Wednesday, May 23, 2007

So Soft, This Goodbye...


She slipped a piece of the dark night sky into her pocket, and lifted herself to the rain… she glided like a forest breeze, her arms outstretched, and her eyes wide shut, this was the first downpour of the season, and an end to all that had been…

10…9…8… “Are you enjoying this?” his eyes were earnest and questioning, perhaps the question was a ruse to hold her gaze, “Yes… I am…” a soft smile, a hidden sigh, 7…6…5…4… “Get ready now, it is almost here…” he pressed her hands and smiled…3…2…1… loud cheers and a hundred voices shouting ‘Happy new year…’ The lights blinded both of them and then began the fireworks, the sky blazed like a magician’s cloak and the purple folds of the night melted away…

The smell of wet earth inched its way into her skin, into her hair… it spread magic on her heaving chest, and she swayed herself to the beat of the raindrops as she sashayed down the street in a trance…

The cigarette smoke dimmed his face, dimmed her sight, dimmed the voices that surrounded the two, the drink sparkled like a diamond sky, the smell of love and lust, the whiff of momentary lapse of reason in the realm of thoughts, and there were smiles and ‘thank yous’ when the sky seeped in through the dusty floor and enveloped their corner table to hide them behind a cloud of smoke rings, behind verses, behind the laughter of the invisible God who shielded them thus…

Not for once did she open her eyes; her naked feet were caked with mud… the street lamps gaped at her dancing form, sketching patterns of surreal imaginings, while the throbbing rain merged easily into darkness and light and the lake was lit with the golden daggers of reflecting stars… and she relived her past.

And she talked of broken rainbows and poisoned dreams, of that circus to which she had recently been, where the fire rings had singed the tigers and made the clowns weep, of the paper roses she had made for him…
His eyes seemed earnest as he drank it in, a smile hovering on the corners of his lips, he sighed and patted her clenched hands and he too began to speak, he spoke of dreams that had clung to her lashes when morning peeped in through her curtains last day, of clowns who rode the cycling elephant, of the paper roses that could not be pressed…

She winced for a moment as her fingers traced a purple wound along her neck, and she tilted her head, letting the rain wash the dried blood as she shivered in paroxysmal bliss. A lightening streaked the sky’s womb and she looked on with her elusive eyes, a shadow lurking beneath her iris of madness…

“But it was not love” she protested, without adding a reason to her argument
“I surrendered in the haze of the moonlight to the painter’s whims… shallow and unreal… ah, caring for you reduced me to being this beast of burden…”
He looked on with confusion firmly in place, no disgruntled sighs, and no sound of his broken heart echoed in her mind, perhaps because it did not break, even as he percieved a part of his life breaking into uncertain fragments… “But when did I burden you…”
She cut him off with that familiar wave of hand and spoke in an uninterrupted flow of words, she cried, “What do want to know? How loving you drenched me cold sweat all night, when I might have died for the want of a little warmth? How loving you left me empty, vacant…and I kept praying for a gesture of reciprocation, an assurance of what I thought had been love…"
His tousled hair drifted into oblivion as his words rang in the disturbed air, “How could I know… these words never crossed your lips before…”
“And they do not matter anymore…” Her lips parted in a relieved smile. “What designs did you have for me? Or does my imagination lend fire to the starry nights… What does it matter anymore indeed?” The words died a soft death on her lips and she left as she had come to him, carried in a poisoned dream… reducing him to a vague level of familiarity…


“But I am happy tonight…” she whispered to the drenched circle of lights, she caressed the self inflicted wound, a sign of memories that could have been, and she slipped a piece of the dark night sky into her pocket and lifted herself to the rain…

13 comments:

Jadice said...

This particular post has haunted me since last night...when this blogger made me read it for the first time...
The theme is chilling and the expression is sublime!
But what I liked the most about this post was its format...fresh and innovative!

Atta girl Anu!

Sunshine gal said...

Innovative and Original..This piece is hauntingly beautiful!!! Too Good as usual....

anurima said...

@jadice and sunshine gal: thank you, hope i will not be taking another unimaginably long hiatus heh heh...

Sharad Mathur said...

wow..
beautiful description :)

sharad

Jijo said...

I sincerely believe Art is what makes a few apparently Ordinary Moments Immortal. Artists can universalize their personal Experiences and channelize them into some thing Artistic, some thing more than just a few Moments like a handful of Dust. Artists have it in them to make People relate. and U succeed in doing so exactly. I would like to see U Try Your hands at slightly larger forms. I Think U'll do Wonders. Your language is immensely Poetic and sumhow reminds Me of Arundhati Roy. Kudos!

Inam said...

loved the control over imagery...overwhelming when needed and restrained otherwise...the 'circus' symbolism with 'singed tigers' and 'weeping clowns' has been integrated well into the story...defamiliarizes the setting...cheers!!!

Suki said...

Whoa girl... as usual, awesome imagery and control over words.

But why so dark, I keep asking you? There's so much happiness in the world, look at it. Open your eyes, see the beauty. I would love to see you writing a picture of something beautiful.

anurima said...

@jijo: Thank you :)

@Inam: Thank you :)

@Suki: This is not really dark, infact this particular piece is grey...moving towards lighter shades. This story is more about catharsis, and not just loss and despair...

Sharad Mathur said...

beautifully written!!

nice post
sharad

Lost Poet said...

I love the night time imagery.

And the construction of it is really nice. Reminds me of Stream of consciousness.

Beautiful post. :)

Lost Poet said...

I meant beautiful Piece. Sorry, words getting jumbled in my head. Guess m jus' sleepy :D!

Arse Poetica said...

Ei aar likhish na keno?Phuke phuke bhule geli naki?

anurima said...

Dhoirjyo dhoro.
Phukchi ney. :P