A Jar of Hearts
Page 22
In her little chart of life goals she had drawn out at eighteen years old, she had pinned a gold tack on twenty-two, along with a detailed plan on journeying through Europe. But somewhere along the years, the chart fell off her board and flew under her bed, where it remained buried in dust until she spring-cleaned two months ago. When had time slipped by and taken over her life? For all she knew, she’d be hit by a bus in the busy streets of Chicago and she would never live those goals. Three days later after discovering her lost chart of life’s visions, she had handed in her resignation, ready to take over the world.
She aimed her camera at the children and they shouted with glee. She laughed and silently prayed at the same time that they wouldn’t fall into the water. She’d hate to cause any harm to them at her expense.
The sounds of the clicks of her camera entwined with the luscious sweeps of the canoe by the boatman, making her feel alive and adventurous. This was what she wanted to live to do for the rest of her life.
As the boat veered towards the sunset, she saw the man stand at the end of a platform, his hands on his hips, his eyes peering seriously onto the lilies that bobbed on the surface of the water. His clothes were damp and clung deliciously onto his body. She suspected from his native attire that he was a Kashmiri local. But there was something else that distinctly caught her eye. Perhaps, it was his tall height and well-defined muscles that were transparently obvious through the thin, damp material of his long loose tunic. However the case, she didn’t want to dwell too much on the fact on why he intrigued her. His profile was beautifully mingled with the sunset in the horizon and she couldn’t afford losing the opportunity to take his picture.
She aimed her camera at him, taking a quick couple of shots before he turned and frowned at her. She immediately set her camera down. He didn’t like it, she thought as she bit her lower lip. His eyes narrowed, focusing on her intently and she lowered her own. She looked away, sneaking a small smile. Regardless of how he may have felt about it, she had found her heroic shot. She could sell it online. It was bound to be worth something.
She let her dark tresses loose over her shoulders, watching the birds skim over the lake. This was her last day in Srinagar. Tomorrow, she was traveling to Kupwara, the crown of Kashmir. She had spent a week in Kashmir and it had been nothing but heavenly. Amy couldn’t have been more wrong.
* * *
[1] Shikara: A type of wooden boat found on Dal Lake and other bodies of water in Srinagar, Jammu, Kashmir and India