The lights of the city, the streetlights on the roads had just been switched on and against the blue sky they looked so strange, so unnecessary. It was 6:30 pm on a cold winter’s day, but surprisingly it wasn't dark yet. The sky was almost cloudless, pale blue and then suddenly ahead of me lay this beautiful golden pink orange haze.
To my left were rocks and one solitary huge building- lit up. It stood there incongruously, standing out against the serenity of everything else. The place was so unlike Bombay. There was an entire stretch of untouched land, no buildings, nothing. Just the vast emptiness of the sky and a faint outline of the moon, crescent and almost invisible and one single shining star.
The road seemed endless; the lights seemed to stretch out on the road ahead as it curved. And all there was on that lonely road in December was him and me. Him and Me. The emptiness, but the completeness of the moment stunned me. You couldn't possibly find this emptiness in Bombay.
And somewhere I think in this silent stretch of land, we found each other.
The road took another turn and the entire city, the buildings and trees formed this outline of dark hazy shadows.
Just complete darkness, and then a soft hopeful pastel orange pink and then the calmest blue. I couldn't bring myself to stop looking out of the window, at that patch of eerily orange sky, the horizontal strip in the middle of all that blue, even when he placed his hand on mine.
It was a start. A new beginning. And in that moment, I couldn't help but feel that maybe, maybe this time things would really be okay. Maybe this time we would be okay.