idden truths
I try to bury it deep within the library of memories I keep filed away, in an effort to shield myself from the pain which gnaws at me time and time again, but I hopelessly fail. The need to look over my shoulder is crucial. One lost look and it will eat into the deep embers of my soul. When I am reminded an incomplete smile forms around the corners of my mouth before my face contorts and small drops of tears begin to fall down my downtrodden facade. I say downtrodden because the memories are as sweet as honey and yet bitter as a glass of lemonade on a hot summers day.
Night
Over head the rain drops form their own rhythm on the tin roof while outside in the courtyard the squishing of mud by the feet of rushed servants begins another. This song was the perfect lullaby, but my eyes would not give into temptation.
The guests were outside scrambling for whatever shelter they could find from the splash of monsoon rains. I sat as upright as I possibly could but it was getting rather hard to hold down a 12 ton truck when sleep deprived. I was adorned in 20 bori gold and a Swarovski lehenga. And then just as waters of the Nile came to a close and the grannies began yawning profusely he walked in. My head was patiently bowed down throughout the procession of grannies and their words of what I should and shouldn’t do tonight. My ill posture was in my favour. I had the best view of his legs and shiny shoes, and they weren’t just any old black dress shoes. These were the Armani shoes his brother had sent him from London. These bad boys taught me how to shoe shine and were on several occasions the reason why my husband and I had many blissful afternoons together, covered in shoe shine polish.
The events of this night did not go as I had envisioned. After the grannies had gone their merry way, giggling out the door, and the locks had turned it was just him and I and the crickets singing refreshingly after the monsoon wash they’d just had. The veil of the night hid my secret but in the morning when the sheets were white as day I could no longer escape the inevitable. My purity was of great value to him but now he knew I was not a white rose and this is where my journey of loneliness and pain began. This journey shattered any granules of happiness I could have had with him.
Second Monsoon
The showers of the monsoon season whispered my name and I returned once again to the land where thought was inter-twined with reason and logic. I returned back to the place I was turned away from in great hopes of rectifying my image without a white rose in hand. The journey down from the airport on the green hilltops of the Latawanga Tea Gardens to your village is etched out in my mind like it was just yesterday.
The rain drops paltered down as the car lugged through the mud, throwing me around like a sack of potatoes from side to side. The roads were not paved, instead they were mud and gravel ridden making it even more difficult for the van to get through. The inevitable had finally happened. The car was stuck in a mud pit. At one point I felt like rolling up my trousers and walking to your village. The driver, in his white uniform and white cap, stopped midway and asked a farmer walking by with his cattle, to help. As I sat in the shelter of the car, dry and mud-less, the driver got back in and let the engine rip while the farmer pushed the car from the outside. I could see his feet were by now splattered with orange and brown goo and his ‘longhi’ was soaked wet and muddy of course. Finally the car was moving and the driver sped off.
Before long I was standing inside the village gates surveying my surroundings. The homes looked different now, almost unknown to me, it was as if I was trespassing on someone else’s territory. The long row of houses stood side by side with the doors swung open hoping to get what little wind they could to temper down the humidity. I made my pleasantries which were less than welcoming and slowly made my way across the court yard towards our room. The walk was short but painful; all of a sudden I felt a piercing pain in my stomach and my knees felt wobbly. As I approached the doorway I could feel the tear drops falling. I silently recited a prayer, looked over head towards the heavens and made my way forward.
The door was open but the curtains were drawn, the satin curtains I had brought that first year of our marriage. I remembered when you first put them up. You had a hammer and two nails but the darn nails just wouldn’t go through the wall so I pulled the hammer out of your hand and put them in myself and then turned around and smiled and all you did was stare at me for a few seconds with this funny distant look in your eyes and then you came over and kissed my forehead.........these are the moments I treasure the most. Our room was secluded but I could hear some movement in the bathroom so I took a seat on my throne and waited and waited........
You strode into the room with a sense of pride that was swept across your face. I looked up and it seemed as if my unspoken words of wanting to try again, of asking for a fighting chance, silently passed on to you. Your slow curled smile brought a smile to my face. The gap between us took him and I by storm in a great fury filled with passion and promises.
The heavens above granted you and me a wish. The valleys of happiness would be upon us, but it was short lived and yet it had the airs of perfection. I fell in love with your boyish charm and the good person buried deep inside of you who only peeped out a few times. If only this persona had come out more often we wouldn’t be where we are today.
You swept me off my feet and took me way to NeverLand,, a land filled with love and perfection. Each day was filled with magic and passion, it almost felt as if Cupid’s aura was encircling us. It was the only time we were one. I felt this was it; that I would be floating in a bed of happiness today, tomorrow, and every day. We were in our own little haven distanced from the happenings of the world outside. Our evenings were filled with candle light, room service, long conversation, and blissful slumber. Outside the evenings were filled with an unending downpour from the goddesses of the sky amassed with the honking of cars and shouts from street wardens over traffic. Soon our escapade to tranquillity came to an end and so did our happiness.
Regrets of the Present
Ten years have passed and all the memories have been filed away in the deepest parts of my brain. One would imagine that a happy marriage and a family would help to compensate the missing pieces we had in our marriage, but unfortunately it’s not the case. Life is really funny. Life has the ability to sweep the carpet under your feet and blind you just when you think that you are done living in the past. Our past has many unanswered questions. These questions awaken a pain from the depths of my heart. I’m afraid I didn’t lock the door tight enough because somehow the memories escape and all of a sudden when I’m in the middle of the most mundane tasks like washing dishes I find myself back in our room, bathed in your love, and then I see myself fading away farther and farther from you. You didn’t fight for me, your sharp daggers extinguished the glow I had within me and stole years off my life, but this heart of mine yearns for one more chance, for a do over. Some nights I immerse myself into the deep blue sky filled with bright white lights of beauty and wonder where your heart is and where your mind is at that very second. I wonder if you ever take a moment in this race of life and ponder over me.
I try to bury it deep within the library of memories I keep filed away, in an effort to shield myself from the pain which gnaws at me time and time again, but I hopelessly fail. The need to look over my shoulder is crucial. One lost look and it will eat into the deep embers of my soul. When I am reminded an incomplete smile forms around the corners of my mouth before my face contorts and small drops of tears begin to fall down my downtrodden facade. I say downtrodden because the memories are as sweet as honey and yet bitter as a glass of lemonade on a hot summers day.
Night
Over head the rain drops form their own rhythm on the tin roof while outside in the courtyard the squishing of mud by the feet of rushed servants begins another. This song was the perfect lullaby, but my eyes would not give into temptation.
The guests were outside scrambling for whatever shelter they could find from the splash of monsoon rains. I sat as upright as I possibly could but it was getting rather hard to hold down a 12 ton truck when sleep deprived. I was adorned in 20 bori gold and a Swarovski lehenga. And then just as waters of the Nile came to a close and the grannies began yawning profusely he walked in. My head was patiently bowed down throughout the procession of grannies and their words of what I should and shouldn’t do tonight. My ill posture was in my favour. I had the best view of his legs and shiny shoes, and they weren’t just any old black dress shoes. These were the Armani shoes his brother had sent him from London. These bad boys taught me how to shoe shine and were on several occasions the reason why my husband and I had many blissful afternoons together, covered in shoe shine polish.
The events of this night did not go as I had envisioned. After the grannies had gone their merry way, giggling out the door, and the locks had turned it was just him and I and the crickets singing refreshingly after the monsoon wash they’d just had. The veil of the night hid my secret but in the morning when the sheets were white as day I could no longer escape the inevitable. My purity was of great value to him but now he knew I was not a white rose and this is where my journey of loneliness and pain began. This journey shattered any granules of happiness I could have had with him.
Second Monsoon
The showers of the monsoon season whispered my name and I returned once again to the land where thought was inter-twined with reason and logic. I returned back to the place I was turned away from in great hopes of rectifying my image without a white rose in hand. The journey down from the airport on the green hilltops of the Latawanga Tea Gardens to your village is etched out in my mind like it was just yesterday.
The rain drops paltered down as the car lugged through the mud, throwing me around like a sack of potatoes from side to side. The roads were not paved, instead they were mud and gravel ridden making it even more difficult for the van to get through. The inevitable had finally happened. The car was stuck in a mud pit. At one point I felt like rolling up my trousers and walking to your village. The driver, in his white uniform and white cap, stopped midway and asked a farmer walking by with his cattle, to help. As I sat in the shelter of the car, dry and mud-less, the driver got back in and let the engine rip while the farmer pushed the car from the outside. I could see his feet were by now splattered with orange and brown goo and his ‘longhi’ was soaked wet and muddy of course. Finally the car was moving and the driver sped off.
Before long I was standing inside the village gates surveying my surroundings. The homes looked different now, almost unknown to me, it was as if I was trespassing on someone else’s territory. The long row of houses stood side by side with the doors swung open hoping to get what little wind they could to temper down the humidity. I made my pleasantries which were less than welcoming and slowly made my way across the court yard towards our room. The walk was short but painful; all of a sudden I felt a piercing pain in my stomach and my knees felt wobbly. As I approached the doorway I could feel the tear drops falling. I silently recited a prayer, looked over head towards the heavens and made my way forward.
The door was open but the curtains were drawn, the satin curtains I had brought that first year of our marriage. I remembered when you first put them up. You had a hammer and two nails but the darn nails just wouldn’t go through the wall so I pulled the hammer out of your hand and put them in myself and then turned around and smiled and all you did was stare at me for a few seconds with this funny distant look in your eyes and then you came over and kissed my forehead.........these are the moments I treasure the most. Our room was secluded but I could hear some movement in the bathroom so I took a seat on my throne and waited and waited........
You strode into the room with a sense of pride that was swept across your face. I looked up and it seemed as if my unspoken words of wanting to try again, of asking for a fighting chance, silently passed on to you. Your slow curled smile brought a smile to my face. The gap between us took him and I by storm in a great fury filled with passion and promises.
The heavens above granted you and me a wish. The valleys of happiness would be upon us, but it was short lived and yet it had the airs of perfection. I fell in love with your boyish charm and the good person buried deep inside of you who only peeped out a few times. If only this persona had come out more often we wouldn’t be where we are today.
You swept me off my feet and took me way to NeverLand,, a land filled with love and perfection. Each day was filled with magic and passion, it almost felt as if Cupid’s aura was encircling us. It was the only time we were one. I felt this was it; that I would be floating in a bed of happiness today, tomorrow, and every day. We were in our own little haven distanced from the happenings of the world outside. Our evenings were filled with candle light, room service, long conversation, and blissful slumber. Outside the evenings were filled with an unending downpour from the goddesses of the sky amassed with the honking of cars and shouts from street wardens over traffic. Soon our escapade to tranquillity came to an end and so did our happiness.
Regrets of the Present
Ten years have passed and all the memories have been filed away in the deepest parts of my brain. One would imagine that a happy marriage and a family would help to compensate the missing pieces we had in our marriage, but unfortunately it’s not the case. Life is really funny. Life has the ability to sweep the carpet under your feet and blind you just when you think that you are done living in the past. Our past has many unanswered questions. These questions awaken a pain from the depths of my heart. I’m afraid I didn’t lock the door tight enough because somehow the memories escape and all of a sudden when I’m in the middle of the most mundane tasks like washing dishes I find myself back in our room, bathed in your love, and then I see myself fading away farther and farther from you. You didn’t fight for me, your sharp daggers extinguished the glow I had within me and stole years off my life, but this heart of mine yearns for one more chance, for a do over. Some nights I immerse myself into the deep blue sky filled with bright white lights of beauty and wonder where your heart is and where your mind is at that very second. I wonder if you ever take a moment in this race of life and ponder over me.
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