Saturday, July 2, 2011

Pinned Tongue: An Encounter



The Steam-Coach smacked of grape vapor. By the window, her best spot for sport, Harli, attired for a fine young lady, was led to sit. From within, a soul in a body was caused to propel. As the Fly gathered height and speed, a chromatic world beneath gave itself up and a dash of indigo embraced its guest. The vapor in the atmosphere was an irritant guest to Harli's lungs, and as her hungry eyes fed on the spectacle that the sun-cracked sky was howf she coughed, and again: Lowf.

Lovf?, the man adjacent said. Lovf does noth existh. The very thing thath makes you couf will make you puke and choke.

Pardon my manners, sir, Harli said. Coufing, I do remember, but asking for your aid I do…owf…not.

Yeth, dandy dame, said the man, who asks for help meaning tho these days! The creases on his cheek segued, as he spoke, from being to nothingness indicating there is more life to endure for them to segue from nothingness to being.

For the man you are, Harli said, un-pressed and half-emancipated, I impress I would plead exile. I am amazed sky-high the wombless vessel that your lot are, are given to advice and contemplation these days.

The man, with a gesture, pursed his lips and took to reading The Domale Eunuch picking it by its dog-ear, occasionally glimpsing toward his unfriendly companion. A steward handsome (to Harli) and automaton (to the man) served Sunshine.

I regret my manners, Harli apologized pulling her mask on. The journey I embark upon is life's and it gets to my nerves what if I were to fall apart half way through it. Would you opine on love?

As the Fly sailed through the tides of wind it was hard to say what, between the vessel and the waves, slapped what. Lovf, began the man with a smile, like cougf is of body's, is a condition of soul's lungs. You never know whath nourishes ith or whath poisons ith unhtil ith's thoo lathe. Ith is a double-edged virtue. Gone are the days of Sr Paula's precepts uthered in apocalypthic frenzy.

But, she said, they can be kept if you believed in being in a moment. Only there are other moments to crash and burn it to nothing…

Yet…! Anyway, he took off from the tip of his tongue a pin and said, love can be utterly and eternally deadly. Howsoever hard I try, dame, I can't seem to fork my tongue.

Harli's fingertip, by way of reflex, felt her tongue-tip. She wondered why, kept to herself, and kept it to herself. The Fly lost its gained height as it gave itself in ever so slowly to gravity.

Floaters to Destini may unbuckle, announced a voice.

You know what, Harli said adjusting her mask, I am going to forget you as early as my sandal touches the sand.

No, said the man who by now pinned through sixteen pages, you will not. I will tell you why, and he handed her an Hourglass. The object contained sand as tiny as dust and it had an orifice and the orifice had a cap. This is called Alefor, he said, and it never runs out of what's inside.

What's inside, asked Harli.

Nothing but dust of time, said the man. It's a medicine to be taken like medicine, and not, ever, drug. It may be of use, again it may not be.

She put it in her pouch and said, aren't you the most disliked and the most liked person.

What, said the man.

I can tell it just by looking into your eyes, said Harli as she opened the door. Before stepping out, she turned this side and left a peck on the man's cheek and said: Farewell.

The northwestern wind blew even and caressed her face and she found it hard to resist the ministrations of the sunset. Let's get written, said a voice. This came from a boy, and the direction southeast, who stepped out of the same Coach. You mean return, said Harli. I am afraid I‘m unsure. From Destini to where she will head must be taken on foot. And it's a long and winding road -- the road to Harlum.

Soon it is found out there is no road – not a visible one by any measure. They say that the paths are beaten and laid, she thought: if there they are, they are hidden, only you land there and find out you beat your own.  Let’s take this route, he said. Let’s take that route, she said. They sliced an apricot in two--she very casually pocketed its seed--and flipped it. It fell the center side up and they took the middle route.



Half of a Quarter Tale, with its long withheld coda




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6 comments:

  1. Nishkam Razdan It's nice to hear from you. I'm joyed to hear it took you by pleasant surprise. Thanks so much for your nice words.

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  2. your work is always a pleasant surprise..each word each phrase so properly chosen and the style so polished and fine.Brilliant!

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  3. PURBA RAY Those kind words of yours are inspiring. Thanks very much for reading and appreciating

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  4. Each para you wrote was a gem chiseled to perfection...A brilliant play of words....

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Your thoughts are invaluable

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