Little somethings

February 25, 2006 at 11:16 am (Snippet)

Her hair leaps into my hands, clinging to the plastic comb she hates. I let it go and immediately, like blown by some unseen wind, it rushes to cover her small round face. The cackle of static electricity sounds as I swap the comb for the hairbrush and run it through the length of the hair. There are no knots, but I continue brushing. Her little face shows extreme impatience, and she’s begun to shift around uncomfortably in the high backed wooden chair she sits on.

Hold still, I murmur, enjoying the smooth silky hair, but she won’t. She is too anxious to be off. Her mother had leaned into the strokes. Her mother was a little lady, unlike this one, who was tomboy if I ever saw one.

Enough, please! Comes her still sharp voice, and she jumps off the chair. Her legs had dangled well off the floor when seated. She grabs my hands, the contrast of my dry wrinkled calloused hands – softened by time alone – and her pink fat little hands strikes me suddenly. I feel old. She suddenly kisses my hands and takes off, to her friends. To her life.

~*~*~*~

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Even IF

February 18, 2006 at 1:18 pm (RL)

Do you see the moon today? Such celestial beauty cures all pain.. think of it, that little white sliver of silver shines sedately over and over me… and there is a connection – can you not feel it? Across the miles and through the fabric of time…
Can you not see it?

And even if the storm were to brew as it threatens to, out of sight, out of earshot, even if the clouds were chased across that sky to cover that crescent symbol of peace and harmony, you know that the beauty hides there, waiting to be revealed, if only one would put aside that pain and look.
My body tingles with electricity, and look, the plants feel it too. A shiver passes through them, as if they are telepathic and empathic, I can hear them echo the sigh that I release. Was it a shudder? A release? A relief? A moment of respite?
It is so still, it seems as if time has stopped for me, for this moment, just so I can pause, take a breath and … miss you. Why have I been running myself ragged? Does enough action help me not to think?
I miss you.

And even if this is the dead calm before the storm, and the whole world suffers tumultuous change, even if I get up now that my cup of coffee is over and leave to the familiar world of cement and concrete and men who act as strangers would, I’ll know I had that moment to cherish all those memories, on this lonely bench in the middle of a park, surrounded by high walls…
I feel tied to the trees, the bushes, the little pink-white flowers and bow their heads and wait for the opening of the jasmine in the time between twilight and true night, knowing they will be overshadowed by the blooming queen of the night, knowing that their time is past, and yet waiting patiently as nothing else changes…
Tied to the teak that I sit on, the land, the air that does not stir and carries with it the faintest traces of chill, cold decision – is it contempt? Is it malice? Is it just what is, and for me to take as it comes? Weightless, and yet so heavy that it bears me down, though in this moment, I am free from responsibility and those bonds that I wear willingly. I soar. Into yesterday, and what was.
When I leave, I know I will put this behind me, I fell no longer feel as I do now, this instant, but I will not forget. The magic is as much with the place and the time and the state of being as it is to me – whole of the cosmos – yes, even that I can see the Orion clearly and not the pole star at all – as much as it is with me, and I do not wish to leave this enchanted stop. But I will.
Someone told me ‘don’t cry because it is over, smile because it was.’ And even if you don’t, I will.
I promise, my friend, I will.
I do miss you.
~*~*~*~

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XX

February 8, 2006 at 4:07 pm (RL)

Twenty years up, and as anyone with Google or perhaps the right statistics can tell you – as an Indian Woman, I have 46.66 years to go. That’s one third gone… Today doesn’t feel any different from yesterday or the day before, but one more to the counter that man created when he chopped up time into what he considered as regular intervals. No earth shattering changes, no reassessment of life and a change in the way I live or am treated, really.

People change. Fact of life. People ought to grow. And I certainly hope that I have. Grown, that is.

Two decades spent here, and it's been unbelievable. That seems like so long to have invested in one project, in one item, one life. Then you look back, and wonder, where did time fly? Here I am, and I have spent that much… And you know the best part? I have just begun.

So yeah. I've hardly wished anyone on their birthday on time. No reason why I should be an exception.
Happy Birthday to me.
Belated, of course.

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Summit

February 8, 2006 at 8:05 am (Snippet)

My hands are cut. I have assorted aches and pains and bruises that will complain later, tonight, but for now they can be ignored. The nettle has given me shallow gashes in so many places that I have lost count. The grass – bearing short thorns – is almost taller than I am. If the trip up was scary, I can’t imagine what the trip down will be like. Most likely I will roll like the little balloon I have become, and hopefully not damage any vital organs. Meanwhile, I let my hands and arms take the brunt of the scratches, I am mortally afraid of a thorn entering my eyes. But that is in the beginning. As we go higher, the sun becomes fiercer, and I lose fear. All there is, is the line of people behind me and the few in front. We keep moving, though the muscles in my legs are crying for a stop, a break. I know they will begin cramping when I do stop, and we do not intend to stop till we reach the summit.
Friendly banter continues somewhere behind me, somehow, today I have not the heart to join in. I am terrible at the whole hill climbing, physical activity front, and so the one right in front of my keeps checking and making sure I’m still alive. The one behind leaves enough space for me to back up if I have taken a path that is too difficult for me. I know that there are rips in my jeans – jeans for Christ’s sakes! This is entirely the wrong season to have gone trekking… but I enjoy the exertion. At some point, the wind becomes a huge factor, tugging, pulling, yanking. We tease a painfully thin friend that we don’t want her to fly off into the horizon. She clings on tenaciously. Finally, the company gives. There are too many of us inexperienced climbers to go up the last quarter. We all collapse where we stand, for more than fifteen minutes. Then we turn and go down, spider like, leaning as far back as we can. Defeated, but not forever. The summit still waits.

~*~*~*~

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