A cloud burst seems imminent.
The gypsy girl must find her feet again before she gets swept away. After months of holding the fort, of laughter and gaiety, of patting it all down and saying it doesn’t matter, she’s slowly beginning to sense feeling creep back into her toes.
Reawakened memory, like muscles can be painful.
And all the king’s men couldn’t put humpty back together again.
Ha ha.
Ha.
Only idiots try to repair eggshells. But some hearts are made of sterner stuff, innit?
Left right
Right left
Left right
So it goes.
Riddle:
How do you divorce your head from unreality?
Answer:
Simple, just pick up your toes and walk.
Where will gypsy girl’s feet take her this time?
Hold my hand and lead the way Mama.
I’m back on the road
With a head-full of memories, frayed sleeves, and a worn out red skirt.
***
Perhaps it’s the lack of sleep. Or an imminent journey after four years of no vacation to a part of the world I’d best leave unexplored... Perhaps it’s because Ustad Bismillah Khan passed away, and ma cried for him today.
A shy young beautiful girl lost in unspoken dreams was stringing up orange-yellow marigolds at the main hall in BHU [Banaras Hindu University], in the sun-kissed city of Banaras when Ustad Bismillah Khan walked in and put his shehnai to his lips. That day he changed yet another life with his piercing soulful notes. Thirty-five years later, she still recounts how she hadn’t been able to stop her tears.
***
Something threatens to break.
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5 comments:
My heart skipped a beat when I your post first appeared---"some dams are breaking", after I had just written about my broken dam--- How ironic----- and coincidental!!! It amazes me how interconnected these blog bonds have become, paying no matter to age, race, nationality, or creed-- just sharing and caring---And your posts are part of my daily diet--they make me laugh, and think, and feel--- hugs to you, whoever you are!!! ;)
You know, such is the stuff that legends are made of. 35 years ago she saw him and heard him and he moved her so much that 35 years later she cried for him when she heard he was no more. 420 months. more than 12000 days. she still remembered. he made her remember. i would do anything to be able to do that to someone. absolutely anything.
RIP Ustad Bismillah Khansaab.
Darling NanNan, these tears won't stop. They have no meaning, just salt on my lips and a leaking sky. that's all. right now, you are so loved. big hug to you NanNan. I read your post. And I read the comments. And... I wish sometimes I was a rainy cloud and I could drizzle down a warm tropical hug.
NG, I've always always all my life thought of my mother when I've read about or heard Ustad Bismillah Khan. It's shocking how some losses can seem so intensely personal and yet have nothing to do with your life, tangibly at least.
I used to think that it was more important to affect people so they remembered you... but now I see things otherwise. It's better to love with a burning intensity than be loved and not feel a thing.
And I'm glad I've understood this.
Thank you H, for the caring- I taste the salt and feel the hug---
And I feel, almost four years, later
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