Day #15

This is a part of a mini-series of independent posts, starting here

With worry in her eyes,

‘I haven’t given you permission to leave..’

With duty in his voice,

‘With respect, Your Grace, I don’t need your permission. I am a king (silence). And I came here, knowing that you could have your men behead me or your dragons burn me alive. I put my trust in you – a stranger. Because I knew it was the best chance for my people; for all our people. Now I’m asking you, to trust in a stranger. Because it’s our best chance’

Is this one of the finest love letters of medieval times, or what? (*.*)

Day #14

This is a part of a mini-series of independent posts, starting here

I am prone to strange and fleeting obsessions (oxymoron spotted!) On a trip to Kenya a while back while in a boat safari in Lake Naivasha, I encountered an unlikely one. This big guy:

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Unlikely, indeed. But I was fascinated by the fact our guide whipped out about the hippo being the deadliest killer of humans in Africa; something which I was woefully unaware of. As we neared the hippo harem, our captain looked genuinely concerned. And why not, the hippo does happen to have a bad(ass) rep. What with them carving out humans who disrespectfully cross into their territory. (I wonder what other high-functioning mammalian species tends to do that a lot.) As we crossed the bloat of hippos, the alpha opened up his huge mouth baring his teeth; there was something just awe-inspiring about it! So today, I set out to do some PR on behalf of the not-at-all-gentle giant who most likely doesn’t care about some puny human out to improve the way he is perceived (And that’s what makes him all the more admirable IMO)

Let me start off with their “cute” side: First off, have you ever seen the hippo swim? Probably not, else you wouldn’t be alive & kicking to see this. Of course, you don’t want him chasing you around while he does his daily bit of cardio. Or, have you seen them eating? Or, wiggle-waggle as he runs (better a spectator, than a competitor) Or, seen a baby chase around a full-grown crocodile? Or, just observed a baby sleep?

Makes you wanna go kidnap a baby hippo, doesn’t it? Don’t. Coz a) it’s illegal, b) it will shred you one day, and c) the logistics just don’t work! I’ll explain C in a bit more detail. See, I have thought it through. First, you’ll have to get a huge bathtub, where the hippo would sit in all day peering out like an iceberg. And I mean huge. POTUS knows best.

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Let’s say you are fine with the tub thing, you need to get some grass, man. Like a-few-tonnes-a-day kind of grass. Need to make sure the big guy stays a herbivore eh? Plus, imagine him getting out of his tub and spraying it around every now and then. Ugh. One puppy, please.

Anyways, the guy is still the king of kings. I leave you with proof

Friendship

Friends are your horcruxes. They are your vessels which carry memories and experiences that you have shared and lived with them, things that you have told them, secrets that you have fessed up to them; they are the ones peering into the canisters of your dreams and aspirations that you have eagerly opened up for them, the ones staring into the dark with you to find the rays of hope that you desperately seek, the ones who will lift your spirits from crests and troughs alike; they will be the ear lent in your agony, they will be the lip that comes forth in your solitude, they will be your partners in anxiety and your associates in joviality. They are your vessels, your time capsules, your diaries, your journals, your recorders, your audience; they are the pages that tell about you in a history book, they are the ones with the illustrations and the trivia at your wedding, they are the ones who will show you off to your grandkids, they are ones who will be there by your bed. They are the little embodiments of moral support, of help, of love that you pray to have by your side, each night before you close your eyes.

And you, in turn, are theirs…

Dedicated to a friend more special than a fancy groupon-ed Sunday breakfast 🙂

Haiku

I came across a beautiful form of poetry I didn’t know of before. Thought I’d give it a couple of shots.

I am a novice at this, suggestions are most welcome and most appreciated! 🙂

——

Look into her eyes
I Search for a future
But see the past

——

The smell of rice
Imagined as if were true
My stomach bellows

——

Near the deep end
Of a river too fast
Feet slip away

——

Ant crawls
Grain of sugar on its back
The fit survive

——

Thank you.

Imperfectly perfect

Something I wrote for someone I felt some things, some time back –
(A few things would be probably a little personal; but hey,what the hell.)

Qualities scrutinised
Quirks that are perfectly good
Every person has some
& So do you…

But now that I think about them
I can recall none
I speculate as to why
And the answer dawns, clear as the sun

Hard to believe it might be
Seeing how I have strayed from this Frequently & Unabashedly
But I wish I could explain

How to my four lenses
You are the embodiment
Of a creature truly magnificent

Not perfect, mind you.
Not a square block
But a piece of a puzzle
One I’d be lucky to solve

From the net balance of your beauty
In my head that I have,
Your minuses you have helped subtract
And positives you have helped add!

& Yes,

Differences we have had
And fights we have fought
Yet I wouldn’t give up our imperfection
For all the peace in the world

I wish at times
I could be more perfect
More compatible
More compassionate

Yet there’s an echo in my head
One I heard from a planet massive Be what you are
Cos that would be perfect! 🙂

The Royal Ramble

How strange it is to look at two people and feel bad. You have nothing to go on, but the illusion of happiness on their part. No underlying asset, just an inflated bubble based solely on the biased, hopeful expectations of the only two investors involved in the seemingly happy illusion.

And how strange to look at this happiness and feel bad, to feel guilt and in times of desperation and momentary lapses of holding it all together – regret and remorse. It is no crime really to be single, yet why do i feel like a criminal? Why do i feel like i am being treated unjustly by society at large and my facebook feed in particular?

Why isn’t it that singledom receive as much adulation as the opposite? Why not pat someone on the back when they explore themselves by looking inside rather than through projecting themselves onto a person and making him/her responsible for helping them out? Why can’t we just form pacts that say “Well, we are sorted. At least sorted enough. I’m willing to work on my issues on my own; could use a hand though. Hope yours is steady and strong. Would you like mine?” and just ……

And why is this so difficult? Why does being in a relationship require so much effort and energy and passion and compassion and love and trust and honesty and courtesy and mannerisms and pretenses and secrets and hatred and tension and fights….. And love….

And yet the moment you are out of one and are convinced that an autogamous relationship is the one for you, the thoughts pop right back up? Aren’t babies smarter than us then? Granted they won’t listen to you when you “tell” them the stove is hot, but once they have had egos shot down by the scalding burns, they learn and they remember; they evolve. So if we still don’t “learn”, and yet somehow we have managed to evolve as a species – despite this clear lack of knowledge transference from HR downstairs to the big guy up top – must there be an answer?

Could it be then that –
a) we are not evolving &
b) we “are” learning.
Examples for (a) abound of course. You see them daily – in offices you work in, in music videos, on TV,  in the streets where you drive, in cars while you cross the road, in your head. Let’s just put that aside for a second and attribute the above tirade to personal experiences and a general bias and superiority complex that a certain someone might have. *ahem*

Assuming, we are *cough* evolving *cough*, we are left with option (b). So what do we really learn then? We learn that we are not compatible with a certain type of person. We learn that it won’t work out with them. We learn (or convince ourselves) that there are many many different varieties out there. “One of them must be my size after all! Lemme try a few.”

And of course, while such go getters go ahead and, well, get (?), lazy rambling writers get nowhere with their philosophies seeing that they are lazy, rambling, pathologically curious, philosophical, mind numbingly recalcitrant, grandiloquently pompous show-offs. Condemned to be extinct – Save a writer, you know what to do.

The Ideal

I’d like to go on the ideal date once. Mine would be simple.

I make arrangements for dinner in a black-tie restaurant at 8. I show up early, dressed as immaculately as conceivable to me, wearing that favourite tie that she likes so much. I wait for her a little; she is a little busy with her work life nowadays, what with a big promotion coming her way! Ambition has its costs, after all.

She arrives at 8.15, dressed in something I had bought for her as a birthday present. A red evening gown. She looks drop dead gorgeous. I had imagined she would, fantasized about this moment when I first see her in the dress, over & over, but no figment of imagination matched what I was seeing right in front of me. As the patron leads her towards our table, she catches my gaze, and her face lights up. That smile. I get up without a second thought, walk towards her, hold her hand and we walk towards the table as one. I pull up the chair, she gets seated, and I am yet to take my eyes off her.

I can tell though that she is tired, slightly exhausted even. This is not going to be a night where she has to exert herself, I want to make it a special one for her. I have already pre-ordered a meal for her, all her favourites, right from the Ravioli to the Sauvignon Blanc. One by one, it all arrives and we look hungrily, at the food, & at each other. It’s been some time.

We dig in, eating dignifiedly, calmly, yet with a stormy fire raging between our eyes. I remember well the last night we had together. It was good like it has always been. But, there was something off. And I knew what. Her work keeping her busy, her life goals, her future achievements coming temporarily in the way of happiness for her. But I wanted to make it better for her. She deserved some peace, God knows she did. This was going to be a special night for her, I had promised myself, and that was one promise I was planning on keeping to the very end.

I excuse myself for a minute, breaking off the searing glares between us, reluctantly, but necessarily. I have a call to make…

I get back and we finish up our meals, share a dessert. Things get strangely heated when she starts licking off the spoon, slowly, seductively, and with a knowing stare, and a minx-y smile on her lips. I manage a smile, a pull of the tie, a nervous pull-back-my-hair & a clearing of my parched throat. “Today, we drink”, I assure my thirst, a coy smile on my lips too.

We finish up with the dessert, have ourselves a toast, each imagining what the night seems to have in store for us. We make our way to the entrance and there stands a limo driver, ready to take us someplace special. She beams at me, hugs me, refrains from the kiss, mindful that it would overpower us. Patience has its charm too.

We get in, hand-in-hand and she lays her head on my shoulder. A tender, sweet gesture. I reciprocate. It feels like less of passion, more of innocence. She sweetly whispers into my ear, “Thank you for tonight, honey”, smiles and pecks me on the cheek. But I am still not done, and I keep smiling ear-to-ear.

We get off at our apartment building, a lonely place this time of the night, and we proceed to our flat, hand-in-hand, the passion re-igniting, second by second, step-by-step. But just as she is about to insert the key in the lock, I pull her away for a passionate kiss, right in the hallway. It lasts. Long. I break away after a few minutes, both of us pausing for breath, yet eager for more. But ‘tis not over yet, my darling, I keep repeating in my head.

Against her slight protests, I lead her to the terrace. It’s a full moon out tonight and the skies have always been beautiful this time of the year. The stars beam, the moon shines, but none come close to the glow I see on her face. I haven’t seen her this relaxed and calm in quite some time. I derive quite a lot of pleasure from this, just holding her in my arms and looking with her into the sky, into the depths of the universe, yet coming back again & again to see the serenity of her expressions. Her closed eyes, pursed lips and conspicuously calm breathing make for good gazing after all.

I hug her tight, never wanting this moment to end. Never wanting to let go. She loosens my grip, turns towards me, gazes right into my eyes. And right then, I know. I lean in slowly, knowingly, and she reciprocates. Our lips touch, caress. Not strong like lust would demand, but sweet and innocuous. Like the first kiss you might have with someone, when passion and lust haven’t yet sullied its childlike and pure emotion. We stay there, lips glued, minds boggled, bodies tingling, for what seems to be an eternity. An “I love you” passes between our lips. Love, the emotion we feel for each other. There is no need for words to express it. Feels like music to the ears however. And our embrace tightens. It’s been so long after all, but patience has its charm.

We break away and that coy expression is back on her face again. It’s going to be a long, long night…