The sunny holiday afternoons and a bunch of crazy 10 year old’s , fidgeting around with toys and sipping on their amm-ras, was our usual summer vacation setting. And off all these monkey friends was my bestie (we all have one from the bunch we love and share our secrets with) . We would roll out on our private little cycle tours while planning out on our twinning outfits and the next time we would sneak in our neighbors garden. She was a person I adored. Her blingy frocks , sparkling eyes , endless plans and immense confidence made her an instant hit.
Her jet black curls and a dimple on that cheek added to the perfect blend of beauty she was. She aspired to be a model , posing all day for the red kodak camera her dad had got from his trip to Kuwait.
As we grew old, those desires were buried under the societal pressure. The only thing that mattered for her parents was stature. Status prevailed over her dreams. After 15 odd years today, i see that dimpled face behind her work desk, plain , dull and charmless.
I stand with disbelief and look at her face that bears a grin, the warmth replaced with hardness that’s been etched in there delicately with time.
I judge her, but i am dreaded from within, fear nestling somewhere in my mind.
Will I always be strong enough to follow my heart? Or will I blur into darkness?