country woman has matured

Sitting the way, in a usual way , eyes close to dive into a surreal world, where the walls seem smothered with the beauty of the morning light, of the dew on grass, and then a woman paves her way, not sure if she has matured enough to be a woman or is she still a country girl. A girl, with oodles of laughter on her little face, with mischief sparkling in her eyes, a kitty holding the strength and hopes for once lifetime; a woman walked. She left a trail behind her, many jumped to follow her, others let a sigh and wished to stop her and clinch her in their tiny palms, alas! Wishes were wishes. Some were still who didn’t follow and didn’t wish they rather stood stolidly in her path, stopped her and interrogated her. “A country girl has matured” she answered, they looked back at her in awe, she smiled and moved away. She took the wind with her, leaves sang the song of glory, birds choired, and the rain perfumed her way. She walked and didn’t look back at the mob that followed. As she stooped, people raised eyes, but she, as an oblivion flower of north looked least bothered. And this even squeezed the last drop of curiosity left in the people around her. She was a ‘babe’ some said and joked, but not at her face, some just scoffed, but ‘country girl has matured’, she didn’t seem to oblige them. She was the centre of their afternoon talks, of their good night verses, she was she, she was the talk, she was a blaze, and she walked leaving behind a trail. Followers queued to be her followers, her disciples, but this woman didn’t speak, she seemed to be in a reverie, some said, a fool given the status of ‘miss buzz’, but her buzz was buzzing their consciousness of solitude, they were becoming she, with every sip of her. She was walking her way, with days passing by, nights turning darker, cats purring, dogs barking, torrents flooding, but her feet forgot the mark of ‘stop’. She walked leaving somersaulting people in curiosity.

Finally, the day came when the marathon came to a halt, and this was the day, when everyone thought that the secret would be unveiled, people thronged at the stopping place, with kids hanging at the side waist, urchins making the usual noise and so came the time when the woman spoke, ‘well, i was on my way” , saying this she shrugged and walked again leaving a trail behind, with people still left curious and buzzing all the while and there were some who realized that they still needed some time to mature!

P.S. the picture is the photograph named “Florence, Italy” by Ruth Orkin, which depicts a woman walking down the street facing a gauntlet of men whistling and gaping at her. Her eyes are cast down, terrified, as she clutches her shawl to her bare shoulder. though still, the woman in my text is not a terrified one but a matured and confident one(didn't get a better picture)

ending did fumble, but i hope the picture gives you the idea. else you can speculate!...:)