HONEY AND THE MOON

Her silhouette seemed a bit distant as she stood against the divine light that followed her everywhere. Her eyes, like two static balls fixed in their slots, trying hard to take in things she didnt want to see, and yet hiding the emotion, or the absence of it. The effort lay almost exposed through her drooping lids, as she slowly closed and half-opened them, trying to find comfort in her dreamland, which only a few minutes ago, had seemed so promising. Words, she tried to find but failed, as she realised the futility of putting life into alphabets and punctuation, that could never stand up to the emotions that are beyond one's very existence.

As he stood an inch away, he could feel the space between them involved in its own valiant effort to expand, and even though he knew how easily he could supress his enemy, he could see how it had began to dictate its own terms. He looked at her with a heavy sigh, at her reluctancly open eyes. It amazed him how blank they were, when only a few hours ago, they were brimming with such an eclectic mix of emotions. It amazed him how they'd lost their power of expression, when only a few hours ago the smile on her face had seemed such a lame effort compared to the brightly lit up eyes. Her visage, now, was a grim and ineffectual prison to the beauty that lay within, and one that had ceased to be coy - one that had been shot at innumerable times and at innumerable angles by an almost professional photographer that he'd recently found in himself. Looking at her beatific pics had become an obsession that had been his very own panacea in times of distress.

As she looked up for one last time before the lift popped open, the irrepressible urge to feel her lips on his came back like a spasm which refuses to die, even when it has been balmed over a hundred times. Self-restraint had never been her ball game, and this was one of those weak moments when "self" leaves one for its own selfish pursuits. He reached out with just a hand to shake, and as it touched hers the weakness of the moment dropped to an all-time low, and yet the lift door smugly opened its jaws, exposing the intimacy of a sweet act that the society has made out to be a shameful one.

She had never hated farewells upfront, but this time if only she could conjure up some energy, she'd surely be game for a one-on-one, even if team farewell was tagged with team fate. She felt the old laziness returning, and as her hand slipped away from his grip, the daredevilry found itself on the wane. It had not taken a lot of effort to learn the ways of fate, and when it comes to her life, fate had been quite unforgiving. She'd taken the stones hurled at her, along with an occasional flower, without any complains. What she was not used to was something being snatched away from her so cruely. Indeed, fate had changed its ways to magnify the pain, and reduce the moments of happiness to tiny specks on an empty canvas.

As she lost herself in the mirage at the horizon where her past and future met, he caught one last glimpse of her, and for once, he felt contented. The kind of contention that he'd felt when they'd both lost themselves to the pleasant toxicity of vodka. He had still not understood how she'd managed to do the most mundane of tasks- ordering pizza, when the 2 of them were so high that they'd brought the life around them to wonder if there's any worthiness in being sober. Every kiss, then, had seemed like the first time- the pleasure magnified a hundred times and then twisted by lips made wet by alcohol to give the feeling of pure ecstasy, and he'd instantly known how every emotion was as real under the influence as without it. She'd become a small kid, and yet had exuded so much sensuality that he'd found it awfully tough to restrict the free flow of emotions, and even sexual desires. Those eyes circling round the eyeballs, as if trying to hold themselves steady to let the world revolve in lazy circles, only to wake up the next day and find, instead, the fan above her heavy head, doing what her eyes had been doing the last night. TV cameras couldnt have afforded feeling bereft of such magnificience, as they managed to capture those big eyes and the cute sideways grin, that was mostly a result of a small doze of Pinacaolada at Cafe Leopold. That was her 60 second of fame moment, one that he wanted to be part of forever. He had been treated to those seductive eyes, with a viagra-effect again at Bandra bandstand, as he had to expend only a minimal effort to get her swooning over him, with every sound of the sea lashing against the rocks. He had loved to hold her swaying then, her whole body pulsating with happiness, craziness and loveliness, augmented by a few dozes of beer, topped with a blue lagoon. He was missing her, and her childishness, already...

She,meanwhile, had wasted no time in returning her faithfulness and attention to his substitute- a stuffed doggy that had been her birthday gift and whose neck she'd so cruely twisted in some fit of anger, when she'd mistaken it for her real object of affection, and had got so involved that it had taken her some time before she finally figured out her craziness. She lay there now, cuddled up with the doggy, in an effort to make her lover return out of jealousy, knowing pretty well that it won't need a photo-op for him to kno what she's upto behind his back. But then, it started to seem like an empty gesture, and as if the stuffed dog had feelings, she started to feel she's not being faithful to it, cuddling up and yet thinking of someone else, in whose arms she'd found her nights' comfort, and with whose kisses she'd began her mornings pepped. She let go of the dog and lay in emptiness, trying to conjure up the feeling of lying in his lap, with complete contentment and carelessness about the piercing gaze of the dog that lay neglected. Suddenly, the thought of the neglected sweetheart- the doggy made her embrace it all over again, as she caught sight of the christmukkah tree that they'd so lovingly bought and decorated with small silly shiny things. Sigh, how many neglected things will she take care of, without leaving herself in a state of neglect! In this life, she remembered, one must stop one's thoughts if one wishes to remain intact, or guilt, pity and loneliness would take everything, even one from oneself. Her eyes became blank again, but her struggle with her senses went on...

A sweet song played on his ipod...

Don't know why I'm still afraid
If you weren't real I would make you up
now
I wish that I could follow through
I know that your love is true
And deep
As the sea

We're made out of blood and rust
Looking for someone to trust
Without 
A fight
I think that you came too soon
You're the honey and the moon
That lights
Up my night