Evening of Twilight

At the pool once again. Now alone. My husband was wandering somewhere inside the building, perhaps, leaving his French fish soup cold and crumpled. The sun was beautifully setting as always in the heart of the city of Bangkok. The soft light breeze was blowing nicely but sadly in the evening of the last Monday of March 2008. The jazz music was on while the half naked men were having relaxing time of their own. No girl. And that may be the reason for relaxing. Yellow beams were turning on as the sun light slowly left the earth. The sky was getting gray as the city light was brighter. Night creatures were awake and started flapping their wings behind the trees.

Away from the city, in a busy corner of the town, it was my house standing there for more than 40 years. I have never known I can never leave the place where my mum was.

I was dreaming of a horizon-end grass field in the wild. I walked on the green green grass with my beautiful oriental glittering shoes made of leather, embroidered nicely and neatly with bright colors flower motives. My sari was vivid fuchsia woven tightly with bright yellow and cyan blue. Thousands of tiny silver and gold dots made up hypnotizing Ghat Chola. Flamboyant ivy was laced curvy on the rims and encircled with star embellishments. Glittery gold was twined with blue topaz, bright red ruby, and star cobalt sapphire around my forehead and sweetly curved under hair to hang from top of my ears to shoulders. Extravaganza gleamed with precious gemstones, golden shimmer hung around my neck from end to end. I was high. My body was light and my feet barely touched the ground. It was getting dark and I was running back to the edge of nowhere. Tabala was rumbled at the distance. It was time to dance.

The oil-lit lamps were all over the place as drums and folk strings kept on the beat. In the middle of the largest tent, a yellow plane was encircled with scented candles twinkling like a flock of night flyfires in heaven. It was a heaven on earth. Fully-adorned with traditional garments, men sat down on flawless Persian carpets enjoying aromatic tobacco and staring at endless ritual and sanctuary dances of feather-whizzed in the performer’s bodies.

In remembrance of my all time favorite dance master, Uday, whose brunette complexion could glow beyond the hyper rainbow and was one of the greatest combinations of god-created men alive. His smile could un-blind ones who lost their sight and his sparkling eyes could light up the deepest and darkest corner of the earth. Shadows of his moves shone brightly over the flattering girls in vibrant silks from Rajasthan. Tinkling of bangles and anklets made a sound of extreme joy at night as they turned round and round. It was in my dream where reality could not reach.

The dream was never faded. It has been kept in my heart when I was awake. My husband came back and started picking up his cell phone again. My dream box was securely locked and kept aside. Time for duty.