The Woman In Red

The woman in black has been staring at the dark reflections of the city skyline, perhaps trying to find a silent hurricane of the anxiety and fears that so many people who often visit this place encounter, beneath the frozen layer of stagnant water. For the umpteenth time she seems to have lost track of what remains amiss despite her efforts to calm down her reverberating pulse. With every beat an echo of submerged fear of loss and failure resurfaces to send waves of doubts about her own answers, dreams and determination. How else could she have justified everything that seems incomplete in a life that is perfect?  Caught in an infinite loop, her attention is diverted to the glaring red signal from a beacon afar as it gives a transparent view of the reflections on the surface piercing into depths beneath the waves. Everything that had been engulfed shimmers for a while before it turns black again. She wonders perhaps this is how those waves swallow the anxiety of everyone who has been here. Perhaps she had been too harsh on herself owing to expectations from others, but mostly from herself. The fear of failure isn't what holds people back, who knows it is the fear of facing oneself being too judgemental. Now with the passing beats, her pulse becomes normal. A weight has been lifted off from her heart. The depths are never visible to anyone else. It is the superficial and transient persona of performance that is subject to judgement. But why on earth should it considered viable to certify something that runs much deeper and holds enormous power to sail through harsh hurricanes? With another glaring signal from the beacon, the woman in black has turned red this time, inside out. She releases her fears into the waves, aware that her strengths and capabilities run through her, make her breathe and cannot be subjugated by contradictory flashes  of performance adjudged superficially.

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