Monday, November 14, 2011

Love as an Artist


Sun paints the marketplace in golden hues. It’s a glimpse you thought she said you caught every day and what then is marvelous about it, you quander. At the center of the market, a man named Odd tells a woman named Go she makes perfect sense when she argues they must set their shop up elsewhere the next time. You don’t sell same goods twice for the same price, not just here, anywhere. They sell it once everywhere and sold here L, O, V and E just minutes after setting up shop. Odd and Go are conspicuously attired and so if you thought what they get out of selling what’s worth in grands for peanuts and pursued them thinking your pursuit would take you to their lair of inheritance, a mile into it, right about the third curve, your heart skipped a beat when you saw them dissipate into thin air.

…………

O walks like a polite person, something she does whenever she’s been sold for ten bucks. ‘So, you’re love?’ B asks. ‘Part of, not entirely, yes’ O answers. She’s clad, upon first impression, in a translucent body bag. Inside, she’s scantily dressed, like a supposedly skint actress in a million-dollar film. ‘Care for a smoke’ he asks, offering her a cigar. ‘Hookah, tobacco-less; don’t smoke, no thanks’ she says.

………

C is at the dining hall fork and spoon and he couldn’t contain his desire to consume. ‘Love resides not in the heart, I discovered, nor does it reside in the brain or genitalia. It resides in one empty space between heart and lungs. This is a scientific claim, hypothetical or not, and not some fantastic claim. Now, tell me, just because you tell me you want to consume love, how do I isolate an empty space, salt it, spice it, cook it?’ B tells C what he isn’t in the mood to hear.

‘I don’t care what science had to say about love or lust or anything. I know what it is where it is when I see it and this time will be no different’ C retorts and rushes to the kitchen.

……

She’s standing in the kitchen adjacent to a rack her height. ‘Where is she? Did you or did you not double lock double-check the house?’ C asks B. O is such slender thing she could stand behind a leafless plant and not be seen. ‘There!’ B says. She moves and halts beside the fridge. ‘Now where?’ C yells, growing impatient.

O shoes her shoes and gloves her hands (what is that?), puts her feet up in the air and walks on hands (is this), whirls like a dervish (some form of veneration?), whirls like a dervish out of her mind out of control, whirls on one hand, whirls on fingertips and she’s up in the air (what?), shoots to the ventilation above (?), clears through it like it’s a hoop (!). Seconds pass, there comes a thud, running footsteps echo and fade. Their eyes explore every nook of the kitchen as if she’s present somewhere somehow invisible and only when they fix their gazes upon the spread-eagle body bag does it dawn on them dear love has fled.

‘Love was here…

Love is an artist…’

‘I don’t get it’ B says.

‘…a hormone-driven

Escapologist.’

C demarcates the body bag and scribbles at its foot with a permanent blood red marker: Love was here.

With B fired from his cookery, C backpacks under the influence of an indefinite wanderlust.


L dislikes O, as he thinks she looks loud but O isn’t really what she looks and he’s like if you look it you better be it, even so he fakes a genuine smile because after all it’s the team that matters and it’s all about spirit. O never forgets to leave the translucent jacket behind which L forgets to forget half the time and consequently had to stand and endure Go’s rebuke and this adds to L’s so-called virtues (his dislike of O being one) yet another virtue (again on account of O) called envy. V and E couldn’t wait to see O back again, she being the last to return, and are all platonic hugs and kisses for the millionth time. Once the celebration fades, feast feasted, they’re laid once again up on a beautified platform.

‘Come on, come and fetch anything for ten bucks, come, come on and fetch L O V E for just ten bucks’, the man named Odd bellows at the top of his lungs. When he pauses, the woman named Go ensues the call. It’s a cloudy day and out of thin air a crowd emerges and encircles the shop whilst stocks last.



.



2 comments:

  1. Wow. Seriously, Wow!!
    I'm in awe of this post, and I'm not joking!! :D
    This has to be one of the most upbeat concepts ever :)
    I'm voting for this :D


    Could you help me out? If you have a few minutes, could you read my post, and if you like it, give it a vote? I'd be really really grateful :D

    http://www.indiblogger.in/indipost.php?post=90039

    ReplyDelete
  2. Achyuth Sankar Thank you for reading and appreciating!

    ReplyDelete

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