I wish I loved you too!

Shania sat under the tree. She looked like snow thawing into water, her broad shoulders were drooping, her black tresses flew wild against the monsoon winds, her eyes were stoned and her pale skin shone orange in contrast to the sun setting behind the river.
In her hay days Shania was magic, her poised looks, colorful ensembles, her flirty talks and her scent – the smell of roses dipped in honeydew. She had many admirers; she was surrounded by men who were in love with her and women who were in awe of her. She enjoyed every bit of the attention and pampering shown.
Shania was a cabaret dancer by profession. Her tiny waist vibrated with drum beats and her bosoms heaved with notes of saxophone. She moved swiftly across the small elevated stage and flew around the huge dining hall. Her body swayed like a young stem dancing against fast winds, her shining tiny clothes made her look like a fire angel, she was enigmatic and definitely very talented.
The 20 something lad was an object of desire men from all age groups drooled over her. One winter night as Shania was leaving the hotel lobby after her performance, a waiter brought her a note kept neatly over a small gift box. Shania accepted the gift as a usual routine and slipped the note along with the box in her big brown leather bag.
Shania had almost forgotten about the note and the gift, it just lay in the wooden chest, where she used to empty most of her gifts and complimentary notes. The tiny gift box and the note remained hidden with many more paper notes, tissue papers, visiting cards, small gifts and a few bills.
Years kept rolling and it was time that the carefree young looks gave way for a mature middle age women in crisis. She no longer worked for the Hotel; she still had people frequenting her but this time around not to splurge money on her but to ask her to pay back bills.
She now used to dance for private parties and that too were now declining. As she was returning home after a stroll in the neighborhood park, she received a notice in her mailbox from her landlord, expressing his courtesy of waiving off hr pending bills and helplessness in asking her to vacate the house in a week’s time.
Shania left the house next morning, taking nothing but a small backpack with her. Those who saw her leaving knew nothing of what was happening, for them it all seemed so routine – every morning Shania left for somewhere with a backpack and returned later in the afternoon.
She never returned no one knew where she went, where she lived and how she survived; she was an artifact of memory.
All she took with her was all those complimentary notes she had received from her lovers/ well wishers and those tiny gifts. She settled across the dingy motel, and read all the notes – she was smiling and crying – it was like rains on a sunny day. As she opened this note attached to a neatly packed box, Shania froze – the note read simple – “I Love you, and would always. When your pretty face wrinkles and your waist isn’t tiny enough, I still would love you. I would wait for you forever.” It was signed off by a phone number. The tiny gift box had a wax figure of a fairy holding a heart.
Shania felt so happy after years. She burnt all of the notes, and that tiny little gift too. She left the motel room and started walking aimlessly – she came across streets, parks, people, traffic and barren land. She settled under that tree near the river and gazed blank to the open skies – the sun had set, the sky was turning into ashes, she kept sitting there – thinking about the person who wrote that note – it was from her ailing father, whom she had ignored in addiction of fame. She hated him because he was old and she wasn’t ready to tender to his falling health and old age requirements.
Shania could see beyond the coal of the heavens and in the sparkles of sky diamonds – she hoped she could once see the face of her father and tell him – “I wished I loved you too”.