Photographs untaken

(photograph by Amogh Pant)

That time when I went to see her. I wasn't sure if she needed a listening ear, a hand to hold, a bit of counsel, or someone at whom she can lash out all her repressed anger. I wasn't even sure how she was feeling. I found her, usually a canvas of vibrant life, suddenly devoid of emotion. Mouth set in grim determination, eyes dry and unseeing. A face that betrayed as much pain as purpose.

...

That summer, sharing a narrow bed with him. We had been talking for hours. For days. With only sleep and 4 hours of class between us as reprieve. And even then, sleep was elusive and insignificant. When it did come, his breath on my shoulder was such comfort. The calm on his face, his posture in contented slumber. A reminder of happy days etched in the past.

...

Those evenings in my youth, way past midnight but before light broke. Side by side, he and I. In silence, with a crossword puzzle on the table in front of us. He would look at me, eyes filled with faith, gratitude and unspoken love. He would smile, and the smile was tender.

...

That day, when he came to me to say he was getting married. To explain why he was leaving me during such turbulent times. His words fell soundlessly, but his face echoed my sadness.

...

On the road, to God knows where. The streets were empty; the humming of the car the only sound I could hear. And my heartbeat. His hands--- calloused and hard--- gripping the steering wheel with complete confidence. Or was it the steering wheel that was chastened under his touch? I fell in love with those hands.