Long Thaw

The frozen pond.










Anxiously, she paced around in her room as a myriad of thoughts bubbled up in her head. Slowly, with her feet starting to hurt, she settled on the couch near the window to peer outside. The soft drizzle of the rainfall was a mesmerizing sight to behold, and the patter sounded pleasant. Her breath was heavy and her eyes were swollen because of the incessant weeping. And the reason behind the emotional outburst was the way she'd been treated last night. But then, to think of it, this hadn't been the first time. It had become a part of her life now. Being showered with abusive and hurtful language, and being ignored as though her existence was of no value, had become a kind of routine now. Though she had everything that could be called luxurious and comfortable, her very existence was a suffering. Her life seemed like a broken piece of glass, which was cutting its way into her emotions and feelings, making her soul bleed. She always wondered, that though she never tried to hurt others nor did she ever force her choices and decisions or made them feel unimportant, why was she subjected to all this. And the worst thing was, that these so called others were her own people. Her own family members. She knew it well, that she would never have accepted such cold and distressing behaviour from strangers and would have given such people a piece of her mind, cause that is how she was. Or maybe, how she used to be at one point of time. But today, when she thought of her situation, she was hurt beyond limit, as the people hurting her were the ones she loved the most. 




Looking around, her gaze lingered upon the painting of a frozen pond, hanging just above her bed. It was a beautiful painting, she had created. A frozen pond with no life. She had painted this marvellous portrait during one of such times, when she had been made to feel insignificant and trivial by her family. The painting perfectly delineated her state of mind and life. She asked herself, if she was able to draw this because that is how she felt. Maybe yes. Even she was like a frozen pond with no sight of any life. The pond was depicting worthlessness since it was frozen so no one needed it at that point of time. But it was there. It was still there. Just like her position and place in the family. Whether she was there or not there, didn't make much of a difference to anyone. Yes, she was exactly like the painting of the frozen pond. Her eyes welled up. 




Then a thought crossed her mind. Was she feeling sorry for herself? Was she feeling like a victim? Yes, of course yes. But then, what was wrong in that? She was a victim of her circumstances and other's conduct. She was a sufferer indeed. And there was nothing wrong in acknowledging that. She knew that for the outside world, she was wearing a false mask on her face, showcasing a fake persona of a happy woman. But inside, she was enduring agony. Her husband, whom she had always supported and loved unconditionally, treated her like a piece of furniture, lying in a corner collecting dust and dirt. Her children treated her like a good for nothing liability, like someone from medieval times, having some antiquated thought process. Her friends ignored her most of the times, and talked to her only when they needed her help or assistance. Egocentric bunch of selfish people. And then, she asked herself, why did she give so much of importance to such people? No doubt, she loved them and cared for them, but she needed to give some importance to her own self as well. She needed to clean the grime, piled upon the surface of her self-respect and self-confidence. 




She recalled the time, when she decided to get married to the man her family chose for her. She wasn't in favour of leaving her studies, but ultimately gave in to the choice, her family made for her. She was a good student, a very good painter, a good singer. She was good in everything. If she had tried her bit, she would've done wonders for herself. But she sacrificed her dreams. She strangled the very aspirations, that bloomed in her heart at some point of time. What for? For these people in her family, who didn't care for her feelings and emotions anymore. Was it too late to discover herself and do something to realise the dreams, she had at some point of time, which she had hidden behind the closet of duties and responsibilities? 




She was engrossed in her thoughts, and suddenly there was a ring on the phone. She got startled a bit, then gathering herself, she picked up the phone. The sound coming from the other side was quite feeble. She couldn't make out what the other person was saying. After trying her best to understand, she hung up the phone. After a minute or two, there was another call. She picked up the phone. This time, the voice was audible. There was someone from an art museum in Paris. Though the man on the phone was talking in English, the pronunciation was a bit of a problem. Still, she tried to communicate. The other person asked her, if she had painted, "The dreamy eyes". She was surprised. Yes, she had painted that painting and had donated it to an old age home, just across the street. That was a place, she used to visit sometimes, and used to interact with people living there. Though she wasn't their age, she connected well with them, maybe because of their condition and the attitude of their loved ones towards them. She could relate to them and their lives. She heard the same voice again, and she came out of her thoughts. Though she was a bit lost in her thoughts, she wanted to know why the man was asking about that particular painting. She answered in affirmative. She asked him for the reason behind his probing. He told her that the painting had been auctioned online by the old age home, so as to collect some more funds for the institution, and that their museum had bought the painting. As they were getting a phenomenal response from people who were visiting the museum, they inquired with the old age home, so as to know about the painter. She was listening to everything patiently. This was the first time, after many years, that something good was falling on her ears, about herself and her soulful passion. He asked her if she could paint some more paintings for their art exhibition which was going to be held in three months time, and she could sell some of her old paintings as well. She couldn't believe her ears. Was she getting another chance to fulfill her dreams? Was life being a little understanding and supportive after so many years? She looked at the frozen pond painting again. Maybe, this was her calling, which she deliberately put on the back burner for such a long time. He further told her that she will be given a full expenses paid trip to Paris, so as to attend the exhibition. Now she knew what she needed to do. She gave the person, her email id, and asked him to send all the details on mail. After finishing her talk, she put the phone down. 




Her eyes lit up with excitement before her lips could gleam into a smile. Now she knew what she wanted to do. She understood her soul's calling. And the frozen pond painting wasn't so lifeless anymore. There was life emerging from it. 

There was life emerging within her. 




NEHA SHARMA 🌷










Photo credit-
Albrecht Fietz