the shimmering light under the bridge

ujjwal kanishka utkarsh

5/18/20223 min read

the shimmering light under the bridge



we had already hugged bye twice. you were warm, very warm. the warmest embrace i have had in a while. Your warmth radiated through the slip that you had on. I really dreaded going out, it was NOT freezing cold, but it wasn’t warm like you. Fighting every instinct in my body, to slip under the quilt and cuddle in, I wore my sweater on, and the jacket on, and dragged along this bye even further along. I don’t even remember what I told you. Some random shit about enjoying Paris? I really had been dragging my feet since the past hour or so. And you were sleepy, drowsy. You had been all evening long, but we went on and on. I should have let you sleep. And now having really run out of eXcuses, I really would just let you sleep. But you jumped out of the quilt, and came across from the bed and hugged me again. That warmth again, and a kiss on the cheek. This was almost like in revenge, the one that I did in the previous hug. a revenge or a quid pro quo. something to make sure that the other knows that they are there, that its alright. maybe to reciprocate, in maybe the only we knew how to, in that moment. maybe to say its okay. maybe to say its okay to do more. maybe to say that the extent of this was what was alright. The bird sitting on your ear, flew away. Right then. Finally trying to fly paid off. It would fly away in that eid moon night. The eid moon. :) just the silver lining of the moon.

Yesterday the moon was full. Has the cycle of the moon been complete already. The moon was this huge yellow one hanging on to the trees in the landscape of the czech and then the polish villages. You had once made a moon for me. And it was yellow. I couldn’t get over how moon could be yellow. Moon is supposed to be blue. But here hung the yellow moon. resting on these far away trees as the train whizzed past away. Not caring about the moon. All it cared about was a little fox who lived in the city (apparently that’s what they do in europe, that and eating with clowns). The little foX was curious about nature. The mother fox takes the little foX for a trip to the nature. The mother foX didn’t speak a language I understood but somewhere in between tells the little foX that nature is also dangerous and wild and unpredictable.

i wonder why the unpredictable is bad. there were two moments that changed the city for me. A city I really didn’t like. both emerging from the unknown. both unpredictable. I had stumbled onto a graveyard and per usual I was just being there. Being with the dead is a lot of times is easier than being the living anyway. The foxes took me to your grave. And there I was, with you. In that hour I spend with you, I remember all that it meant for me. Quite often lately, I tend to forget all that it means to me. Somehow lighting that candle for you and being with you, reminded me of things. I remember when you had lit a candle for Balzac, and ended up burning the house down. You got a thrashing for it. Because of you, I have nostalgia of this city that I had no relation with. I remember how you skipped school. I remember trying to skip school myself. I remember this afternoon when both of us were home, and you were cooking. I remember you burnt your face. I remember feeling helpless. I remember not talking to you when you were there. I remember talking to you when you were not. I remember…

I remember falling in love once again when I was introduced to the little prince. I remember the little prince hiding behind you, holding on to the moon. I remember again the eid moon. I remember the light shimmering on the water under the bridge. The light falling on the water was not from the moon. But the bridge was made of wooden planks. It was only possible to see the shimmering through the gaps between the planks and when we walked through on it, the planks would disappear, just like the limelight in front of the projector light. No wonder in this city, where the cinematheque was invented, is where there would be a bridge which would act as a walk on through cinema.

I wonder if you realised how vulnerable i became in that moment. I wonder if you realised how embarrassed I was to let go so easily. Don’t think I often do. Of course there was an ugly building just across the bridge. A reminder this was still the city that i don’t really like. But sometimes other things matter more. Sometimes its nice to hold on to some other things, and sometimes they hang on. Sometimes a peck on the cheek is enough. sometimes an impossible phone conversation is enough. sometimes lighting a candle is enough. And sometimes we need to let go of these reminders of how it was, and think about how it is, but maybe sometimes we tend to hold onto things too much. I do have a problem of letting things go. But do you sometimes feel you have that problem too?