“Its not the end of the world!”, said a wise man, looking at a woman in despair. The woman looked up, still startled and gloomy and replied back, “What does the world mean to you? Whatever it does, its not the same for me.”

The wise man quickly caught up with the conundrum in the woman’s mind and grabbed her hand to console her. “I believe I am compelled to say, I know how you mean. The truth is, I don’t. I can never be in your shoes and look through your perspectives. I am sure your world has been shattered for reasons that you want to refrain from discussing as they hurt you and leave you in the state you are now. I will act as the all-positive-enlightened guru and preach that, “From suffering, comes comfort”. All that you have given to this world, will turn around and come back to you. If you have given genuine love, and care, it will come back to you;  the unknown is the form in which you will receive it. In such a case, not expecting the fruits of your actions and roles that you have played until now and to go on playing the role you desire truly, is the best thing to do.”

The woman listened ardently, sniffed a bit, swallowed the well of tears that had just filled her heart and said, “I acted my part, I was truthful to myself. I expected sincere returns but suffered. I listened to the world and then I gave up expecting, but my conscience that cared and loved, couldn’t do it halfheartedly.  I wished for genuine care and love in return without the hopes of a “forever” clause. I prepared myself to give up the “forever” part but alas, i failed in conveying my heart out. I lost. A lot of words and heart-aches had been exchanged in this saga by now and hence there was no uplifting strand left.  The only prayer left was to hope that the heart still has a small corner of affection left.”

The wise man was on his toes by now, it was almost that he had gotten a window into this woman’s bruised self. He felt sympathetic but didn’t want to show it.  He wanted her to let her heart ache and maybe emerge as a stronger being. He wished for all this and much more as he looked down upon her beautiful self, her face covered by her hands as she tried hard to hide the pain but her sniffles and persistent gasps for breath were more than enough to convey the story. As she gathered some courage to unveil her face, her beautiful black eyes shone like sparkled rain drops in the afternoon sun as we sat down on the bench near the wetlands. They were red too as been mulled rapidly by a giant fist. Her eye liner had sent streams of black-gray pathways across her flustered pink cheeks and her forehead, lined with unkempt hair, screamed of anguish and tiredness. She was a wreck by all means, but a strong woman heart that she had, she had managed to gather herself and pose in front of this wise-y, waiting for him to give her more of his “guru-gyan”.

The wise man couldn’t believe himself, his words seem to flow but stuck in his throat. His actions seem to cajole her but taking a step back. She was vulnerable  and all she ever seemed to want was a genuine hug from her loved one, that would repair her damages, a hug that would last as much a time she needed to get a hold of her life and accept that the bonds we make are forever but the moments in life are not. The woman had started to talk again, now, not covering her face, but with gated breath, of how she hoped, her genuineness would bring her friend back to her, since she had heart-felt her feelings towards that friend. The wise man heard nothing, but her lips moving, her in-between nods and head turns. He seemed to not hear the noise of the traffic around, the screeching geese around the lake and neither the beats of his heart. He felt much more overwhelmed at her plight than she did, in that very moment.

By now, the woman seemed exhausted, she seemed to loathe everything around her, but still bore that heart filled with affection. She was conflicted. She was sad. She was hurt. She knew she had a bright life ahead and she was wise to make it happen for herself. She only hoped for the care to walk her through it. She was attached to it more than she ever knew.

The wise man took her by her arms and shook her hard. “Listen”, he said. “I cant even imagine to fathom the depth of your sorrow. I am glad you have realized the  truth within you and what matters to you, the limitations around it and that you are accountable for your own life. I sincerely pray that the friend you are waiting for, is hearing your heart beats via this universal channel we share as humans. I maybe cant make you feel as you would in that hug, but here, I will hug you now.” Saying that, the wise man gave the woman a big bear hug, almost hoping to squeeze out all her pain and hoping from the bottom of his heart, to give all his well-being vibes to her.

The woman tore herself apart, she wept as if there was no end, she stopped until she could no longer harness anymore tears.  The wise man now seemed to see through her version of the world and how and what it meant to her. He shifted the hair falling so lame on her face, wiped her face with a brush of his fingers and gave her a rejuvenating nod. “You, okay?”, he asked. She couldn’t reply but her silence was much more verbose than a 1000-word essay. He continued, “Believe in yourself. Believe in love. You are giving. You are gorgeous at heart and body. You cant cause any hurt. You have gotten your share of being hurt, you don’t deserve more. If there is truth and solidarity in this world, you will be able to feel good, all the things and people that mean so much to you, will return. Just don’t expect them to be in the same state as you wish them to be and I know you have accepted that change already. But do speak to them about this change, if given a chance. I am sure they will be more than happy to be there for you, if you give them, a bit of space and time. You are much loved.”

The woman and the wise man exchanged a final nod, arms around each other, they walked away from the spot that had been, now, etched in time.