Lost in the crooked and narrow streets of Venice, armed only with an A4 sheet-an excuse for a map, I had no better option than to take in the sights offered by the city of canals. Forsaking the picturesque view of the web of canals (shortage of money so no Gondola ride) crisscrossing the city, appearing just like the gossamer strands of a spider’s web, we decided to visit the shops instead.
It was during this mindless wandering I came across a shop. Set in a narrow alley behind St. Mark’s cathedral this shop was not unique. It sold the same fare- the same run of the mill Original (actually made in China) Murano Glass, the same handcrafted Venetian artifacts as numerous shops around it did. I was so saturated that I was in no mood of paying the shop a second glance. However, something caught my attention- something that stopped me in my track, garnering the attention of my friends, for I was never the one to stop and stare at the “souvenirs”.
The shop had a large collection of masquerade ball masks. These masks were of the same ilk of those sold in the nearby shops- hand made by professionals adhering to the strict standards. The uniqueness was with the mask put up as the centre piece - the Pièce de résistance. (To remove any doubts before they even surface, the mask was pretty cheap).
So there I was, stopping here and there looking in the windows with a saturated mind not noticing anything when that black mask suddenly drew my attention. There was no jousting, no clamoring; the control was as complete and precise as that exerted by a magnet on helpless iron fillings around it. Almost in a hypnotic trance I stared at the mask without giving any heed to the world around me. The time slowed, external interferences lost any meaning, and my mind went blank except for one thought- one that surfaced, pulled from the dark shadowy depths of brain by the mere sight of that exquisite object.
I was devoid of any feelings but for the longing kindled by a solitary thought, an intense longing to have someone- a girl in my life, a girl who I love madly, and then to see her wearing that mask. The radiance of her fair skin: a direct contrast to the black of the mask, her long dark hair cascading down to the middle of her back in all their natural glory free of any adornments or style, with a few of her unruly tresses kissing her face. I imagined myself staring at the angelic apparition for all eternity occasionally reaching out to tuck those few strands of hair behind her ears-where they won’t stay. In my stupor it was easy to feel envious of them because they didn’t need any excuse to touch her face. I was overpowered by the emotions. It was as if thunder without sound jolted the air- exquisite, violent though for that instance sovereign.
I tried to capture the image of that mask in my camera. Though I was not able to do justice to the exotic piece of art, I somehow am able to create the same feelings- though toned down in intensity whenever I look at it.
