They say it is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. They say anything nowadays or was it Jane Austen?
My endeavours for love, and love making, although prosaic, can be perilous. Now and then, I could seek a touch; out of bounds. Or a claimed heart. And sometimes precariously the most dangerous sort of woman – another man’s wife.
But Cupid’s dart lands, you know?
‘Men are like dogs,’ she said as I pulled her chair and sat unwelcomely adjacent to her. ‘I wholeheartedly agree,’ I concurred. But I had to.
‘They bark at every pussy they come across and chase every skirt that sways their way,’ she added.
‘Oh like that!’, and I went quiet. Ever loquacious; now I was lost for words.
I had met her at a Christmas party, with her husband on tow. She was beautiful – the kind of beauty that stopped men cold — and the kind of voice that kept them there. Dangerously articulate.
I can be quite the conversationalist but that woman was an intellectual bazaar filled with delights for the mind. My heart was in the state of ferment.
Hydrocarbons burn, metals rust and everything wears out with time. And here I was dying, withering away, and without a decent thought in my head.
Vo chandni ka badan
Khusbboon ko saya hai
Bahut Azeez hame hai
Magar paraya hai
The translation does not do justice; but here you go,
Her body gleams like moonlight,
Her scent moves like a shadow,
She’s precious to my heart,
Yet fate made her another’s.
Between stimulus and response, man has the freedom to choose; and this is where I let my heart overrule my rational thoughts. Sometimes rational expectations get too cute for their own good — I made sure this wasn’t one of those times.
I wanted that woman.
What was it going to be? Will it be love and not a love affair or a mere love affair? Que sera, sera. Whatever will be, will be. We shall see.
‘Men are like dogs.’ I iterated, ‘There is a corollary to it. I have been imploring you to see me — like a dog chasing a car — desperate for the chase, unprepared for the catch.
But when the car stops the beast stands here dumb and panting, and unsure of what lay head. Hence my silence.’
In any case words weren’t necessary anymore.
They say no coffee is better than bad coffee but there is no such thing as bad sex. They would say anything nowadays or was it me this time?
It was cold – like greeting your distant relatives. They are distant for a reason. They were not acts of lovemaking but mere acknowledgement of existence of anatomical functions.
It is a feeling you get– when you go bowling and you are in someone else’s shoes. The sensation of stranded in a space that had refused to recognize you.
‘Men are like dogs,’ as she pronounced her judgement on the two species, ‘throw them scraps, and they will call it love.’
Here is me skinny dipping in Wah Myor, Meghalaya.
“If, after I depart this vale, you ever remember me and have thought to please my ghost, forgive some sinner and wink your eye at some homely girl.”