{"id":1,"date":"2011-04-15T01:04:00","date_gmt":"2011-04-15T01:04:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blogs.law.harvard.edu\/simplyjith\/2011\/04\/15\/last-dance-of-her-life\/"},"modified":"2011-04-15T01:04:00","modified_gmt":"2011-04-15T01:04:00","slug":"last-dance-of-her-life","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/simplyjith\/2011\/04\/15\/last-dance-of-her-life\/","title":{"rendered":"Last Dance of Her Life"},"content":{"rendered":"
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They say, all things become clear when one is about to die. Rachel even at 82, can give young women run for their money; yet because of her frivolous and undignified actions throughout her life, she had no one by her side : someone who truly loves her. Her hair, pitch black in her prime attracted attention from every man around her, turned into chalky white now. Her pale cheeks, battered by men in frustration : who fell prey to her charms, only to be cheated by her later. Shifting uncomfortably in her bed to avoid memories that are sweeping her mind, struggling to gain strength; Rachel looks at the flowers on the window sill, sent as a token of sympathy few days ago. With the freshness lost, flowers were dry and the parchment paper beneath them absorbed all the wetness. Long lost memories from the lanes of the past, she remembered few lines written in her honor…<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
“Seasons come…
… and go.<\/p>\n

Seldom do we realize the…
…taste of our first kiss.<\/p>\n

Seek it together, shall we…
…that state of eternal bliss?”<\/span><\/span><\/div>\n

Her face filled with a strange sense of remorse : Did she do the right thing, to cheat on someone who probably loved her for what she truly was? Rachel lived all her life creating significant false impressions about herself, never being true to anyone – may be she should have been true with Albert? He was the only one who loved her even after he knew that she cheated on him – thrice. Children lie, to cover up mistakes and faults, but they lie also as part of an evolving inner universe\u2014this is where the convoluted stories come from. They\u2019re discovering new things in the outside world, and somehow want to make it their own. Rachel grew up living a life of duality. She was never been able to develop a sense of truth and falsehood\u2014something any average adult is expected to possess.  This was probably the reason, she always choose to lie, than to speak the truth. She always feared, if she presents her true self, no one will ever love her. However, Albert was a different guy. He loved Rachel, even before he knew little about her. Even before their relation went to the next level, Albert perfectly knew Rachel was the kind of woman he wanted in his life, to grow old with. Rachel, being her usual self, had no reason to treat Albert with any special care : all through her relation with Albert, she continued to lie and live a life of duality. She wanted to keep Albert away from her real life, but destiny had other plans.<\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
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May be, if everyone of us, were to run dry just like the flowers, then probably what I did was right?  <\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
May be, I am not the right woman for Albert and destiny pushed me away? I am not to blame.<\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
May be, people were correct in calling me a Geisha? <\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
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Rachel’s mind had a myriad of  questions…thoughts…memories…pouring in.<\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
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Continued….<\/span><\/span><\/div>\n

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P.S.: This blog post presents a first view\/glimpse of last chapter (Last Dance of Her Life) of my book (not yet published) titled Precocious Truth: Unrequited Love. You may read the prologue for the same here<\/a>.<\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

They say, all things become clear when one is about to die. Rachel even at 82, can give young women run for their money; yet because of her frivolous and undignified actions throughout her life, she had no one by her side : someone who truly loves her. Her hair, pitch black in her prime […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2341,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/simplyjith\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/simplyjith\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/simplyjith\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/simplyjith\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2341"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/simplyjith\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/simplyjith\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":774,"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/simplyjith\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1\/revisions\/774"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/simplyjith\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/simplyjith\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/simplyjith\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}