

Meera did however acknowledge that she was human and needed relief from time to time. So she allowed herself this luxury – him – her nightly visitor who would lift the weight of the world from her shoulders.

Even if it was temporary relief, even if the weight would come crashing down once he left, even if the weight somehow felt heavier after that temporary relief, Meera accepted it – just like she accepted everything in her life – with poise and equanimity.

Had he been allowed to speak or impart a portion of his wisdom, he would have told her the futility of the exercise. But he soon realized that what she needed from him was not his words but his silence. What she needed from him was not his understanding, or encouragement or support.

The only thing she needed from him was his patience and silence.