Lonely Memories

87 year old Sameera walked slowly up the alpine trail, before resting painfully against a large rock. Time had certainly treated her well, she mused. All her friends had stayed behind at the lodge, much too frail to attempt the climb to their yesteryear playfield.

As she leaned back and gazed at the sky, memories long forgotten came flooding back.

She had moved into this quaint little valley in the foothills when she was five, staying with her aging grandmother. She was a quiet, shy girl, then, never talking to the other village kids or mingling in any way. She first made the climb to the lowest meadow when she was seven, mostly looking for a place away from the noisy confines of the village. The meadow had been in full bloom then, as it was now, a carpet of reds, blues, and grays covering the field. It was also there she had first met Rudra, a pale scrawny kid with eyes the colour of nightshade. It had been he who had finally dragged her out of her shell, making her talk and laugh.

“You have a sweet laugh, Sam. You should let it out more.”

For months he had been her only friend, as she still refused to play in the streets. Then, one day, he showed up with another girl, dark as he was pale, with gray eyes the colour of yarrow flowers, and pearly white teeth nearly always showing through her grin.

“Sam, meet Nii! Nii, this is that will o’ the wisp I told you about, calls herself Sameera.”

“Hi! My name’s actually Indraa, but you can call me Nii, Everyone else does. Come on down, I’ll race you to the square!”

She slowly got to know the rest of the village kids, though the names and faces mixed in the head; Robert, Khanna, Miya, Suresh, Suryaa, Saaryu, Chandra… but Rudra and Nii were always closest to her.

Soon, no matter the challenge, she and Rudra were neck and neck at conquering it, and beating each other. One or the other was always first in class, with the other a close second; fastest runner, their competition extended even to such petty matters as who collected the most flowers for Nii on her birthday. Sameera smiled, remembering how she had barely beat Rudra on that one, pulling the rose out of her hairband.

No surprise then, when she found she had a knack for drawing in 11 grade, and Rudra none, he must needs show her up by learning to play the flute so well, nightingales sang duets with him.

The meadow was still her haven of choice, and she spent long hours sketching scenes from the field, Rudra and Nii were almost always there, when they weren’t off wandering alone together, him above her on a branch, teasing the birds with his flute, her lying in the grass at her feet. She spent more time talking to them than any actual drawing, really.

Sameera blinked, and sat up. The sun was overhead now, and she had spent nearly an hour sitting here.

“Hey, Sam.”

She looked up and saw Nii standing over her, a sad smile playing on her face.

“Scoot over, I’m not as young as I used to be, and my legs are tired.”

“Finally worked up the strength to come up here, huh?”

Looking at Nii now, in her mourning clothes, Sam was reminded of the last time she had stood on this meadow – Rudra and Nii had gotten married right here, sixty three years ago. She had been maid of honour. She had left for the States shortly after, pursuing a Creative Arts course in Carnegie.

“I still miss him so much, Sam.”

Nii was at the brink of tears, her gray eyes stormy and dark. Sameera reached over and squeezed her hand.

“So do I, Nii… Come on, let’s go over.”

At least Rudra got to rest now, where they had had so much fun together. She got up and helped Nii to her feet, and they walked over to the old spruce they had spent so much time around. They buried his ashes at its feet.

“Goodbye, Rudra.”