An Evening at Coney Island

Picture captured by Robert Doyle at Coney Island, New York.

I can’t remember the last time I visited Coney Island. Probably because those were the brief happier days, the memories of which seem to be getting hazier now.
It’s unusually chilly today– should’ve brought my wind breaker. I sit on an empty, cold bench on the left, near the side walk. Partly because it is easier to observe all the life from here, partly because it is empty.

There is a sharp, cold drizzle imbued in the air as I watch the twilight melt slowly into the night and the clouds appear to be hanging threateningly low, heavy with moisture that’ll soon pour down as rain.

I finished my shift early today. There weren’t many people in the neighborhood looking for a drink to drown their grief in- so I was free.

After closing for the night I found myself standing at his doorstep, staring blankly at the wooden latch.  Uncertain about what may occur if it opened I left, with slow, hesitant steps and lumbered straight to Coney Island-  a place that made me happy since I was 14.

I made my way straight to the latte stall and grabbed a warm cup of coffee- keeps my head straight-and sat on this bench from where I’m talking to you.

There is something oddly beautiful about places that are always buzzing with people but are quieter at the moment. I’ve always looked at this place and seen poetry in every corner-even when I was young.

A few people linger around the empty stores, some stare at the brightly lit wonder wheel, leaning on each other. A woman lulls a drowsy baby in her arms, while fumbling with a half eaten hot dog and a bunch of blue and red balloons.

Sometimes nothing can make you feel more alone than watching a place getting emptied of life. The lights being turned off one by one. Shutters being pulled down as people are done for the day. Keys rattle in their fingers as they hum their way home.

The lights of all the stores are slowly dying out and the few people still lingering on the boardwalk are finally leaving, though reluctantly. I gaze at the wagon wheel, still so bright and quiet. Flashes of memories come rushing back- our first picture in the photo booth, our first shared cotton candy-the last left at the stall, the locket whose pendant I still carry with me, our first go at the sledgehammer and how I scored higher.

A smile crept my face.

Sometimes I think the easier the solution to a problem is, the harder it is to fix it. Because we cannot come in terms with the simplicity of it. The answer is right there, facing us, but we choose to look away. How can it be that easy? So we keep avoiding it, until one day, there’s nothing left to avoid.

And because we, as a specie have a habit of never trying hard enough, we hold on to things that are left- things that still connect the two. Like frail, cold ashes of a fire that once burnt bright. Something that once was a part of both of us.

Like our memories here at Coney Island. Maybe that’s why I come here often; in search of some happy memory that, at some juncture of life, was shared and cherished by us both.


Note- This post was in collaboration with the exceptionally talented photographer and my very good friend on WordPress, Robert Doyle. I never understood the practicalities of photography enough to appreciate the technical prowess behind them, until I saw his work. I’ve been a great admirer of his pictures, solely because they are poignant, deep and tend to speak to you in someway.

When Robert first uploaded this on Instagram, I couldn’t stop staring at it. I was immediately pulled inside the picture, melancholy and nostalgia oozing from it. When I write such fictional pieces, like the ones I’ve written in the past, I always picture them happening in a similar backdrop. A warm twilight caressed with cool gusts of wind and a bunch of lights twinkling somewhere in the distance. Pictures that can make you feel the weight of being human.

So when the opportunity arose, I decided to collaborate with Robert and write a small narrative inspired by this beautiful image.

The story you read above, is taking place inside this picture. Our protagonist is sitting on the bench you see on the left side. Hope you enjoyed it and please do visit my friend’s blog.

 

Love always,

your blogger.

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13 thoughts on “An Evening at Coney Island

  1. Wow…just wow! Regardless of the photo I am awestruck by your writing. You made these characters come to life in such a meaningful way. I will be reading this many times because it really is quite special. Of course I am also thrilled that a photo of mine could inspire you in such a way! Thank you for your extremely generous words Aakansha! You summed up my photography in a way that I cannot even do. It is a pleasure knowing that someone so far away can understand this other part of me in such a way. Thank you so much! 😄

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Absolutely beautiful.
    Your fictional pieces are like small chapters of a novel I’d love to read. They’re soothing to the mind, I don’t know why.
    Please start writing a book Aakansha. We need to read more of your imagination.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I don’t even know what to say.
      There are people in my life who’ve reminded me several times to start writing a book. And I have tried, once or twice. But somehow, every time I sit in front of a white screen, something tells me it isn’t the right time yet. That there are experiences yet to happen to me. Like a flower that hasn’t completely bloomed but is in the process; swollen and fragile.
      So I’m waiting for that final calling and trust me when it comes, my pen won’t stop.

      Until then, you can hold onto this blog. 🙂

      And thank you for those words, they boost my morale.

      Like

  3. “Keys rattle in their fingers as they hum their way home.” Such intricate details intermeshed with the implicit happenings of the character, makes the fiction feel real. It’s like we are there in the scene, yet we have the freedom to interpret. It’s beautiful Aakansha, really beautiful 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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