Thursday, November 2, 2006

I still have that picture, taken not many birthdays ago. I wish I were back there, still don’t know what exactly I would have to change, but maybe I could revel in my ignorance and thusly in my bliss. Make my hand rove over the picture freely, alas, it’s not real and I seem to have forgotten the touch of that skin and the smell of it. No, it’s still somewhere hidden in some alcove I deliberate to forget but trying to forget does not make it non-existent, it still remains where it was, giving shelter to the illusion which should never have been.
Stared at the picture for a good third of the hour, such reminiscence a man could have I did not think possible, well, the irony of fate again, it turned out wrong and it was proved with me as the object of experiment.
Have the small anklet too, the one I helped in making, I stole it after it was worn a couple of times. Kept it in the small drawer that I allow nobody access to. However, it was opened once and the voyeur generously punished and since then never I believe it happened again.
Played with the anklet for another third of the hour. Still smells of the skin it was meant for; or maybe it’s an olfactory phantasm.
Cost me more than two hours to look into that drawer, also the anti-frissons it costs seems a rather expensive affair to be longing so dearly for the past.
Moreover, I have the other small trinkets, yes, maybe they have been forgotten, for I stole them all too.
I stole almost everything I could; everything I could have survived with what was yours’ when you weren’t around. But yes, somebody did say once stealing was a bad habit, and see the price I am paying.
Even then I think I just couldn’t steal what I actually should have…
It was you, woman.
It was you.
You didn’t let me or maybe I just failed to.

Sudhir Sharma