Gold Rush

Tuesday, 05 April 2011 17:30

Written by Anirooddha Mukherjee

The street ahead of him was completely covered with golden leaves, fallen from the trees lining the street. Spring had just gone by in a flash, taking away the bright flowers in bloom with it, making way for the fall. Fall brought with it an expanse of yellow and gold, and trees stripped of their foliage, standing bare like survivors of a terrible famine.

The street had been landscaped beautifully with trees all along. A single tree stood at a distance from the others. It still had a few golden leaves hanging on tightly to the branch, as if they did not want to let go of their life-support and fall to ignominy. This year the fall spoke of melancholy and desolation.

He took a step and listened to the sound of leaves crunching softly under his foot. The sound reminded him of her. She loved treading barefoot through fallen leaves. Almost a year ago, they had taken a similar walk together, in a deserted field on the outskirts of the city. Fed up of all the over-crowded joints and over-enthusiastic newfound couples, they had ridden away from the city, and found this abandoned field.

It was a heavenly sight. In front of them was a vast mélange of yellow and gold, interspersed by a few solitary trees, their branches swaying gently in the fond memory of the beauty gone by. The slight breeze ruffled up the leaves on the ground, creating a mystical golden haze. This year it was fall, in all its grandeur and magnificence.

She took a step and the leaves crunched softly. She took another step, and another, and then ran flat-out into the field, arms stretched at her sides, loose curly hair flying wildly about her. Then she stopped, turned around and looked brightly at him, her cheeks flushed. He stood speechless, drinking in the lovely sight. She beckoned at him to join her, and his feet moved of their own accord.

When he reached her, she took off her shoes, made him do the same and they started walking barefoot. It felt funny at first, the leaves creating a tingling sensation for a fleeting moment, before being crunched beneath their steps.

It’s like walking on a river of gold, the girl exclaimed.

The boy nodded, smiled and linked his fingers through hers.

While his surroundings, the trees, the leaves, the breeze exuded such calming serenity and peace, his heart was beating inexplicably wildly. He found himself at a loss to explain why he felt so flushed, so restless, even though all they had been doing was walking quietly through the leaves. He could almost feel his heart thumping beneath his chest. He looked at her, walking with her arms intertwined with his, her head tilted slightly, the world’s most beautiful smile on her bright face. Their eyes met again, and he had to make an almost inhuman effort to control his breathing, which had started to kick up.

And at that moment he realized that Cupid had struck him, and struck him hard.

The wind kicked up into a whirlwind, lifting the golden leaves with it and creating a flimsy curtain of gold before them.

After a while when the wind died down and the curtain subsided, he found himself back at the desolate street lined with famine-stricken trees and covered with a carpet of gold. A year had passed since the walk and he was alone and lonely now. The curly hair and the flushed smile brightened a different face now, kicked up a storm in someone else’ heart.

He stopped in mid-step. He could no longer bear the sound of the leaves crunching beneath him. Despair and gloom hung around him like damp clouds.

And then suddenly, the wind kicked up again. Through the mystical golden haze, he saw someone walking towards him. It was a feminine figure, a familiar face. He had seen her around. She came up to him and greeted him. She said how lovely the street looked, all gold and yellow.

He stared at her. Suddenly the clouds cleared. He looked at the street again. Now hope reigned supreme as despondence passed away into distant memory. He looked up at the trees, and he could swear he saw a tiny green newborn shooting from one of the branches.

Yes, Spring had come. And yes, miracles happened.