Posted:
I will burst out crying.
Its maybe such prosaic people, who inspired poetry. not the kind where the language turns seductive, and moves in choreographed motions, and speaks of textures , of the tangible and the probable.
The kind of prosaic that this man is, Sultan, he inspires poetry that does not speak, but moves , moves as only wind can, and as a river can.. selfless and unrestrained, and complete. Yet, imbibing and rich.
He makes for the colors which can only be felt with eyes,closed. And in deep breaths , and on a thirsty skin.
To know that ,that is how he loves her , make for a wrenching pain inside. Could there be anything more passionate than that? For someone else's wish , to be able to smother your own every single time. To be able to live through the sharp stabbing pain it brings yet be unable and unwilling to bear a moment of their distrust and disappointment.
For a man like him, to contain himself of his own accord, for her. Only her. For it was only through observing her, listening to her, that he has, knowledge about her, that can only be felt in the bones. How much more intimate and consuming can it get?
He is her's. So all her's already.
When he stood like that, contained and quiet , and even a bit hurt, that Padmini should ask this of him maybe cause its assumed his profession would make it easy for her, those moments, those moments when he's thinking of her and describing what he can and cannot do, they make my breath stuck. They reveal so much.. as his eyes seem desperately searching for something in their own depths. Like nothing in this world could keep them from drowning in themselves, except...
I am in love with Sultan. What an incredibly beautiful and passionate man,god..
Anupamaa
