It had been a long day for Andrei. Clumsily he walked dragging his shoes in mud.
His hands were loosely tucked into his pockets. His sleeves were untidily
folded almost up to his pointed elbows. His shirt was scruffily gathered into
his trousers that hung around his thin waist. Cool summer breeze sifted through
his unruly hair. Fatigue of the day’s work reflected on this young man’s
demeanour. As he walked he never lifted his downcast eyes. Perhaps he was
reluctant to face the glimmer of the setting sun. He had not even realised how
bright the day had been. He reached his room; lifted his eyes to take a brief
glimpse of the disorganized state his room was in. Taking no notice of the
toppled pile of military books, three carelessly placed army medals and the
blown away pages written in his hand, he reached out to the easy-chair at the
window. Suddenly he sprawled over the chair as if he longed to do this.
He began to gaze through the window. The
sun hung low. Birds were returning. The skies were orange. Twilight diffused
through his window. For Andrei, it was just like that day which has been so
deeply etched in his memory. It was dusk even then. Both of them had stood
staring at each other. It was time to part. She knew it. He knew it. But they
just couldn’t drift apart. So difficult it was for Andrei to tear his eyes off
her face. Oh her face! How innocent it was. Those eloquent eyes- how deep they
were. How soulful! Andrei remembers that moment. He will never forget it. He
can’t forget it. Each and every fraction of that moment files pass his mind. In
that one perpetual moment she had given him everything that he had ever lost.
The dusk always reminds him of that day.
It has been three years since the war broke out in Austerlitz. Andrei was a
young soldier in one of Russian battalions. He fought valiantly but he was
wounded. Two bullets pierced his flesh- one in the arm and the other beneath
the chest. The injury was not fatal but the poison had begun to spread. He was
left untreated on the battleground for a day. Only after the battle was over,
somebody took him on the crude military stretcher and dumped him into the
makeshift medical camp adjacent to the battlefield. The military doctor pierced
his knife into his flesh and took out the bullet. With his rough strokes he
then sewed his wounds. Andrei cried out of excruciating pain. Doctor left him in
pain on his blood stained, crude stretcher next to the window. He just dosed
off. Septicemia was setting in.
He woke up after a day. A beam of
sunlight through his window welcomed him. It was a bright morning. Springtime
in Austerlitz is always beautiful. Fields stretched
endlessly. Long green grass fluttered in the breeze like the soft manes of a
galloping horse. Buds were blooming into flowers all
over as if colourful petals were strewn till the horizon. Gently and carefully
picking those flowers was a young girl wearing a bright red apron.
The girl in the red apron immediately
arrested wounded Andrei’s attention. He gazed and gazed through the crude
wooden frame of his window. ‘There- at the horizon’, he thought; ‘the rising
sun’s brilliant light touches her reddening cheeks. The fleecy clouds are
gently caressed by the cool summer breeze that sifts through her curly locks.
Melodies of the chirruping birds blend with the sweet aroma of the April Rose
carelessly held in her delicate fingers. How sweet is the fragrance of the
green grass that oozes its juice underneath her dainty little feet. How
beautiful are those rejoicing daffodils on the ground that are graced by her
downcast eyes. How surreal it is to feel her breath mingling in the melodies of
silence around her.’
Andrei found himself in acquaintance
with strange and overwhelming emotions. But what emotions? Did he feel lured?
Was he in love? Or was he just admiring the beauty- a non corporeal, surreal
sense of beauty? Or was it just a sense of comfort after a gory battle? He was
confused. None of his answers convinced him. It was just a feeling- a bare
feeling. An emotion that was unique in itself. There was no word that could
describe that emotion. It was neither attraction, nor love, nor comfort, nor
was an admiration of non-corporeal beauty. It was all of them and much more. No
word, no sentence, no idea could he conceive through which could ever fathom
what that feeling was. It was just unique in its own way.
Andrei remained obsessed with those emotions
all day. Image of the girl in red apron picking flowers did not leave his
vision. Painful cries of soldiers around him were drowned in the silent tune
that the girl might have been humming to herself. The stretcher that reeked
with his blood appeared sweetened by the aroma of the roses that the girl in
red apron had picked. His own pain was lost in the bliss with which the girl
was prancing her way through the meadow while collecting flowers. He dreamt,
slept and woke- all indistinguishably.
Without any break in his dreams, he
found that it was morning again. The girl in the red apron was again there,
collecting flowers in her basket. Andrei silently watched her through the
window. Soon her basket was full. She disappeared. And she appeared again, now
through the door of the medical camp. Andrei watched her as she entered and gradually
advanced towards him. Distributing roses and smiles to the wounded soldiers all
her way, she glided gently through the plethora of ruin and pain all around
her.
Finally she reached the window where Andrei
was lying. He saw her. She was standing just before him. He kept gazing at her.
She gazed at him. He couldn’t say anything. What could he have said? There was
no name to his feelings. There was no accent that could provide him an expression.
There were only eyes- eyes blurring with tears. What were those tears for? He
could hardly understand. Both gazed at each other- speechless, wordless and
voiceless. They couldn’t have been more eloquent. Impulsively she placed a rose
on his pillow. She uttered a few words which Andrei could hardly grasp. He was
too deeply sunk into those wordless emotions for words to make sense to him.
The day passed in her thoughts. The rose
was kept besides him. Its fragrance carried him to her. Its crimson colour was
reminiscent of her presence. He brought the rose close to his chest and hugged
it hard. Tears rolled down from the sides of his eyes. The flower was so dear
to him. He couldn’t part with it. It was his sole companion, his mate, his
love. He adhered to it for it was only the flower that was eloquent enough to
reciprocate his voiceless sentiments. He dreamt, woke and slept- all as if in a
trance.
Without a hiatus of any sort, he found
it was the next day. Sun was setting. It was dusk. She was there. Both of them
stood staring at each other. It was time to part. She knew it. He knew it. But
they just couldn’t drift apart. So difficult it was for Andrei to tear his eyes
off her face. Oh her face! How innocent it was. Those soulful eyes- how deep
they were. How eloquent! Andrei exerted to bring out some words. He wanted to
make a promise of his return and expected an assurance of her presence. But all
that he managed to say was too vague to make sense to the two souls
communicating in accents far beyond words. He climbed into the military van and
the gap between them stretched. He raised his hand to make the final gesture.
It was partly an attempt to make a wafture and partly an attempt to seize the
infinitude of that moment in the little palm of his hand.
Three years have passed since then. Andrei
has since been grappling with enigmas that that moment had given him. The
flower has been treasured the way the memories of the girl in red apron have
been cherished. In these three years he has been to Austerlitz several times
searching for the girl in the red apron. He spent days looking for her but all
in vain. His wounds have healed but the one who provided him the balm is gone.
He sits by his window with the image of the girl in red apron before his eyes.
Just like this day, every dusk would carry him back to her.
Grown habitual of searching for her, he
sets out for Austerlitz once again. He reaches the battle field. He sees those
meadows. He sees those flowers. He sees that medical camp now ruined with time.
All is so familiar to him. But the
difference this time was that he found his young lady, dressed in a red apron,
filling her basket with flowers. From
inside the dilapidated structure that was once the medical camp, he gazed at
her. She was just the same- delicate, gentle with blushing cheeks and curly
hair. Andrei lost his speech. His eyes were blurred with tears. He had found
what he had been looking for all these years.
He attempted to reach out to her but
couldn’t. He was reluctant even to inch closer. He realized that his object was
elusive. Was the girl in the red apron his destination? He found it difficult
to convince himself of that. What was that he was looking for all these years?
Perhaps his object is lost. Perhaps
there has been no object. His search has been aimless- for something abstract.
He may never know. But as he stands before the girl who changed his life, he is
now sure of one thing. It is not her who he was searching for. She was there,
right before him. The flowers, the grass, the medical camp- all were there as
before. But his destination still eluded him. What were missing? Perhaps those
abstract feelings. Those abstract emotions had conjured up during that
particular moment when they parted. Those emotions were intertwined with the
moment that passed. The moment just slipped and what he was left with was the
reminiscence of those feelings. It was the overwhelming nostalgia not of the
girl in the red apron but of those feelings that impelled his search. Andrei
soon realised this. He kept gazing at the girl in the red apron as she kept
collecting flowers. Soon her basket got filled. It was dusk by then. The sun
was again setting, just like that day. The girl began to leave. He did not make
any effort to stop her. He couldn’t. Nothing impelled him to do so. The entire
bliss was in those emotions. What he had longed to attain all through those
three years were those abstract emotions that the brief association with the
girl had aroused in him. The moment that sifted from between his fingers of his
hands that he had raised to make the parting gesture, had made all the
difference. In that perpetual moment she had given him everything that he has
ever lost. Life is none but one such moment.