Something of Myself
Saturday, March 03, 2007
He was good at drums. The long, nimble fingers that he had got from his mother helped him a great deal while he was on stage. She had chanced to see him in a local concert just on the outskirts of Shillong.
After the concert, unlike Hindi cinema, she had walked up to him with a proposal. She wanted him to teach her play drums. It was just that. Nothing more.
He was happy to help. He was not a star. Besides, he was not married, so engaging oneself for lengthy hours with a twenty-something woman would not cause any anxiety or jealousy to any of the women around him.
They took to each other in an awkward way. Whenever she used to chat with him, he looked at her intensely with his kohl-rimmed eyes. She thought he was a good listener.
He was a good teacher for he taught her more than the drums. He taught her how to let go of herself. He taught her to find happiness in the most ordinariest things. He taught her to let go of her past. He taught her to uncage herself. And in the middle of all this teaching that he was imparting to his student, he gradually realized that he was developing a certain set of feelings that were not typical between a teacher and his pupil.
His parents kept asking him about the girl and he simply kept avoiding by saying -'She is just my student.'
But he could not hide nor avoid his emotions when on the 15th day of December, he walked into her apartment and saw an exact looking girl, standing beside her student - all of three feet.
'Zara. This is Zara. And Zara, this is Uncle DJ.'
No one knows how much time elapsed as he straddled between the world of consciousness and the world where you know that what you see is how it is, but you do not believe it...
[Lost the thoughts...will have to come back later to finish this.]
After the concert, unlike Hindi cinema, she had walked up to him with a proposal. She wanted him to teach her play drums. It was just that. Nothing more.
He was happy to help. He was not a star. Besides, he was not married, so engaging oneself for lengthy hours with a twenty-something woman would not cause any anxiety or jealousy to any of the women around him.
They took to each other in an awkward way. Whenever she used to chat with him, he looked at her intensely with his kohl-rimmed eyes. She thought he was a good listener.
He was a good teacher for he taught her more than the drums. He taught her how to let go of herself. He taught her to find happiness in the most ordinariest things. He taught her to let go of her past. He taught her to uncage herself. And in the middle of all this teaching that he was imparting to his student, he gradually realized that he was developing a certain set of feelings that were not typical between a teacher and his pupil.
His parents kept asking him about the girl and he simply kept avoiding by saying -'She is just my student.'
But he could not hide nor avoid his emotions when on the 15th day of December, he walked into her apartment and saw an exact looking girl, standing beside her student - all of three feet.
'Zara. This is Zara. And Zara, this is Uncle DJ.'
No one knows how much time elapsed as he straddled between the world of consciousness and the world where you know that what you see is how it is, but you do not believe it...
[Lost the thoughts...will have to come back later to finish this.]
4 Comments:
Waiting in anticipation, pls finish this post, i have a feeling this will be one of ur best post, just below the letter to father one.
:-) Amar erokom fan following ache jantam na! ;) It's cooking in the head Misti, thrashing out the ideas...promise to get back soon! Thank you for the comment.
I rather love this as it is. Soft and poignant. The musicality of words, of course, dear Pelexx
Coming back through to say hello and nod knowingly to one who understands the power of the word. The poignancy of the word and the beautiful pull of it too. Keep your magic thriving my friend. :)
Hey Molly, great to hear from you! Where have you been hibernating (hiding?) my friend? Thank you for your kind words (as always)...To be very honest, I am still struggling to give this one another chapter/post.
Stay in touch Bloom xx
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