Dear suru
dear suru
a gift for you
keep writing ... one day,insha Allah, you will be a great author
-vappicha
Asmabi
Your gold bangles chime against the bristle of the leaves, tender By the blooming verges of the winding river, your anklets sing. Asma did not have to race against time to scribble the words on her worn out state bank of India 2005 diary this once. She knew what was coming. Beneath the pale moonlit sky, your gentle smile shimmers Your silken drape quivers in the soft midnight breeze. Thaamasamenthe varuvaan praanasakhi ente munnil What keeps you from my side, O companion of my breath! The words were clear against the yellowing pages of the 2005 diary; unlike the last song. A broken ente swapnathin in one line, a neelathamara in the next. Perhaps the blind singer who sits by the beach will sing it another day. Or Asma will ask her to. She can fill the missing words then like an old class test. For Iqbal doctor, Asma’s race against the blind singer’s old Malayalam songs was a class test in memory. She’s been losing it. Last Monday, Iqbal doctor ...
Oh my dear liitle fairy,do come out of the bushes and show yourself to the world!
ReplyDeletego on..and on...
Dear friend Jasmine,
ReplyDeleteMake writing a habit. You don't know how many beautiful things you see, hear and feel every day. And then there are words...I will be following your blog to see how beautifully you use words to express your beautiful experiences.