She smiled, as the water tickled her feet, just like how a mother amuses her child. She felt relaxed, the weight of her being comfortably settled on the sand. She looked on towards the horizon, thoughtless but content.
He smiled, spotting her at a distance on the beach. He felt relaxed, seeing a sweet smile adorn her face. He looked on towards her, thoughtful but content.
She didn’t have to look, for she recognised the silence of his steps. But just as the sand lets the steps be seen as footprints, she saw him and smiled.
“May I sit? Or do you wish to be alone?” he asked, smiling.
“Alone? The ocean could be alone even when the crowds flog its contours. Solitude is but a state of the mind.” Her soft laugh anchored him to the sand.
“You seem so distant… Eyes de-focused, gazing at something I can’t even see. Sometimes I really want to know what’s going on in your head.”
“Ha, I wish I knew that myself!” Her words sounded amused.
“You seem to validate the fact that girls are difficult to understand.” They laughed, eyes fixed, away from each other, but together at the horizon.
“What man would you choose, if ever?” He asked, in the voice of a child scrutinizing a particularly charming shell, trying to discover the parts in it he could not see.
“Well, any man.”
Any man who watches me with gentle intrigue, as if I was the sparkles in an ocean. Any man, who wonders and wishes to know what mysteries lie in the shimmer of the sparkles, adorning the undulations of Time. Any man, who reaches early, to watch the sun dawn for morning to rise by the beach, and waits till the dusk yawns for the night to sleep.
Any man, who scales the sandy shores from a distance, never breaching beyond the waves, but waiting to touch the sand… moistened by the ocean’s tears with his own bare skin.
The one who yearns to approach the waters and fathom its colours and depths but instead chooses to let the waves come forth and touch him, or recede away softly. And then, treasures the figureless stones, the empty shells, some smoothed by struggle, some carved with stories… he treasures them, for they were left behind by the receding waves.
Any man whose footprints the sands recognise, for he has pressed them with the patience and silence of his steps. Any man who begins to hear the words in the soft gurgling of water, who feels the joy, the laughter in the breeze, who understands the opaqueness of the shifting colours and the translucence of the tranquil water.
The one who waits… for he has faith that, to him, the ocean promises peace, and love, solace and belongingness, caressing waves to dissolve all grief, and fathomless depths of chronicles to explore. The one who knows that the ocean shall be for him, an endless beauty, a joy forever.”
Her voice seemed to him, a song from the depths of the ocean…
He looked at her, eyes defocussed, for she seemed to him a distant sparkle.
He looked at the sparkle in her eyes and smiled, for they seemed to him an ocean of riddles.
They left the ocean to muse over the sunken impression on the sand where they sat. The impressions sat apart, a foot of sand between them. And the waves silently washed over, hoping to let the distance fade.