Tell me what name to call you by
I’ve exhausted my dictionaries, trying to find that one letter
I’ve burned my thesaurus
onto a CD
and I sent it to you, asking to know your name.
I scaled the mountains and plumbed the seas looking for you,
Yet you dismissed me with every step you took
Away
from
me.
I learned to stop chasing you,
For you have no time, to lead me on a wild goose chase
You did it for her, you did it for her. You led her on a chase through the plateau of your dreams. I didn’t even get a spark,
from the fire that you kindled.
It was all for her,
your soulmate
Yet, haven’t you heard of kindred spirits?
Did not anyone ever tell you the story,
All the stories, so many stories.
You are a born storyteller,
and so am I.
You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth,
Mine was platinum,
Hers was gold.
I never asked you for the answers, I didn’t question you after your dismissal of me,
I went on my own goose chase,
running after the white stag into the depths of the green wood. I came out on the other side, and saw a new horizon.
Was it the same one she saw, when she found you and you found her? Don’t tell me, that’s personal,
and for me,
personal information is sacred.
I return to my books,
I forgot
I can’t remember,
which ones I sent you. I feel the absence of carelessly donated volumes,
volumes upon volumes of books that were pieces of my soul.
I searched for your name in parables and riddles,
but you led me to believe that you are not a puzzle to solve. Well, neither am I.
I am not a nut to crack,
yet
you cut me open
with. every. word. you. spoke.
I tried dismissing you,
I learned,
I thought I knew how to do that
But then you returned with another face,
and I struggled all over again.
This time, I knew better than to mess with letters. I turned to numbers.
In you and I, there is a dance of numbers, and everyone wants to know the equation.
E=mc squared,
yet I found you at the end of the horizon
at the bottom of the well
at the edge of the rainbow
I jumped off a waterfall
and found a soft landing.
How many paths did you take to avoid me? I find your footprints everywhere I go.
I burned new paths into my own consciousness.
But I exhausted numbers, too.
Funny, they say numbers are infinite,
yet mix infinity with zero and you get an atomic reaction.
I stretched myself like a piece of elastic,
and found your footprint at the edge of the world.
I finally abandoned equations,
I reduced myself to a dot
a speck
I became the baby universe enclosed in a nutshell, waiting for its big bang. But this time,
instead of expanding
instead of collapsing
a wormhole opened and sucked me through to the other side.
There is light here
and open space
and birds chirping.
I never thought I would ask this question again,
but you stripped yourself of your titles,
and I discarded all frameworks that shaped my thoughts,
you are but a concept
my spirit guide running ahead of me into the woods.
I’ve been here before
but this time there are no steps
not even yours.
Iqrawrites Originals
In an alternate reality
“Son, once you get married, there’s no coming back. Once you’re married, you’re married. That’s your identity for life.”
“Being a man, it’s your full responsibility to make your wife happy. If you fail in making your wife happy, you have failed as a person.”
“Brother, you must know, you have to keep yourself well groomed for your wife. If you leave your stomach hanging out and your nose hair untrimmed, she’s going to look at other men.”
“It’s a guy thing. You have to know how to fix your own breakfast and make a cup of tea. What are you going to do when your wife is sick or out of the house? Hang around starving until she’s there to serve you? No. That’s just not how we men do things.”
“Keep your wife happy. That’s very important. No matter what happens, never talk back to her. Never argue with her.”
“You are going to disgrace me in front of your in-laws if you do that. You’ll never be successful as a husband.”
“Thank you for doing this task for me. May Allah bless you with a good wife and children.”
“You have to do this degree. There’s no way anyone will choose you for a husband otherwise.”
“I am so angry at you! You are going to remain a childless bachelor all your life!”
“Go help your little brother with his Maths homework right now. How will you teach your children once you’re a father?”
“That’s not how manly boys sit. Sit with your legs closed. And don’t take up enough space for two people.”
***
I had lots of fun writing this. Add your own “marriage advice/remarks from an alternate reality” in the comments!
Dental Doldrums
Regular students just get paper cuts.
Me?
I have
plaster knife cuts
from digging out cured appliances from their plaster moulds
I have
wax burns
melted wax dripping down the wax knife onto my skin
I have
gouged nails
from whirring burs slipping along one hand onto the other
And then there’s the
ever present danger of
needle prick injury
Three marks short essay question, how to manage needle stick injury from confirmed patient of hepatitis B?
The answer is get an antibody shot pronto, blood titer checked, Engerix B booster dose if needed.
But you don’t need to know that
because you’re busy sucking on your paper cut
cursing that darned paper clip for stepping out of line.
***
(A little something I wrote in November 2014.)
Iqra Writes 