Love in Sweltering heat
Love is beautiful. It sounds contrived but seriously, it makes so much sense to me, especially now as I find myself lost in her. Some say The One is the reason for my existence but they are folk who haven't seen her. To me she is The One; the beginning and end of everything.
She has one of those wonderful smiles that lights up the entire space. No wait! That's another one of those contrived sentences picked up from a book. I looked over the shoulder of a girl reading a novel the other day and the line caught my attention. Why does Love make me so happy and light yet brings out the worst of my poetic self?
How long have I been in love, you ask? From the moment she smiled at my antics I've been smitten. Last week, I pushed a lock of her hair, more a tease than a taunt. She smiled indulgently and pushed it back behind her ear. On some days when I am at my naughtiest best, I pull her dupatta but the second I see her biting her lower lip in a struggle to wrench it from me, I give up. She looks so vulnerable it pains me.
And I know she misses me if I am not around. Take yesterday for instance, it was the hottest day in Madras. Not a soul was out and nor was I. I did have my duties to attend to but I preferred cooling my heels inside than venture in that unforgiving heat. But she was out, my unlucky angel, draped in a cotton salwar which unsuccessfully did nothing to ease the heat. Her eyes, usually bright and lively, were dull and looking towards the distance, as if searching for someone. Who else? Me, of course.
For a moment, I thought I should go and swoop her in my arms and relieve her stress but my work was not in that area. If someone knew I was working places not in my schedule, I would be in serious trouble. So I stayed at my spot and just looked. Tomorrow, I can meet her. Oh! How I long to surprise her when she least expects me.
I couldn't sit still all night. I roamed the streets, singing and dancing, making the neighbours smile in their sleep. Somehow in Madras, noone ever begrudges my singing or dancing! The day finally dawned and I ran to the bus stop to meet her, knocking a couple of bicycles on the way. I'll treat those kids later. As I arrived closer to her, I stopped dead in my tracks. She wasn't alone. And she wasn't looking out for me either. She was holding hands and laughing with another man. My angel with another man?
I stood rooted to my spot and stared at them. I saw the silly boy take out a letter from his pocket and give her. That's when something snapped within me. A mad rage filled my mind and I charged towards them and snatched the letter. "Nobody gives a letter to My Love", I snapped and rushed away.
As I walked away, I heard my angel shout, "Aiyyo, somebody catch hold of that paper please!The wind just blew it away". I turned back and watched as they tried to grab the paper from my hands. I smiled.
She has one of those wonderful smiles that lights up the entire space. No wait! That's another one of those contrived sentences picked up from a book. I looked over the shoulder of a girl reading a novel the other day and the line caught my attention. Why does Love make me so happy and light yet brings out the worst of my poetic self?
How long have I been in love, you ask? From the moment she smiled at my antics I've been smitten. Last week, I pushed a lock of her hair, more a tease than a taunt. She smiled indulgently and pushed it back behind her ear. On some days when I am at my naughtiest best, I pull her dupatta but the second I see her biting her lower lip in a struggle to wrench it from me, I give up. She looks so vulnerable it pains me.
And I know she misses me if I am not around. Take yesterday for instance, it was the hottest day in Madras. Not a soul was out and nor was I. I did have my duties to attend to but I preferred cooling my heels inside than venture in that unforgiving heat. But she was out, my unlucky angel, draped in a cotton salwar which unsuccessfully did nothing to ease the heat. Her eyes, usually bright and lively, were dull and looking towards the distance, as if searching for someone. Who else? Me, of course.
For a moment, I thought I should go and swoop her in my arms and relieve her stress but my work was not in that area. If someone knew I was working places not in my schedule, I would be in serious trouble. So I stayed at my spot and just looked. Tomorrow, I can meet her. Oh! How I long to surprise her when she least expects me.
I couldn't sit still all night. I roamed the streets, singing and dancing, making the neighbours smile in their sleep. Somehow in Madras, noone ever begrudges my singing or dancing! The day finally dawned and I ran to the bus stop to meet her, knocking a couple of bicycles on the way. I'll treat those kids later. As I arrived closer to her, I stopped dead in my tracks. She wasn't alone. And she wasn't looking out for me either. She was holding hands and laughing with another man. My angel with another man?
I stood rooted to my spot and stared at them. I saw the silly boy take out a letter from his pocket and give her. That's when something snapped within me. A mad rage filled my mind and I charged towards them and snatched the letter. "Nobody gives a letter to My Love", I snapped and rushed away.
As I walked away, I heard my angel shout, "Aiyyo, somebody catch hold of that paper please!The wind just blew it away". I turned back and watched as they tried to grab the paper from my hands. I smiled.
posted by Kumari at 1:45 PM
1 Comments:
"My angel with another man?"
Somehow I feel wind is a woman, with its nagging ways, moody ways(although thr r bigtime moody boys too!), howling ways, ups and downs, hot and cool...
Althou, all thsoe poets and our ancient writers and now even you, imagine the wind as a man...
Btw, Thanks for being back, we will tolerate your disappearing act only if u return! Err... y does that statement sound so weird!?
Post a Comment
<< Home