The Mocked Bird

When we are divided in the ecstasy of passion

Beyond the division of our souls

Though we endow the act of love with every power of imagination and poetry

It remains the act of two divided solitary beings.

We are mocked like two birds seeking each other through the glass pane.

- H.R

Stepping down the Chevrolet, I made my way to the marriage hall in Malleswaram. It was the first time I was attending a marriage uninvited. I entered the hall without hesitation. A simple fake moustache with a French beard had ensured that I would pass by unnoticed. The classic case of each spouse’s family thinking that I belonged to the other’s ensued.

The bride was sitting on the altar looking radiant. She was my first love. The courtship that we had shared was love in its most innocent form. Things hadn’t gone quite the way both of us had expected or imagined and we had to break up. Three long years had passed since then and fate had led us on different paths.

The reason I was attending her marriage was perhaps because at some distant corner in my heart I still cared for her and wanted to see her happy. Seeing her married would give me the permanent closure that I needed.

I looked on as the gold taali was tied to her neck, a ritual indicating that her heart now belonged to the silent man on the altar. Our eyes met, but only for a second. I walked towards the huge pile of marriage gifts. I deposited my gift, smiled at a little girl in a dhavani and made my way to the exit. I did not look back even once and boarded the Chevrolet.

She would later unpack my gift to find a elegant necklace and earring set with a note attached:-

To a happy wonderful life ahead

- The Mocked Bird