|| an aabir basu blog ||
you're reading...
Random Thoughts, Story

Momentary

A good cologne is a man’s best friend. The prevailing community sentiment in the advertising world affirms that a body-spray has magnetic attraction force on women, pretty women, only the very hot women, who cannot resist this mortal temptation. Paul was taking a final look at his reflection, he was looking perfect, all is set and the ball is ready to roll. He has rehearsed it over and over again, even organised two full blown dress rehersals without the main supporting actor, of course. He had imagined this day, this moment vividly in his heart, he has lived this day, he knew it all, it could not go wrong. Yet there was an insecurity in his heart, a skepticism, a fear of failure clouded on his buoyant spirit, apprehension gave way to misgiving. Paul was diligent, the Lord in heavens hold all Pauls in the world in good favor. He said a quick mumbling prayer. It was about to be answered.

She was appalled. Startled. She felt a number of conflicting emotions all at the same time: what the fuck; Oh my God, Oh My God, Oh My GODDD; Stop Miles, are you sure about this, you dont want to hurt his feelings later, you know…; This moron, did he have to choose this tacky restaurant of all places for such a great occasion, I mean what I am going to tell my friends and children; Yes Yes I love you too, oh yes; and so on.

That moment felt like Deja Vu to paul. It was all enacted before, it has happened to him, he had lived this, he knows the coming moments, his eyes blinked for a moment.

Science doesn’t have a definition for moment, its hard to specify an unit of time so precise as to be a moment. Philosophy, however isn’t so rigid in this aspect, it acknowledges moment in all its forms and vastness. Since the moment Paul, so conspicously, knelt in the restaurant, where he had first met Miley, and spelled out her fully name, including the middle name which facebook didnot know of, one moment of awkwardness has settled in scene. amid speculations of onlookers, Paul was ardently staring at the bulging eyes of Miley. This is where the script lead way to some innovative improvisation.

This was not what he had foreseen. He stared at her, looked closely, this wasn’t the Miley he dreamt of. He had surely dreamt of Miley, and only her, and over and over again. Each time the setting was different, location remained the same but costumes and props changed. It used to be much brighter out here, and misty, and surrounded by cute little flying angles playing their harps, She looked prettier now and more pious in the fantasies. All this is happening right at that moment, but its far from over. His images, his fancies, none of it was this. He harly knows whats missing. He tried to concentrate on this moment, but how could he? Those visions were all that he lived by, how could it be forgotten. His brows got heavier, precipitation gathered on his nose and temple. He was having illusions, he couldn’t tell reality from reality. His mental fabrication had been a reality too, he couldn’t see how this was any different.

In his imagination he had exaggerated her, and his love for her. She wasn’t inferior in any way, she was proper, she was how she could ever be. Yet in his imagination she was an Helena and Cleopatra and Joan. He had built her a temple in his mind palace, she reigned on mortal impotency, she was the brave and the strong, the reliever and the punisher, the care giving lover and the  merciless indifferent.

He marked her frailty, her susceptible expectation, her overwhelmed frenzy, her loving eyes getting narrower like that of an oriental monk, and the reflection of the diamond ring in her eyes. She defeated his dream. No, its like she broke the record, she bettered it. As pieces of his dream crumbled on itself, a new edifice was being built; it was stronger, if not grander. Was he angry that she looked so easily swayed, so effortlessly swept off, so yielding?

This entire unintended impromptu had only costed time a single moment by philosophical definitions. This was not in unison with anything that Paul had scripted, but this held no more meaning to him. BY the time Miley’s trembling lips tried to summon a coherent response, Paul was not waiting for an answer.

Advertisements

About Aami Aabir

Aabir Basu is a North Kolkata-bred bearded and spectacled Bengali Bhodrolok. He has a master’s degree in Business Administration and is currently employed in some IT company. Aabir writes blogs about life, religion, photo-blogs, politics, short stories, one liner quotes and everything else. Please share your feedback with your comments. Click here for more

Discussion

No comments yet.

Please share your views ...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Catagories

Month wise Blog-roll

People who took notice:

  • 3,057 Lives touched

My BlogRoll

I Me Myself : Aabir Basu

Picture1

Aabir Basu is a North Kolkata-bred bearded and spectacled Bengali Bhodrolok. He is on the right side of his thirties and is married to his teenage sweetheart. He has a master’s degree in Business Administration and is currently employed in some IT company. Aabir is an artist at heart: cartoonist, photographer, painter, movie buff, poetry enthusiast, lullaby story-teller, bathroom singer, religious philosopher and photo manipulator. He believes in creativity and breaking out of the cliché. Aabir's life is characterized by trying to spend a peaceful life while doing what he loves or trying to love what he does (that's too many trying in one sentence). Aabir writes blogs about life, religion, photo-blogs, politics, short stories, one liner quotes and everything else.

Please share your feedback with your comments. Click here for more

Follow The Hat is paramount on WordPress.com
%d bloggers like this: