Hamartia

Hamartia

She sways on her feet, shifting her petite frame from one side to another. The nose ring looked singularly sensual. The mole on her exposed shoulder even more so. The lips had quivered before speaking, as if weighed down by the enormity of the words. Inclined on teasing her, the tresses were tenaciously unruly. His hand gone to them mechanically. Then he had drawn it back, apologizing profusely. Ah. A tear glistened in the large brown eyes, his reflection in them suddenly becoming crystal clear. But only for a moment. Or so it seemed. Was it symbolic? Only if……

He twitches his nose and jiggles the toes. The hair had been flattened to the point of making him look absurd. He knew she hated that. Yet. Why? His beady brown eyes conveyed no emotion. They were blank and deep. She had been enamored by them once. But no longer. She steals a glance at him again, hoping against hope that the tide of emotions wouldn’t overwhelm her. The look in her eyes drives him crazy, but he stays quiet, speculating whether words would do more harm than silence. Again? He had become habituated to weighing pros and cones. The urge to act on impulse had subsided some time back. She had not failed to notice that. Like every other thing. However, despite all odds, she had persevered. Even he knew that. Even he respected that. That’s why he had come. All the way…….

Limited by his underscores, he looks away and mumbles something about how fascinating she appeared. She brushes him off, blushing all the same. The color in her cheeks is one of shame and apathy. Why couldn’t he stop? The incessant politeness had shattered her more than once. She wished he would lash out at her once. So that bitterness ended things with conclusiveness. So that both could live to see the light at the end of the day. But his contours don’t give anything away, like on so many other occasions. Deadpan. One such occasion had ignited the sparks……

Yet again, he had looked at things the wrong way, worried about the inconsequential, and driven himself paranoid. She had witnessed the downfall like a mute spectator, wishing he would learn, at least once. But he had been on a quest of his own, an effort doomed from the very beginning, for it aimed at perfection. He had been his haughty self, too proud to accept mediocrity, and too tragic to let go of it. She had lived with it for sometime. But then the dam had given away. “You have to understand”, she had pleaded. He had simply assumed an indifferent demeanor. Smarting with the lack of words, she knew the thread between them had been burnt. What if………

The goodbyes were never said, for both of them didn’t mean to say them. Why the staged act of moving on then? Why the pretended nonchalance? Maybe he had realized he had to let go in order to learn. Maybe she had known he would forever be the tragic flaw in her character, her hamartia. Maybe each had realized it would not be possible to live without the other. As they parted ways, one final time, both could not help but think. Where did we go wrong………