Posted:
My husband is not home. He isn't at any border, he's just away, and has been gone for a while. So, I sat here, alone, before my laptop, casually browsing, waiting for the first tendrils of sleep. You posted, I was alerted, and delighted. I thought to myself, "Shringara hobe, it'll be nice and sensual, I'll distract myself with Senbon's work". I reserved my spot, all excited about the length, and got to reading.
The next thing I knew, music was playing, a song I hadn't heard before, in a language I barely recognized as Hindi. Puzzled, I checked the browsers, and realized you had imbedded this song. I indulged you ( I cannot read to music, usually) and left it playing. I am ridiculously susceptible to music, and wary of distractions that a bad song can provide. But, this was you. You would not give me a "Palat, tera hero idhar hai" in a Navarasa, would you? I trust very few people to enhance my reading like this, but your work, and the confidence I had, and the curiosity of why you'd chose this song---made me do it.
Already, there was a burning in my heart, from the haunting lyrics, from the painful longing voiced singing to me that was alerting me to stop reading. Like a sixth sense, it warned me that I was going to experience something I probably didn't even want to feel at this moment. Recklessly, I went on. I will tell you, right now, I feel as if someone's punched me in the gut. I was looking for a nice read, and instead, I feel almost like a voyeur, watching two people so deeply in love, so celestially tied together, it felt almost frightening to me. I felt nervous, as if Id get caught watching such intimacy, such a raw display of love and sensuality and cherishing care -- that by all rights, I would be accused of being a peeping tom in front of a couple's bedroom window. A couple totally wrapped up in each other's existence, in making love.
And they are a hundred miles apart, on the phone, as physically apart as they can be. I watched love making without either body unclothed, either arms filled, or either hearts beating against each other. And still, I cried, as I watch them love each other.
I rarely get emotional when I read pieces, because I am too busy analyzing language, appreciating word choices, imagery, etc. So, I am sorry, I wont be able to give you any feedback for what you've written here, though I vaguely remember a passage between my tears, that struck me. Something about the setting sun, and her ritual. And one more, about his laughter and Bholenath never creating another such sound. Other than those two, I am sorry. I was a blur of such intense emotions, I found myself peering at the screen half-way through, in tears,
You'll probably write many more pieces on Rangrasiya, and on other characters. You'll probably create many more pieces. But I want to tell you. You will never best this. You will reach this height, you will write beautifully, be appreciated for many other pieces. But for this reader at least, this will stay apart, in a niche all to itself. Your writing will mature, as you do. But the raw passion of a non passionate story--that will keep this piece it its own place. I'm sorry. I'm being ridiculously vague, but I cannot, I literally cannot comment on this further without crying. I will re-read, another day. I know I must re-read, slowly, to appreciate it later. But for today, please accept my awe, instead. I loved it, and you for creating it. Bas.
The next thing I knew, music was playing, a song I hadn't heard before, in a language I barely recognized as Hindi. Puzzled, I checked the browsers, and realized you had imbedded this song. I indulged you ( I cannot read to music, usually) and left it playing. I am ridiculously susceptible to music, and wary of distractions that a bad song can provide. But, this was you. You would not give me a "Palat, tera hero idhar hai" in a Navarasa, would you? I trust very few people to enhance my reading like this, but your work, and the confidence I had, and the curiosity of why you'd chose this song---made me do it.
Already, there was a burning in my heart, from the haunting lyrics, from the painful longing voiced singing to me that was alerting me to stop reading. Like a sixth sense, it warned me that I was going to experience something I probably didn't even want to feel at this moment. Recklessly, I went on. I will tell you, right now, I feel as if someone's punched me in the gut. I was looking for a nice read, and instead, I feel almost like a voyeur, watching two people so deeply in love, so celestially tied together, it felt almost frightening to me. I felt nervous, as if Id get caught watching such intimacy, such a raw display of love and sensuality and cherishing care -- that by all rights, I would be accused of being a peeping tom in front of a couple's bedroom window. A couple totally wrapped up in each other's existence, in making love.
And they are a hundred miles apart, on the phone, as physically apart as they can be. I watched love making without either body unclothed, either arms filled, or either hearts beating against each other. And still, I cried, as I watch them love each other.
I rarely get emotional when I read pieces, because I am too busy analyzing language, appreciating word choices, imagery, etc. So, I am sorry, I wont be able to give you any feedback for what you've written here, though I vaguely remember a passage between my tears, that struck me. Something about the setting sun, and her ritual. And one more, about his laughter and Bholenath never creating another such sound. Other than those two, I am sorry. I was a blur of such intense emotions, I found myself peering at the screen half-way through, in tears,
You'll probably write many more pieces on Rangrasiya, and on other characters. You'll probably create many more pieces. But I want to tell you. You will never best this. You will reach this height, you will write beautifully, be appreciated for many other pieces. But for this reader at least, this will stay apart, in a niche all to itself. Your writing will mature, as you do. But the raw passion of a non passionate story--that will keep this piece it its own place. I'm sorry. I'm being ridiculously vague, but I cannot, I literally cannot comment on this further without crying. I will re-read, another day. I know I must re-read, slowly, to appreciate it later. But for today, please accept my awe, instead. I loved it, and you for creating it. Bas.
Cricket
Kumkum Bhagya
