CHAPTER ONE: ONCE UPON A TIME ON…THE DESERT HIGHWAYS OF JORDAN
“Watch out!”, shrieked Arya as Arnie wheeled out of what would have been a fatal crash.
Was he falling asleep behind the wheel or his nerves not holding up? I didn’t care to ask, for I wasn’t there at all. The road that connected the aquamarine blues of Aqaba to rusty reds of Wadi Rum is a cacophony of valleys on either side with a bacon strip of highway for truckers to race each other. We were caught amidst this chaos with a driver who never drove a steering wheel on the left and passengers shrieking for their lives as if it was about to go tumbling down any moment.
I was too preoccupied; my mind was still hovering over her flashing smile that we whizzed past by without stopping. My dirty, half bitten nails dug into the Nikon’s skin as I gulped down frustration and held back the tears. My eyes wouldn’t leave the window as if I expected time to rewind to that exact frame in the past. My whines however were very audible, even garnering stinky stares from the others.
“Why don’t we just stop for a minute? I won’t need more than two minutes” I pleaded.
They were ignoring me because they knew I was lying; as a matter of fact, I knew I was lying. Two minutes!? Pfft, I’d spend an eternity just watching her dance if they just let me escape this metal cage. The silky blues in her robe met the haze of pink dust with the fierceness of passionate lovers in a dim lit alley. My silent tears, palpable excitement and overwhelming sense of guilt notwithstanding, our party brushed aside that evening without any remorse. I carry the scars of that guilt in my heart to this day; she could have been the one.
CHAPTER TWO: MR.PIROSHKY SHOWS THE WAY
“It’s over between us Venky and you should let go” she yelled through the text message.
I read and re-read that sentence a million times over, tried fighting the fact and cried miserably into the already soggy pillows on some nights. There was no one around and the empty apartment reflected the gaping hole she had left behind. These were the times when I started stepping out for evening runs to the top of a hill so I could rather be in physical than emotional pain. On such evening runs was when I met the aging, self-proclaimed romantic Mr.Piroshky.
On what you could term as a signature Seattle evening, him and I were at our usual spot sitting by the edge of my favorite city gazing at the ever-promising range of Olympic mountains in the distance.
“Mi alma, mi amor” he loudly proclaimed with gusto awakening ‘her’ but as always, his voice trailed with the heaviness of longing.
“Out of the million possible occurrences and against unfathomable odds, what are the chances that you’d meet someone who you've never known your entire life and in just a few handful seasons, that relationship stretches your soul literally between the extremes of joy and sadness to the extent of breaking you. And all you do is willingly give yourself away with a stupid sunny smile?”
The answer's simply ONE, he wailed in joy pointing his non-existent finger at me.
I was amused but as always stayed silent. Not a moon passed by when I wished for nothing but the day I’d wake up with no memory of my past. And here was Mr.Piroshky who carried an ocean of love but never let it weigh him down. His wave of blues woke the stranger inside me and for the first time in months, he lifted his face up at the shimmering horizon with a smile.
While we both sat there lost to our own melody of thoughts, I saw him tear up but remain as stoic as a Greek statue. His wondrous gaze never left the beautiful blot, for he sought her with all that was remaining of him those few precious magical moments, every chance he got.
Behind those blue eyes, I saw not pain but the promise of a lifetime. For it is his anchor, armor and arsenal; come any storm.
CHAPTER THREE: THE HUNDRED FACES OF EL BUNKER
March is a sunny friend to be with and evenings like this are when he’s at his cheery best. The dull breeze that now sifted through our t-shirts made us tingle after the short hike to ‘El Bunker’ in Barcelona. We were reasonably happy as we had arrived on time for her dance.
I get my sketch book out and my fingers know the drill; my eyes ravishing the minor details, a yellow building with the half-finished windows, circular dome far away with a Ferris wheel next to it and like a drunken monkey who's found a slab of charcoal, I scribble away. ‘Imagination’ by the band ‘City of the Sun’ is my slow dance move today. If you'd like to follow me along, I'd suggest visualizing yourself suspended a few inches off the ground in a large meadow with no one around for miles and clicking the 'play' button. They are the stillness in your mind, wings under that summer breeze and the silence warping your soul all combined. You will be unceremoniously flung into a kaleidoscopic universe filled with stained glass and blessed with a thousand suns for company.
While the scent of cigarette smoke combined with pockets of laughter spread around the camp, she arrived with her overflowing gown serenading the crowd into a wild buzz. We watched her move silently like an enchanting siren around us, and got lost in the miniature worlds we filled with our sets of favorite humans with. Not many words were uttered as we all willingly stepped into her web and watched her spin a million-colored tale. A wink here and a crooked smile there or a soft moan paired with a comic gasp were all that ever fled our souls. She danced into the night and the skies which she set on fire smothered down to a somber periwinkle glow that somehow took over the city. Taking her last bow, she stepped off the edge and disappeared into the horizon just as magically as she arrived.
I romanced those moments over and the weird connection we all felt. Questioning myself about the unlabeled connection I shared with people I never even met, I crawled back into the corner of my mind still entranced and sheepishly smiling. I’m pretty sure the parade of bobbing heads felt the same as they walked down the hill that night. I prayed not to wind up more in the weeds so I silently got back to my sketch which somehow managed to draw itself out in the meantime.
Barcelona must have had enough of us so she yawned, stretched herself out and hit the night lights on.
CHAPTER FOUR: BE MY VALENTINE
The crowd woo in delight as her alpine scarf slowly draped over Mt.Rainier for the evening. It was time and she was never late. Some cuddle their cameras in hand while others hold onto their loved ones and I? Well, I’m here writing her this love note.
With the grace of a ballet dancer gliding over the Olympics alongside her band of frothy clouds, my muse settles over the concrete promise land with its shiny glass windows.
As seconds furtively start edging into minutes, like the lusty groping hand of your soul mate; the public display of affection taking birth in the background intensifies from a slow moan into the heart wrenching gasp that we see as a sunset. Clouds on the edge overflow with risqué reds, ochres and oh not to mention the innocent looking oranges.
This vivid gasp just as in a sexual ritual does not last long for it is the climax that had been built over eighteen long hours and if you're lucky; just lucky enough, you can walk away with more than just a snapshot of time. You will walk away with a secret smug smile dangling by your mouth like a salivating dog which had been just given a treat. For, you had the pleasure to visually soak in the greatest foreplay on this planet.
As I sit here throwing these words together while ‘Ludovico’ on my headphones prepares me for the grand culmination, my heart cannot contain itself; for a sunset does that to you. There are moments where you ought to make fervent attempts to breathe hard because you are left gasping.
Do you now realize why sunsets only last a few special minutes? Your mortal self cannot sustain such an emotional ride, the oceanic swells of bliss can only be withheld for so long. And sometimes you might surprise yourself by breaking down in tears. Fear not! for, those are tears of gratitude for the ride and I call them 'payback tears'.
My Confession: As I move across time and space literally and figuratively, the only light and love that never seemed to dim irrespective of where and who I am with is the passion to live through a sunset fully without any inhibitions. This was my attempt to let her know how much she means to me.
*written post my abysmal entry to the ROAM Awards, 2019 so I can sleep in peace knowing I did justice to the artist.