Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Dancing in Dreams

Thick eyelashes rested gently upon the silken smoothness of her creamy cheeks. The night winds stilled to coordinate their dance to the rhythmic rise and fall of her slumbering chest. Invisible angels guarded the doors to her dreams, lest some unwanted warrior thoughts break the spell of this dream.

This dream which repeated itself every month on the same night. For on this night, twenty four months ago, she had turned her back on the one she loved, without realizing that she had indeed loved him. And every day since, with the streak of veal announcing the departure of a cumbersome night, she had woken up knowing that she had lost on love. The agony of life was painted with invisible ink in the form of scars on her memory. Moments which refused to be erased with the advent of newer ones. Incidents which embedded themselves with startling clarity in the soft creases of her shaken mind, and which sprang forth unannounced, taking her by surprise. Pain laced with knowledge reminded her she could still feel.

This dream was a respite. When unwittingly she slipped from reality into the arms of love. His arms. She knew exactly how she would feel once in his embrace. Like a million butterflies had carried the golden dust of an autumn sun on their velvet wings. And he would hold her like that for as long as she wanted him to. She wanted to be held forever.

Yet even in her dream, she knew that this dream was bound to end. Clutching desperately at his shoulder she would lift her eyes to his face, daring all the love she held for him to shine through her eyes. She never spoke in her dreams. Words could shatter a spell. She willed him to understand her love. She willed him to forgive. She willed him to realize that she would never love again.

“Wrong again, my love,” he whispered. She fluttered her eyes in confusion. Why did he sound so different? And wasn’t this supposed to be a silent dream? Why did he talk then?

Before she could part her lips to speak, he rested a feathered finger on her lips. Through the blinding halo which surrounded his angelic face, she sought his eyes. The strength of his halo blinded her. She blinked. Then she squeezed her eyes shut. The butterflies were flapping their wings in such agony that their flapping sounded like the thunder ready to split the sky.

“Once again you make the mistake of loving but not knowing that you do,” he whispered as he lowered his cold lips to hers.

And then he was gone. So were the butterflies. But the sun-kissed warmth lingered behind. She searched her dream high and low, she even called his name. But this time she found herself all alone.

Maybe not.

If she stretched her dream little more, she could envelope the hazy silhouette dancing on the fringes. The silhouette was dancing hypnotically. Like it had a song of its own which the world wouldn’t know. She moved towards it. It was a man. Dancing alone to the songs of broken love and a heart forlorn. Yet he was happy. Happy to be dancing to a tune of his own.
She walked towards him, her own feet as light as air. Her left foot already tapping a rhythm in sync with his. He did not stop, but he took her hand in his and together they danced under strawberry skies and honeyed winds. They danced for love. Lost and won. They danced for life. The one gone by and the one just begun.

Two strangers, not so strange anymore, dancing in dreams, dancing to dance some more.

The angels left them to their dance. The skies were changing color, the night was taking leave to go. They hesitated for a moment and then kissed her sleeping form. They had a feeling they might need to guard her dreams no more.

He followed their kiss, with one of his own .

She fluttered sleepy eyes to his loving face as he whispered, “Good Morning, love.”

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Wood Logged

“I have to be totally insane to be doing this!” she giggled as she pulled the sheet over her breasts. He leaned over and nibbled at her soft earlobe. She giggled again.

“Either that,” he said as he trailed kisses down her slender neck, “or insanely in love!”

“That too,” she purred as she let go off the sheet and wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him closer.

“I don’t believe you haven't told anybody about this!” he said as he traced her collarbone with the tip of his tongue. She arched herself towards him, encouraging his explorations.

“You were right,” she purred, “nobody would have approved.”

He dug his hand into her thick black hair and tilted her face towards him. With his thumb he traced the outline of her lower lip, “So everybody think you are attending a conference in Milan?”

In response she wrapped her lips around his exploring thumb and sucked on it. It was his turn to smile. “And what do people at work believe?” he asked mischievously.

“That,” she leaned closer to him, her lips a breath away from his, “I have a family function to attend.” With that she sealed any further conversation by taking his lips firmly between hers.

The eerie stillness outside the wooden cabin was a striking contrast to the roaring passion inside. The trees stood in silhouetted dread against the morbid background of a starless grey sky. Despite the chill, there was nothing to stir the pointed leaves which ached to flutter to ground and bury themselves in the same dirty soil they once rose from. For miles around there was nothing but a thicket which stood as dead as a cemetery. And an everlasting chill.

A thin sheen of sweat highlighted their abandoned passion. They lay down beside each other, staring at the ceiling. Minds devoid of all thought and bodies alive with the sensation of being loved.

“That’s weird,” she said breaking the silence. “I don’t even hear a cricket!”

“It’s too cold for the cricket to be making noises,” he explained.

“What are we doing out here, all by ourselves, cut away from this world, in this cabin of yours?” she smiled and snuggled closer to him.

“Rediscovering love,” he wrapped an arm around her. “You know that was a dangerous thing to do,” she said seriously.

“What was?” she asked staring at him in confusion.

“Coming here without telling a soul about where you were going to be,” he explained. She scoffed. “What if I was a serial killer or something. And this cabin was a place where I got women and then murdered them.”

“Are you?”

“Let’s say I am!”

“Then when you murder me, would it be like a gruesome form of murder, or would you make it painless.”

“Oh I would keep it gruesome. I would torture you and get off on that expression of naked fear in your eyes. It’s how serial killers operate. Didn’t you know?”

She raised herself on her elbows and looked at him. “Ok now you are scaring me,” she laughed nervously.

“The scared you are, the better for me,” he eyed her steadily.

“This is absurd!” she got off the bed and pulled the sheet around her. “You think this is a joke?” she shouted at him. “You get me all the way here, to some godforsaken place and start talking all this psychotic bull shit with me!” She exited the room.

He shook his head and laughed. He got off the bed and pulled on his boxers. “Sweetheart,” he shouted to her, “ You know I was just kidding! I love you !” He followed her to the kitchen. “Ok, I am sorry. I know I took that joke a little too far. Talk to me…”

She turned around with the meat knife grasped firmly in her hand. A small sad smile danced on her just-kissed lips. “Look,” he reasoned with her, “I am no serial killer and you don’t need to get that defensive. Put that knife down.”

“Ok!” she laughed and struck the knife in stomach.

“Ok!” she laughed again as she pulled the knife out. His eyes widened as he registered the blood flowing through the fingers of his clasped hands.

“Ok!” she laughed as she plunged the knife into his chest.

“Ok!” she laughed as she plunged the knife through his ribs.

“Ok! Ok! Ok!”

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

All Is Well That Ends Well..

The chill in the air was freezing... Reaching his bones and icing his marrow.. And after a long day's work in which his only respite was a cup of rancid coffee..

The day had started off bad.. Missed breakfast as there was no way he could have made it to the office in time after getting up so late... Got stuck in a traffic jam due to the fog.. Reached an hour late for a presentation to the client.. An hour late!!! He knew the loss of the client will be squarely blamed on him, when the presentation itself was pathetic and could hold no client interested even if there was Shakira doing a belly dance on the tunes of Waka Waka for them after the presentation...

In the cafeteria, an over-zealous cleaner cleaned his tiffin dabba off the table before he could taste a morsel of the aloo parathas the PG aunty had packed for him, while he had gone to pick up a spoon.. Disgusted, he decided not to eat anything at all..

And then, the dressing down in the office of the boss!! As expected, the morning debacle was blamed squarely on him... And what was more, he was assigned one more report to make and submit by the next morning.. And the stupid phone had to ring at precisely the moment when the boss was just about seeing the merit of his arguments vis-a-vis the presentation.. How he hated these Bajaj Allianz insurance people at that point in time!!!

So, being the last one out of office, correction last but one before the guard, he was trudging his weary way back home in the late evening hours... Once back to his room, he picked up the newspaper and was about to call the PG aunty for dinner when he saw the stick on pasted on the smiling photo of Sachin Tendulkar on the front page that told him to fend for his own dinner that night as aunty had to go to some stupid wedding!!!

He just picked up the newspaper and started going over it, from one end to the other... And somewhere inbetween the advertisements for a "personal massage at your home" he found something that made his day!! Or rather, his night!!

Immediately, he set down on the task at hand.. A few punches of some buttons on an otherwise meaningless jumble of wires and chips later, he was ready... And boy, was it as good as promised?? Precisely two minutes later, as he opened the door, the aroma wafting into his nostrils made him go weak in the knees... The sight was, if possible, even more delicious.. Could anything on this earth give a single man more joy?? Surely, this must be the best creation God could have ever come up with... So smooth, so enticing... As he opened his mouth to taste the forbidden fruit, so to speak, he literally felt he was in heaven itself...

Inbetween his umm's and aah's, the only other thing he thought was - He was lucky to have with him on this winter night, a packet of Maggi...