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That night , I cried …


Jardin des Tuileries, Paris

One might say that crying is merely a biological process humans and most animals are capable of. A mere act of releasing saline fluid loaded with protein and water from lacrimal glands present in the human eye.Ah! and not to forget, there is definitely this ‘forever-complex’ neural connection between lacrimose glands and the human brain with the notorious hormones doing their little stunt in between šŸ˜› but doesn’t it seem like there is something more to all of this ? Something more intriguing ? Some uncracked mystery ? Something subtle yet profound ?

Tears say it all, don’t they ?

They come out when you can no longer use your tongue to utter words , when you can no longer use your pen to write down your thoughts, when you can no longer use your tactile senses to enact or perform an action, when you have something within you that your heart can no longer endure.An expression that bypasses barriers of all kinds , be it cultural,racial,territorial or lingual.They share no boundaries , no limitations ,no regulations.They are what they are , how they are , when they are ..Tears , plain tears ..

Yes, that night , I cried …

I loitered in the fading sunshine and entered Garden of Tuileries(Jardin des Tuileries) . As I walked on the soft wet sand that was glazed by rain drops , I could hear the autumn wind rustling through the tree leaves .


Jardin de Tuileries,Paris

I stood by a pond quietly watching the wind blow the surface of water ,pigeons pecking on the edge of pond in the sand,people cozily standing around the fountain, hands in pockets, soaking in the last rays for the remainder of the evening.I closed my eyes to this low crisp whispering and gulped in a big draft of cold damp air.Absorbed in my own thoughts and inner world , I continued walking slowly on a bed of freshly fallen leaves ,along the garden’s axis feeling the same wind that was swaying the tree branches , brushing my face.My lungs embraced every single air molecule and invited them to fill every corner of its chambers .My heart overflowed with a sense gratification and fulfillment.My cheeks flaunted a pink winter blush.My eyes gleamed with a blissful smile.


Jardin des Tuileries , Paris

A soft glowing light filled the sky , scattering the sun’s rays in the atmosphere.Twilight was here.It was a walk to remember.I only realized that I had reached the end of the garden when I saw an Arch.It looked similar to Arc de Triomphe I had seen earlier in the day, only smaller in size .This was Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel. It is triumphal arch in Paris, built to commemorate Napoleon’s military victories.Still lost in my nature nostalgia and seemingly disinterested in the Arch, I took reserved and coy steps towards it , through its canopy and then froze to my first sight of the pyramids of Louvre. It was dark.Night had just begun to fall in.The atmosphere was quaint and calming.The pyramids were breathtakingly lit up.My feet refused to move.My hands refused to take out the camera.My jaws refused to close.My eyes refused to blink..And there they came ….rolling off my cheeks , unstoppable .I stood there , just stood there crying.

Yes, that night I cried …


The splendid Louvre at dusk

1 Comment »

  1. I think what connects us humans and humbles humanity is often taken for granted – our tears. We live in a society where only the Alphas are respected and revered, while emotions are very easily side-lined as a sign of weakness and even failure. It takes not just courage but also inner-strength (both of them are very different) to tell the world that you cried. Most of us, when we cry, we close the doors and windows and even put on irrelevant music to drown the sounds of sorrow. But you very eloquently drew an image of me, and reminded me of the last time I cried my heart out. Let me tell you, the Sound of Music track was blasting through my walls that night.


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