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The Blindside




Her eyes pierced me like a wooden knife. It did not leave me injured but took my breath away in a minute the same way I had done with her in her teenage years. It scared me, I could not take it anymore. The early years flashed in front of my curious eyes. It was all past but something was still waiting to get finished, I thought. I had hurt her every time she came close to me. I ignored her. The ignorance which killed her in the past was my failure in the present. I spoke no word of hurt but my silence infuriated her to a larger extent. Her graceful eyes still searched something. That something which she expected out of me. The slender and lithe figure made her look elegant and that touch of beauty did not diminish in this age too. She kept her eyes transfixed on me. As if she asked me. She questioned me. My silence. I couldn't meet her gaze and averted my gaze. But truth appeared like a rock in the sea of betrayal. It did not move but stood as a testimony to my doings. I collected my thoughts and continued to meet her gaze. The eyes ambushed me without warning. Emotions pressed together in my mind. I thought I will apologize for whatever I have done and regain her trust. She might understand. And let go the past. The hurt. She was holding a stick which supported her to walk and move. She came forward. Her legs moved. Inch by inch. It slowed down in front of me. The stick came right in front of my figure when she was stopped by a very English looking gentleman. She quivered. The smile of the man comforted me. They moved ahead. As if something was forgotten, the man walked behind. He stood in front of me and said in a serious tone, “Uncle, sorry. My mother cannot see. Sorry if you were hurt.” I stood there dumbfounded. My eyes searched for her attention. The eyes saw me, yet they did not see me. But even if they did not, they did reveal the truth. She loved me. She is not blind. I am.



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