Nandini, a Love Story,

Chapter-11

The Brooding Eyes

I did not know how to explain, but whenever I met those eyes I wished to delve deep within it. I noticed nothing of him, only those framed eyes under the spectacles. I ignored him, but his eyes kept haunting me even in my sleep. They just touch and knock my brain draining pensive emotion and fear of losing myself. He seemed so familiar as if I knew him from my previous birth. I could sense him, could feel him, even if I could not see him through the crowd. I never missed him, never missed those eyes if they remained anywhere within my sensory organs. Some people have beautiful eyes, sparkling, funny, romantic, enormous, small, grave whatever but I can read them after all they cannot play any hypnosis upon me. But I dared not to read him; that’s why it possessed me. One day I must confront him and decipher the mystery, making it ordinary, too ordinary that they would lose the devouring magnetic charm. Then I would be free. Till then I have to remain captivated by them.

I wished nothing from him, just to sit in silence keeping my eyes resting on him, touching his long fingers with mine. This desire tremendously gnawed inside me in mincing pain. Sometimes in my dream, I reshaped him-an an enormous tree blossoming under the generous sky cladding in an ethereal hue with his eyes gleaming in warmth and love for me.

To be continued…

munu.ruku2020

Hey, I am Munmun, the phoenix fabulist who wants to tell you stories. I love to read stories and I love to weave stories. I feel life is an amalgamation of multiple stories, colourful threads, and threads of pain, pleasure, hope, and hopelessness. We just need to pick those hues and arrange them, knitting them with our own emotions and perception. So let’s celebrate the stories of life.