March 13, 2014, Thursday afternoon in a distant countryside where the sun hugs the sturdy mountains and embraces the vast, endless desert and where the sky has just shed some left tears to cleanse a profaned society and to refill hollow, void souls with some traces of hopes and glee. The sky wore the orange as the sun was amassing its shattered rays from the corners of the countryside and preparing to bid them farewell. Like a bashful girl who loses control of her over flown feelings in the first contact with an adept man to whom she has so long been curbing her emotions lest she might be accused or refused. The sun still peeps behind the mountain which guards the countryside which is like a princess who boasts her beauty and her dignity while ambling amidst her courtiers. A flock of birds were streaming and spreading above the school where a teacher was trying hard to inculcate in his students ‘minds the love for literature. cleansing the minds from the rubbish of trivialities and the dirt of decadent times is the most tiring role a man can endure. But he is still determined to fulfill this tough job albeit he seems knocking on a deaf man’s door. Anyway, the pleasure lies in the bifurcated, hard way to success not in success itself. For what shall he do if he fulfills all his ideas? Absolutely nothing. Standing in the room’s door and spreading his looks on the outer space, two pictures took his sight and obliged him to gaze and gaze and then be lost in a maze of bewildering thoughts which assaulted his mind and soul. The sky was still murky after a rainy, windy day and some left clouds were still roaming, looking for their lost pieces to recollect themselves and pour their bliss on that peaceful calm countryside. Two doves were cooing on a broken window of an old room, lamenting the loss of another spring day that will never return. And below two souls were groping the way that will unite them and take them to their destination or their destiny. A couple of about seventeen years, standing by the school door and giving free rein to their so long curbed emotions. She, in the black coat, and he in the blue jeans. Black and blue their clothes were like their characters. He recalls Louis Armstrong whimpering on his guitar “ what did I do to be so black and blue”. She- her looks swerved somewhere and met a sudden rainbow – was trying her best to avoid his looks which pelted her densely-white and darkly-black eyes like Achilles’ arrows pelting the sturdy Rome few times before he conquered. He is doing all his force to conquer her soul and her frail heart and the eyes are the first gate that must be unlocked and deciphered. Rolling his tongue many times, he feels betrayed by the bankruptcy of his love diction. He still needs some literature to learn how to tame a girl. And that’s one of that teacher’s goals from driving his students crazy of literature. he still needs to read the Bard, to fly with the metaphors of Thomas Hardy, to sail with the depictions Charles Dickens, to settle down with the tranquility of Wordsworth and to travel with the imagination of Garcia Marquez. He still needs too many training sessions to learn how to court a timid, speechless girl. Literature is the sole bridge on which lovers safely cross. By the movement of their lips, you can notice some mutilated words trying to divulge what is repressed in the hearts but encore and encore words betray them and they beautify the scene with and unconscious movement of hands and legs. Their bodies were speaking more than their tongues, the unconscious was expressing more than the conscious. Unconsciously, their legs came close to each other and beat each other as if penalizing themselves for beiong unable to say what they feel. But none of them could blame the other because they both were trapped in the same snare of language. In the corridor, students were walking to and fro and nobody paid any simple attention to that dramatic scene which came close to the end. The sun was completely hidden behind the mountain, the rainbow started to fade away, those two doves cowered to their warm nest and turned a deaf ear to the decadent human life and that teacher was still gazing, or espying or eavesdropping; call it whatever you like but he couldn’t take his sight off the scene before its end. Reading books taught him to be patient and follow the chapters until the end for there is always a great rejoicing in the last shots. After losing the sun and the rainbow, her eyes found nowhere to escape his piercing looks, her cheeks blushed and her feet started to lose control of their movements. Suddenly silence reigned the scene and they both kept searching for something to look at in the those few seconds which seemed longer than a whole lifetime. Now is the time to harvest the fruit of their 17-year-old life experience, to test their skills and their power to wrestle with the huge waves of a troubled, deep sea that is called love. Yet weirdly, the curtain fell down unexpectedly and time flew faster than ever. He pulled up his left hand sleeve to check his old watch but only when she released a wide, ironic, female smile did he notice that his watch was on his right not left wrist. He had nothing to brandish in front of her beguiling smile. Only another smile solved the matter he drew on his face while he was bidding her farewell and giving her some hope for another appointment and may be another disappointment. The bus opened its doors and he threw himself in, took a seat close to the window and again looks met for some moments. That teacher smiled too and his students couldn’t decipher his mysterious smile, and so they smiled too. And then the bell rang to tell them it’s time the left. But “to whom the bell rings?” L.M March 13, 2014
Posted on: Thu, 20 Mar 2014 22:04:22 +0000
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