Avenue 29

I was walking down the dingy narrow lanes of the not so famous parts of the city of Chelyabinsk. It was so cold. I was crying, the only source of warmth in that gelid weather. Yes, I had broken up with him and why I would not, I spent two years changing all my habits and adjusting to his lifestyle. He just wouldn’t understand. He mocked my idiosyncrasies, laughed at my gestures and gait, made fun of the way I talked and on top of that treated me as an option. I then realized how lonely and neglected I felt crossing a boulevard lined up with pine trees. The snow on the trees glistened in the moonlight and made it look like a fairy tale sequence.

Contrary to the landscape and beauty of nature, I was filled with remorse and glum. I knew I was not the most beautiful person in the world but at least I tried to be a person of value and substance. I wanted the love to last but it did not.  So, there I was alone and cold and tired and teary-eyed looking back at the two years and feeling pitiful about myself.  Just when I thought it was getting late and probably, Mom would have been waiting for me cooking the most splendid dinner since it was her holiday and Dad was there at home too, I crossed an apartment that said Lake Avenue 29.

There was nothing new about the apartment, it was like all the other apartments that we have in our city, tall and old fashioned with covered up with snow with a small stairway that leads to some shady market place. The unusual part was the fact that there was a guy near the stairway with a wonderful guitar in his hand singing a melodious rendition for his Lady Love who was watching him out from a window on the first floor of the apartment. The guy had no woolen garments on his body and he had even kept his cap on the ground.  The girl looked ravishing; she looked like the morning sun on that chilly night. Her hair was red like Portia from the Merchant of Venice and had I been Shakespeare, I would have written stories telling about the beauty that caught my eye. The music, the night, the dynamics between the two made me stop crying and enjoy the music so much so that I forgot about the misery that was prevalent in my life. For the first time in so many days, I did not have to pretend to smile; I enjoyed the tunes and their looking at each other.

You might be thinking about why I am going on and on with my boring tale about nothing, but you know what, that day I saw Hope and contagion of Goodness. You know life hits us all in the head and we all fail to keep the faith and get really disheartened. But if we look at it in this way, that guy on that night had no clothes to warm him up and the girl probably had constraints so she could not come down to see him, but they were there for each other. We meet wrong people in our lives and end up assuming all of them would be wrong, but there is goodness in the world and there is Hope. Hope is a good thing to hang on to. What if the best is indeed yet to come, why be sad when there can be things that can make us happy instead.

I went home happy that day and had the most magnificent dinner. I slept like a log that day thinking all the good is yet to happen. You just need to cross the right Lake Avenue 29.

-Sharanya Jha