The Lost Thread

Dreams

The thing about mornings are that they come with bone chilling certainty. This is the thought that takes Maya through the night. Because every night he comes. No matter how much she keeps her mind empty before sleep, he invades. No sooner her eyes close, he comes uninvited. With the same half smile, same devil-may-care attitude, the same intense eyes. There is no escaping him in her dreams. 

Tonight her dreams have taken her into the caves. This is where he had first made love to her. She could almost feel the musty smell of moss and the damp of dripping water. As usual he is hidden in the shadows. She is carrying some food, which puts near the entrance and calls for him. He grabs her from behind and twirls her around. Happiness pierces her soul in million rays of sunlight. 

'You found me' she squeals.

She turns around to get a better look at him. Her heart stopped. Gone was the handsome man she loved. The man who stood in front of her was dripping mud, blood and water. His head was crushed, hands twisted, and a big, thick branch sticking out of his torso.

Maya wakes up gasping for air. She quickly reaches for the glass of water she never forgets to keep near the bed. She sits up and downs the water in one go. Her whole body is shaking, face covered in both tears and sweat. 

She dreaded the nights when her mind brings her worst fears into her dreams. She wants to remember Dhruv intact, without a single flaw, just like when she first saw him.  But her mind is cruel. It keeps tormenting her, reminding her of the price Dhruv had to pay to keep her alive.

Her eyes automatically went to the small figure sleeping beside her. She at least got to keep a little part of him. A little Dhruv. Kedar. A small priceless wonder who holds her whole existence in his little hands. She leaned down to take a peek. Small hands were gathered near a tiny face, a face of an angel. Her saviour, her repentance, her dream.

The sun was already making his presence known. In this tiny dwelling, mornings were the busiest times. The porters were getting ready to transport pilgrims up the steep mountain, to the Holy shire of Shiva. The hotels, the roadside stalls, the small shops, were all getting ready for the day.

Maya did not belong here. City bred, highly educated, beautiful and young, she would look more in place in a boardroom or fashion magazine. But she was here, clinging to memories and the last shreds of her sanity. The city would have destroyed her. But here, the harsh elements, and the rough life, made it easier to deal, deal with the pain that is slowly, laboriously eating her from inside. Her daily struggles were so exhausting, that her mind shuts down. The only person that soothes her, is Kedar. And her previous life had no place for him. So she cut off all her ties, and made her life here, in the small dwelling at the foot of the mountain where they say Gods live.