The Night’s Serenade: A Story of People, Emotions, and the Beauty of Darkness
I’ll tell you a story. You won’t believe it. Every line I say would be discarded as product of imagination. Your brain’ll refuse to process the mere existence of such a thing. Yet you’ll listen. Like a child trying to eat chair by its toothless jaws. It’s futile, bound for failure. Yet it continues to do so.
There is a place where night is welcoming. Sleepy wind manages to shake the leaves of newly groomed trees. It’s quite, dark and beautiful. A person, trying to avoid comfort of warm bed with full stomach wanders aimlessly trying to avoid the gaze of curious moon under the hoodwink of clouds. Night is not empty. In fact, it’s full of something blazing.
A boy and a girl, sitting on pavement, away from stark headlamp are discussing some mundane stories. Boy is happy to get someone who doesn’t mind listening to his stories and not pointing out the absolute futility of the happening. Girl is content to have someone who is willing to pour his heart and accompany her whole and soul under the cover of this happening night light. She giggles sometimes, at silly absurdity of boy’s comments. His eyes lightens up showing his excitement of being able to make her laugh while she continues to hide her nervous excitement of this meeting with her laugh.
The night is not alone. A newly aquatinted boy and girl are standing in somewhat lighter part of the place. Clearly, the interaction is more constricted here. A respectful distance is present. The boy, standing on one leg is trying to explain some scenarios brought up only to make conversation continue. Girl is on tiptoe. She’s trying to control her excitement but her legs are failing her. Continuous flickering of foot betrays her made up calm face. She’s under complete spell of his stories, trying not to miss anything that might give out her wish to close up this formal gap of interaction. She’s thankful at-least night is un-judgemental of her lovely desperation.
There are two friends sitting in the coat of darkness. All the topics of discussion have long become obsolete. The sitting still continues. One is plucking the grass overthinking a situation which is never going to happen. Other one is sleepy, wishing he should be somewhere less eerie, living a dream only sleep can give. He’s already hopeless of night, just praying to have a good sleep. All the sweet soothingness of night is failing at that.
There are a group of friends, laughing cheerfully, somewhat breaking the calmness of dark. They have recently started using up their freedom and were quick to realise the cost of this independence. They are just thankful to have someone to share the independence, raising the irony of the situation.
There is a married couple trodding leisurely on the grasses, appreciating the calmness and comfort night provides from their daily hustles. Talk happening is about tomorrow hustles only but somehow, tomorrow seems a long way in future.
Then there is writer. Sleep eluded him completely today. Trying unsuccessfully to welcome it for few hours, he gained courage to go for walk. Night is welcoming. The quite rustle of gust is charming. Stories happening in reality of night is as beautiful as dreams of sleep. Nobody is up to have to make an effort of smiling. Face is stretched of wearing a different masks of emotions throughout the lights of sun. But night is considerate. It slowly peels off the masks so that only the real one is there. It doesn’t pass on comments of incompleteness, incompetency. It doesn’t make us hustle incessantly. All it want is for us to have one moment of comfort.
Night is caring, like the cooling soothingness of ointment on a bruise, of the coldness of water in brazing noon, like the comfort of warm blankets in winter evening.
Night is dream of dreams.
– Sachin Tiwari
