 |
| And this is where all the problems started... |
1. Whoever were you?
O’ Taufiq,
Whatever were you?
Whoever were you?
How could you ever be
Anything or anyone,
Before in your life,
I came to be?
O’ Taufiq,
What delight did you feel?
What joy did you drown in,
Before you knew Me?
Whatever you were,
Whoever you were,
It matters not.
Not now,
Not now that you are
Finally with Me.
Your life,
And your memory
Begins now, o’ Taufiq,
With Me.
Some women are queer folk. And if you happen to have had a girlfriend before or worse still a wife(!), they are queerer still. You would suggest, “Let’s have a drink here.” Only for your better half to reply, “No. You used to have your dinner with what’s-her-name there.” Oh. Then you would say something utterly nondescript like, “I have seen loads of The 70s Show…” (that TV sitcom) only for her to say, “Yes, yes. I know you really enjoyed watching it with HER.”
 |
| You have been found guilty of the appalling sin of existing before I came into your life. What do you have to say for this unforgivable crime? |
Such is the strange emotions that circulate in their veins that sometimes I think you have committed the gravest sin before her eyes for SIMPLY EXISTING before she ever came into your life. That was the amusing thought percolating through my soul when the above prose was recorded some 2 years ago.
But women can also have the uncanny ability to make you feel REALLY good. I think I mentioned this before in an earlier post (God knows when…) - Heche and I rarely have any transcendental discourse about the meaning of life and God, but one day she was musing about my writing and made this observation – “You know, I really don’t know sometimes whether you are writing about me or about God.”
And that is the whole point of this writing and blogging obsession of mine. And I am glad that at least one person on earth have learnt this. If I was to die at this very moment, I would be contented. My own happy smile would be the wreath at my funeral as I recall her word, “…I really don’t know sometimes whether you are writing about me or about God.”
 |
| Purrr...You still are! |
But men can be real queer too. We really MUST buy something if the salesgirl is awfully pretty. We suddenly decide that sky-diving is a good idea at the age of 40. We believe that a problem will go away if we JUST procrastinate enough. We think that eating bits of rare animals (Tiger, Bears, Elephants…) will improve our sexual prowess. But I guess most of all, we are queerly fixated by woman herself. Right from the time of our grandfather, Adam, we are dangerously obsessed by her guile and utterly baffling mannerism. So much so that she is able to challenge us, “Well, if I am queer, and you want me still… what does that make you?”
“Oh. I am just curious…” You can reply.
“Well look at what curiosity did to the cat. Killed it.“ She would then retort, hopefully with a wry smile.
Then if you would take my suggestion, gently bring your arm around her waist and closely embrace your woman, and huskily reply in the best nonchalant tone you could muster, “Look, honey. I will die one day. At least this way I will die smiling.”
 |
| You can't see, but I am actually smiling... |
And that is why our connection with woman is intrinsically connected with our connection to Life, Death, Love and God. Don't you agree?
wa min Allah at-taufiq.
No comments:
Post a Comment