Skip to main content

Without Her (2)

Without Her (2)

She cast aside her charms for the sake of an intellectual image. That did not bother you. Keeping her by your side was all that mattered. You felt you could defer your yearning, you lust and build on them to a great promise. Oh God! was that why she went with the goalkeeper? because of..Where is his photo? I always wanted that album here and open! That's him. I clipped this from a sports magazine on the eve of their marriage. Tha caption blames a recent defeat on him. Mark this! His physique was more attracting than athletic. Then she made a choice that would not have occurred to you. Of course you knew that women marry for reasons you cannot foretell. They also marry without obvious reasons and, again without you being concerned

After getting married, he moved her from her culture-reviving ambiance to a peripheral setting fraught with infra-subsistence revelations and burgeoning emotions. Very early on, she dropped her previous contention for abortion along with tens of desires disclaimed. she maintained a foetus that was most likely disoriented and put on that eccentric attire to totally disrupt transmissions. It was no longer possible for her to return to metropolitan life. She glared at a printed word with complete stupor.
You will not redeem her by reminding her of those days of leverage. You think by sitting with her, you and your booted men, in any of your bureaucratic functions, you will redeem her? No sir! Forget it. It is of you that one is bereft. Always going to extremes in you petit prophecies.

She had delivered those exotic and varied speeches from mobile platforms at the students' cafe. Although she had talked seriously, you took the chance of her getting overwhelmed to pore over her body, not her talk. Her most enchanting corporal state revealed itself in the midst of her elocution. She had meant to show you that the world went on the very same way you thought it did not. She did not mean to embarrass you by that. The fate of things to her was so simple and devoid of surprises. It was her view that tales and anecdotes had their delights encapsulated into rubrics of directness and traditions of narration. She used to shoot at you: Talk like Brecht or Kafka and you never get things straightened!Her voice soared while her body, with it's delayed or rather subdued drives, did not seem to fit this very description. She would say,"They are the prophets of the ordinary, those who act according to courses and vicissitudes." She would ask you to "Take for instance.." a phrase she often used, "how those aliens entered our home?"
"It's a big story. They pierced through the tribal pride that took us decades to build and you know how?"
You would cling to your silence, knowing you weren't sure how. Then she would go on:
"O.K. Why did they stay so long? To teach us how to grow cotton? Why did they bring in the railroad? To flush your rural relatives into the alleys of Omdurman? Do you have definitive answers?"
You pondered the matter. Your face wore an affirmative expression. And, as if to commend that, she exclaimed,"Yes exactly! I would not take those twisted answers reiterated by the hypocrites! Forget them. They accepted half-truths or less. The fact is that we were dealt a fatal blow. Those aliens broke something that was deeply ensconced. Cherish was its essence, indeed. it is a simple and painful story."
But, because you had thought she went to extremes on that, you chose to watch, while she pled against what was held incontrovertible in that matter, with a passion that inflamed other passions and postures that concerned you a lot more. That scar did not concern you. The theory of defeat seemed to concern no one, either. It had no impact on the general sense of pride. Nothing made her face switch colors of denouncement like that little refrain she never tired of repeating: 'Even after they departed, we could not cope. Our denial of the scandal had trained us for more denials. We swept into labyrinthine roads, armed with obstinacy-the aggravation of denial. This a neurotic post-colonial reality'
Goodness! Beauty and mind gathered in one.

For thirty years, he was unable to see except through cracks in the husky ordinariness that encompassed him. Then, suddenly, one morning, while crossing the public road, he discovered how talented he was in forging methods of refusing the ordinary. He now wears one of those boots thea bang the ground in pursuit! He, too, is stretched out in some bleeding orbit, turning over his talent in his palms and blowing into them lest they be extinct.

Her's was an opposite transformation. Ordinariness was an axis she had known so well. A cradle that lulled the 'deeply rooted' in her. She leaned on it, sometimes, but mostly overstepped it. Then, it so happened that she lapsed into it, irretrievably.

- Don't try. It won't work.
- ...
- It is useless.
Don't butt the rock! Forget about her distinctions. You know where to get them.
- ....
- Abandon and don't cry. You really cry, eh? Well, if you cry....Are you crazy? I am telling you not to cry.
- ...
- Well, cool down a little. Be in your mind, fellow>
- ....
- Not to this extent. Don't. She won't be back.
- ....
- What the hell is this?

I leaned a little bit to the right to spit out a lump when I say them. They were still knocking the ground. Some of their details slid to float away, making me think...
Photos courtesy of Google.


Popular posts from this blog

MovieGlobe: Japan's Version of Romeo and Juliet

Romeo and Juliet (2007) JapanOriginal Article by: Fateh Mirghani-Japan

I have just finished watching the masterpiece of Shakespeare” Romeo and Juliet “in its Japanese version.
The quality of the movie is great and the soundtrack, injected with a little Japanese folklore music, has given it a sensational dimension and Eastern fascination!
Basically, the theme of the movie remains the same as the original play, and that has been a particular Japanese notion in dealing with other nations’ cultural products. Part of the reason may lay in Japan's sensitivity to other nations’cultural products- given the long standing historical disputes with its neighbours, and part of it may lay in a fierce sense of homogeneity that has come to characterize Japan as an island nation-state since time immemorial. Thus the Japanese, unlike the Americans, don’t seem to have the temerity to ‘Japanize’ others’ cultural stuff. The movie “Renaissance man”  can be cited as an example of American boldness. The …

Thursday Evening

Short Story by Ali Elmak* Translated by MM
Getting off the tram, he slipped. Was it the right or the left foot that skidded? It did not matter!  All that mattered really, all that he cared for at that hour, at that moment, was that he fell and soiled his pants. those characteristically beautiful white pants which he had preserved for Thursday evenings; for the soiree gatherings which started by hanging around in the market; loitering for short or long periods; then to the cinema house; any film and peace be upon him. Then, was this bad luck or what? Did he really need to take the tram for such a short distance? “That was a fair reward for your laziness” he said to himself. As for those pants, they were turned into a dusty colored thing. The more he shook those tiny particles off, the closer they became attached to the pants. Oh what a gloomy evening for you!  "Is this what concerned you?" thought he.

The posters of Alan Ladd and Van Heflin still stood their, at the cinema entrance.…

Movie Critic Review: Zorba The Greek (1964)

" All right, we go outside where God can see us better." Alexis Zorba "God has a very big heart but there is one sin he will not forgive; [slaps table] if a woman calls a man to her bed and he will not go. I know because a very wise old Turk told me." Alexis Zorba

Zorba (Anthony Quinn) with a lascivious look lays the gentle order, 'Two beds Madam. Without bugs!' Mme Hortense defiantly tilts her head and answers proudly, 'Mme has not THE bugs!'

The bookish intellectual Basil  (Alan Bates) who has appeared unaffected by the collective vertigo experienced on the boat taking them to Crete, did not seem interested in this outward and stimulated first-time exchange between his newly-found companion, a robust natural philosopher named Alexis Zorbas and this old lady who rushed  to offer them her hospitality services in her own (Marriot) of a dilapidated house on this island of pathos and the poor. Mme Hortense then treats the c…