Take 1 :
They are just spies. I was one of them. A fugitive from recognition and the instant. Just as I was running away, I bumped into her. I asked myself, “Is there something I should know?” Through the snow, through the vacillation and through my eyes, I could see her. She was wearing a trench coat and carrying a bag full of groceries. My hands were trembling due to the cold but there she was, still and comforting.
She asked, ” Do you need any help? You seem quite shocked and cold. ”
She had quite a cockiness about herself but I wasn’t concentrating on her words. I could see her eyes flicker because of the snow falling on them. I could make out the little titillations. She was arresting.
Take 2 :
“Harf. Try to speak it with a little emotion, a little depth to your voice.” She was teaching some Urdu words to John in the old age home. Harf. I wish I could send her letters. Her eyes were the ink to my pen. Maybe John was just learning a new language, while for me she was the erudition of insight. I was peeping through the wooden panels and I could see her smiling. I could see her hold John’s hand and encourage him. I could see that she was deeply interested in helping people get through trouble and she was benevolent. I had to talk with her. Before leaving the place, I scratched her name on the wooden panel.
Take 3 :
Faster!! Faster! Get the tempo! Drop it! Pick up!
Hit, wait , hit, hit, hit, hit, hit, cymbal, crash ….. hit!
Drops of sweat falling on the drums, drops of blood on the drumsticks. It was his original piece. I can see you burning inside, I can feel your fingers getting numb but don’t stop. Don’t give up. I brought him a bucket of ice to cool his fragile fingers. Resting my head on his shoulders, I caressed his face. He was a passion to hard to tame, he was a fire to magnificent to quench. I could only hold his tender cheeks and calm his meteoric heart.
Sometimes love is a straightforward and contended virtue. I can sense that he wanted more from his life but he was my consciousness. Was it all a figment of my imagination? I could feel losing him. But as leaves cling to the branches of a beautiful tree, I was waiting for my autumn.
Take 4 :
The drop glided over her cheeks and down her lustrous neck. Rivers don’t look beautiful when they flow through prosaic terrains, what makes them graceful is meandering. The drop surreptitiously meandered along her neck stopping at times. There was a sphere around her. A sphere of nobility. I can’t wait till tomorrow. Whenever I saw her, it was a moment out of time for me. I knew she didn’t trust me. I was just an acquaintance for her. Yet I wanted to paint her on my canvas.
I could see her kneel down on the marble floor of the temple. Religion. A thin string of virtue holding her, a diverse culture she wanted to have. I kept following her through the narrow lacunae of the pillars. She was walking slowly touching the pillars. I could see her fingertips leaving trails of vermillion. Slowly but tantalizingly, she had enchanted me. All I could see were the loose ends of the strings tied around the pillars. Entangled hopes. Everlasting divinity.
Take 5 :
Speaking was never my strong suit. Here she was, standing confidently on the stage. Articulation- how elegant and persuasive she could be. All those words spoken seemed like maxims to me. There was a certain panache to her whenever it came to speaking in public. I could see her perfect curves and wondered whether she was just talking to me. I could feel the lights go out and a single cone of light fall on her. I was energetic, she was coherent. I was expressive, she was stoical. I was the fireworks, she was the midnight. I could perceive her words making a sinusoidal approach towards me. A crest, a trough. A high, a low. Her intonation were causing sweet palpitations of my heart. I could see her fixed and tenacious gaze on me. Had she cast a spell on me?
No.
Take 6 :
He left. I can see the door oscillating to and fro. Was it the end of love for me? I sipped the last glass of vodka from his glass and rushed out of my house.
I could see a cab standing idle at the corner of the street. “Take me to Retrospective.” He looks quite quite an old man. I just wish he drives me there as quickly as possible. Neon. Incandescent. Sound. Deafening. This is all I want right now. I want the cacophony of life to stab through my melancholy. I want to get high.
I yelled, ” Can’t you drive fast???”
Take 7 :
Only you. Amidst the sweat, smoke and loud music, I could see her dissolved in fire. She was dancing just like a tree sways in a strong gust of wind. I made my way through the sweaty crowds, people with high dreams but here they were relinquishing their sadness through the beats of music. I looked right at her. I went close to her and I could smell her mystique. She was burning inside, something beautiful. I put my hands around her waist and moved with her slowly. Her perfections, her body, her hair and her silence. We just moved with the symphony while people around us made their raucous dance. I tightened my grip on her and she put her head on my chest while the EDM just faded in the backdrop. I asked her, ” Where are you?” She was fading away but I had to hold on to her. She turned around and for a moment, I was lost in her tresses. I went close to her and touched her. I whispered in her ear, ” I don’t want either of us to forget this night.” I kissed her neck and we burnt together in the fire of desire. I could feel her muscles getting tightened with my fingers caressing her. She was the right instrument to play, so finely tuned, it only just needed the right chords to make the right sounds. She grabbed my hair and pulled me closer. I entangled my fingers around her fingers and I said, ” We are scared to be lonely.” Call us lewd and lascivious but we were being nonchalant. I was simply the imbecile moon revolving around her, Venus.
Sulphurous. Boiling. Erratic.
Take 8 :
Roll-1
A beautiful evening is what makes me question myself. Why did he leave? Does love always hurt?
Roll-2
Love is just like scent of a beautiful evening. Let it drift in through your window. You don’t have to chase it, all you have to do is breathe.
Roll-3
If it was perfect, why did it end? My body aches for you while I watch this still water gurgle inside.
Roll-4
The fog, thickened by the lake in its proximity had made blurred every detail. The ambiguity was punctured by the distant lights and I could make a faint outline of a person.
Roll-5
A glass of wine and I begin to think. I smile at a passerby and I feel my canvas getting ready to be painted again. Emotions. Grief, despair, happiness, love and madness. I can see people cycle cycle and laugh. Birds singing, bells ringing and I am treading almost candidly.
I have lost my way, but not heart.
Roll-6
I threw a stone in the water. I like the city during evenings. All the movements and all emotions amplified by the ever diminishing light. Even I was broken, but who isn’t? I caressed my passion for longing, the unquenchable desire to posses and the forbidden sweet. Hold a glass against the dying of light and you will find reflections of your inner self.
We weren’t meant to be together. We had seen a lot in life but hadn’t seen each other well. Did she want me? I would never know. Just as the stone creates ripples in these waters, those ripples carrying my romance and will, maybe life would turn it’s wheels one day. One day.
Take 9 :
I am heading home. Take care of Him and this city. Until tomorrow evening again, when I will roam.
I could see weakened waves in the water touch my feet. Maybe someone had thrown a stone in these waters.
karanvankani 