“Do you think anyone would care if one day, out of the blue, the bridge just collapses?” she asked with a sense of nervousness, without looking at me. Her eyes were turned towards the sun setting over distant mountains to the west. At dusk, the woods below were a sight to behold. The changing tones of the sky brought this mysterious effect to the woods that gave it a certain aura. The woods looked alive.
“Most people probably wouldn’t care about it. They would read about it in the papers or hear about it from someone and maybe reminisce about the times they had used the bridge. But it would merely be a passing thought, in the mind for a minute or so before something else took over their concern. But to some people, who’ve lived around here, it would be devastating. Something that had been a part of their lives for years and years now turned to nothing but rubble. They would be reminded of the bridge and what it stood for every day. Even if a new bridge with sky high contraptions and a beautiful framework is built, it still wouldn’t be the same to them. They might continue on normally with their lives, but there would always be that niggling afterthought that reminded them that their lives aren’t the same anymore.”
What was I going on about? I was saying things that sounded completely insane. Those words didn’t even make sense to me. No one was ever going to care so much about a bridge. The bridge might have been significant but in the end, it was just a bridge. No one was going to weep over a 30-year-old run-down bridge.
Before I could figure out what was happening in my mind, she blurted "If the people around care so much for this bridge, why don’t they take care of it? I just have to glance at the bridge to notice multiple cracks and vegetation growing through the stone. If they cared so much, why haven’t they at least tried to fix it?”
“What look like glaring errors to your eyes often aren’t seen by others. They’ve looked at the same bridge over the years and to them, these errors aren’t so obvious. To them, these errors are an inherent part of the bridge itself. Even if a few try to fix these defects, in the end, those fixes are only temporary. But the most important thing is the fact that the bridge is still sturdy irrespective of these cracks and fissures.”
Again. Why did I continue to say things that I did not intend to? What was wrong with me?
While I was trying to figure out why I said what I said, I realised it had become completely silent. I couldn’t hear the woodpecker anymore. Night-time was approaching and being the diurnal creature that it was, it must have gone to sleep. I looked at her, expecting her to stare at me like I was a fool but she wasn’t looking at me. She was staring at her fingers which seemed to be shivering from the cold. There seemed to be a tranquillity about her now.