Futile

She was my life, and she also happened to be a famous danseuse. We had known each other for a decade now. There were days when time wouldn’t move without us seeing each other, talking our hearts out and feeling each other in our arms. But unknown to both, time did move on, and so did we. The mediocrity of our lives had forced us both to leave home in search of the daily bread. Soon we were living in two distant parts of the country, the only ray of hope shining through the optical fibers of telephone lines. The occasional letters, albeit long and detailed, soon started disappearing as the monotony of the monstrous metropolis manifested the meanings of our lives. I started to dive deep down the dark dungeons of despair to drown the deepest desires of being with her.Soon as it was, I returned to my city as an engineer busy building bridges and boulevards. I also came to know she, by now, had her claim to fame by becoming a notable dancer of an eastern dance form. She was now busy touring the world, performing to please the spellbound spectators and critics alike. Her life now was framed in calendar. She had grown big, and busy. Too busy for me too, maybe? She had promised to meet me in our city two years back; I had come all the way to just catch her glimpse, but her silver sedan had sped past me, not even braking for a glance. Since then I haven’t seen or heard from her. Since then I have moved a step closer to lunacy every passing day. I have spent many a sleepless night and disdainful day yearning for her, wanting her, just the look of her at least. But she has remained as elusive as her correspondence address and telephone number.But today it was not to be. Today I knew for sure she would be back in the city. I knew the city she was coming from, the flight she was to take, the hour of her arrival and the route she would take to her next destination. Here I was, half past eleven at night, atop the foot over bridge, looking down at the road she was to take any minute now. My eyes frantically checked for signs of her sedan, the beam of whose headlight was to shine on me any moment now. It was an unusually empty road, and hardly a couple of cars had crossed this path in the last infinite hours of what seemed to be my wait. Was there a light in the distance? Was it that of a car? A sedan? Maybe even a silver one? It sure was! It was her! Speeding down the road. I had no time to climb down the bridge to intercept. The windows were closed and I couldn’t even shout out. What was I to do? Will He give me such a chance again? I jumped.The driver slowed down briefly and looked around to check for eye witnesses. There was blood on his windshield. The wiper could take care of that, though, with some water. The body had bounced off his bonnet and landed in a bush nearby, away from public sight. Chances of survival were out of question. What was he to do, after all? A hard day’s work, followed by a binge drinking session at a friend’s place and then a tiresome drunk drive back home. Even if he did report, who would believe a drunk driver claiming a man had literally fallen from the sky on top of his car? He had already decided to let this be a nightmare for the rest of his life and sped off. Nightmares in one’s own bed were better than those in a prison cell any given day!At the same time there was an announcement in the airport. All flights landing in the city that night had to be cancelled because of bad weather and foggy conditions. All arriving flights for that night have been delayed and are expected at least 24 hours late.