An Hour of Silence

So much has changed in the last six months. The Earth revolved around itself 180 times and more; Flat Foot, Grey Eyes and Nethravati Express made it out of Bombay for better, I met Subo Khan, joined a Gym and put on 10 lbs of prime quality lard on my belly, saw my city get washed away in floods and saw the Sena disintegrate; but Ma Cheri is still the same as she was – with her kind and loving face radiant as ever, with the sparkle in her eyes and a hint of mischief in her glance.

It is best to pen down ones thoughts when they are still fresh in the mind, and I intend to do just that ‘cause I’m sure that by tomorrow morning I’d have lost not only the enthusiasm to type this text but also the words to express my sentiment.

Ma Cheri, looked just the same when I saw her today evening at the check post to Thane, where she had promised to meet me. She kept her word and I have kept mine by actually taking the efforts to pen a blog promptly as I’ve never done in my life before.

When some philosopher quoted that beauty is but skin deep, I am sure he had Ma Cherie in mind. There in nothing I know that is ugly about her. Great Poets and Writers have lauded the Beauty of the Woman, commented on her virtue, grace, essence and charm. I intend to do nothing of that sort. I realize that some of the best things in life can’t be talked about and expressed, because words prove too meager to convey these sentiments. I do not intend to obliterate the sanctity of my relationship with Ma Cherie by reducing its worth to a text in black and white confined to the limitations of expression of the English Tongue.

I accompanied her to her house. We talked and walked all the way along through that hour of bliss that went away like a fraction of a second. I now realize how Einstein came to his Theory of Relativity. She came from work, but she oozed freshness; exuberance that has the potential to resurrect wilted flora. We met after long, but there was nothing to suggest that we had even been apart - even for a second.

Ma Cheri and I perfectly compliment each other. I speak, she listens. Our rendezvous this time was in no way different than any other time we’ve met. I spoke for an hour flat and she just looked at me and listened, just listened; and while I spoke to her I felt certain calmness take over me, a certain silence, a feeling that I was content and in peace with the world. It was as if I was talking to harmony herself.

Ma Cherie is ephemeral, fleeting, stolid yet ever-changing; cunning yet subtle; she is as obvious as much as she is an enigma. In my five years of association with her I’ve come as close to knowing her as much I can possibly intimate any one I so adore.

Albeit such intimacy, I still think she’s as elusive as when I first met her on that wonderful autumn day of 2001. Throughout these years our relationship has changed dynamically and so have our feelings for each other; and they will continue to do so as time flows. But one thing I’m sure of is that that no matter what, I’ll always have the lady by my side when I need her the most. She is someone I can totally bank upon.

Ma Cherie’s aversion to being photographed is the only thing that hurts me the most. For many years down the line when I happen to be an old man of eighty, I’d be sorry that there would not be an image with me of the beautiful girl who I once happened to meet many years ago.

There are very few things that I’ve ever regretted for. One of my greatest regrets -when I meet Ma Cherie - is that I’m too practical to face my sentiments.

This one is just for you………

Mona lisa, mona lisa, men have named you

You’re so like the lady with the mystic smile

Is it only ’cause you’re lonely they have blamed you?

For that mona lisa strangeness in your smile?

Do you smile to tempt a lover, mona lisa?

Or is this your way to hide a broken heart?

Many dreams have been brought to your doorstep

They just lie there and they die there

Are you warm, are you real, mona lisa?

Or just a cold and lonely lovely work of art?

Do you smile to tempt a lover, mona lisa?

Or is this your way to hide a broken heart?

Many dreams have been brought to your doorstep

They just lie there and they die there

Are you warm, are you real, mona lisa?

Or just a cold and lonely lovely work of art?

Mona lisa, mona lisa.

(Note: This piece of text is a reflection of the author’s sentiments towards a purely imaginary character, any resemblance to any individual living or dead is purely co-incidental whatsoever. The text is not open to argument or debate of any kind.)