I’m a painter, an artist by profession. I live in a cottage-like house in the town of Manali. This spacious and an almost perfect house was given to me in the form of ancestral love and heritage. Since my childhood I had been here and had gradually become fond of it. The mesmerizing atmosphere of Manali – its people, culture, weather and the natural surroundings – had done the charm on me. I had willingly surrendered myself to this way of life. Every morning when I got up from my bed, I would just look out my window and watch the town still half-asleep.
Love is an invincible thing. It conquers one and all seamlessly. I’m a romantic by heart but I have never truly felt the magic of love until one summer morning when I was gazing out of my window appreciating the beauty of nature.
I saw a young, sweet fair-looking woman in her 20’s standing in her room and looking out of the window, enjoying the purity and observing the brightness of the early morning sunshine. I could not see her clearly as she was fairly far away. But yes, I could somewhat look at her face which, in my guess, carried the smile of an angel. Every morning when I woke up I would immerse myself in the freshness of the morning and her divine beauty. Something within me drew me more and more towards her- emotionally and mentally. Sometimes, I wished that she would sit in front of me and let me sketch and paint a portrait of her. Many times, I felt she was observing me from the window, noticing me perhaps! But I didn’t mind that. I loved it instead. I had the longing to meet her sometime soon, very soon.
Since I’m a renowned artist of my town, I am invited to many social gatherings and exhibitions. I went to an exhibition few weeks back and to my surprise met the same woman I watched every morning. When my eyes fell on her, in a seemingly casual manner, I walked towards her. Without portraying myself as a self-declared lover, I stood in front of her and asked:
Me: Hey. How are you? I’m Ronny by the way.
The woman: I am Sara. This is my mother (she pointed to a woman beside her)
For the first time I was watching her from this close. She was stunningly gorgeous and had a polished English accent in her speech. Her wonderful smile took my breath away as she uttered the very first few words to me.
Me: I am an artist. Frankly speaking, you have got beautiful eyes. (I could not hold back myself)
Sara: Thank you. I wish I could see them myself.
Me: I’m sorry. What do you mean?
Sara: Oh you didn’t notice! You are not the first one though. I can’t see. That’s why my mother guides me everywhere.
Her mother smiled at me as she revealed this. I was taken aback.
Me: But how do you…
I turned quiet suddenly then. I realized I shouldn’t ask her what was in my mind.
Sara: Yeah. Go on.
Me: Nothing. I was asking… What do you do?
Sara: I’m an English Literature professor in a university here. Although, I have spent a substantial amount of time in Birmingham.
Me: Okay. That’s why you have got a distinct accent.
Sara: Yes. (She smiled)
We chatted for some time more and exchanged numbers later.
When I woke up the next morning, I watched her looking out of her room’s window again. Instead, she wasn’t looking. She was just sensing the morning chilly breeze. She was listening to the quietness of the place and smelling the newly-blossomed flowers of the season. She had never observed me from her window. She never even had a glimpse of me. Love is blind. In my case, it literally was! But I was happy. Simply, because I had a sweet memory to hold on to for the rest of my lifetime.