anubhay
The Poet
Aini Apa glanced at the group of stars above her and she knew it was time for him to come. By now she remembered each action, he would open the rusting gate with that typical rusty sound and would sit next to the wall thinking he is alone.
Aini Apa inched forward, cursing her rigid bones and felt Ismat’s little finger. She shook it till she felt some voluntary movement and shouted, as if in sheer physical pain,” I can’t hear him again, Ismat. Wake up, Ismat! My bones will break, my blood will freeze, my soul will curse him, Ismat. Save me from him, and save him from me. Ismat! Are you listening? One more of those phony poems from his journal across the cement wall and I promise we will not lie here together under these infinite stars and this turquoise blue sky from tomorrow." Seeing no choice finally Ismat Apa got tired of Aini Apa’s hysterics and answered, “There is a complete wall, Aini Apa, just thrust something in your ears, and let the poor soul wag his bouncy poetic tail. It is a free world, Aini Apa.” In jest I smat Apa added, “Pity the poor fool, he is a writer with no listeners Apa.” Aini Apa was furious now, she lamented looking at the full moon, ” Ismat, I am sorry for all the world’s poets if he is in their company. Good for nothing, failed lover of some sort, may be, but a poet! No, Ismat. Never!”
Just then the door made the rusty sound and he entered. Aini Apa winced in fearful pain. Ismat Apa held her hand in support. The poet made himself comfortable and opened his diary, flipping through his work gently. Ismat and Aini Apa bit their lips as if in coupled labour pain. Aini Apa’s grip tightened on Ismat’s palm. Aini Apa shut her eyes in preparation for the misery.
Feroz wistfully looked at the graveyard and wondered if the dead can hear?
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Aini Apa glanced at the group of stars above her and she knew it was time for him to come. By now she remembered each action, he would open the rusting gate with that typical rusty sound and would sit next to the wall thinking he is alone.
Aini Apa inched forward, cursing her rigid bones and felt Ismat’s little finger. She shook it till she felt some voluntary movement and shouted, as if in sheer physical pain,” I can’t hear him again, Ismat. Wake up, Ismat! My bones will break, my blood will freeze, my soul will curse him, Ismat. Save me from him, and save him from me. Ismat! Are you listening? One more of those phony poems from his journal across the cement wall and I promise we will not lie here together under these infinite stars and this turquoise blue sky from tomorrow." Seeing no choice finally Ismat Apa got tired of Aini Apa’s hysterics and answered, “There is a complete wall, Aini Apa, just thrust something in your ears, and let the poor soul wag his bouncy poetic tail. It is a free world, Aini Apa.” In jest I smat Apa added, “Pity the poor fool, he is a writer with no listeners Apa.” Aini Apa was furious now, she lamented looking at the full moon, ” Ismat, I am sorry for all the world’s poets if he is in their company. Good for nothing, failed lover of some sort, may be, but a poet! No, Ismat. Never!”
Just then the door made the rusty sound and he entered. Aini Apa winced in fearful pain. Ismat Apa held her hand in support. The poet made himself comfortable and opened his diary, flipping through his work gently. Ismat and Aini Apa bit their lips as if in coupled labour pain. Aini Apa’s grip tightened on Ismat’s palm. Aini Apa shut her eyes in preparation for the misery.
Feroz wistfully looked at the graveyard and wondered if the dead can hear?
Poll Rate this entry