El Alma Vive .

10:47 pm
No electricity .
Sister plays songs on her phone .
I slow dance in the dark with my nokia’s flash light .
The room is empty . .

Mom arrives in the dark room .
I dance behind my mom too , feeling mischievously elegant . Is that combination a possiblity ? Tell me , do .

And then  ,   . .
I step on to the wooden stage . A square stage .
And everything changes .
I’m wearing a deep dark marun flow down dress , my arms wrapped in a dark , knitted shawl . .
and the dark room is no more existent .
. . A low roofed hall , with tables set . .  . .. no , not bright  . . The hushed candle lighted shades make up the ambience  . .
It is cold but I am deliciously warm like the candles .
There are people but no one sees me
no one talks to me
yet
I feel ecstatic .
I step down from the small stage ,
I go to every table and look at every face
talking but no sound is heard but the music . .
from table to table I sway , until I see you sitting among the negro band players . .

My eyes widen at the soothing  sight , the spectacle  . .

My excited senses settle down , slowly drinking you in , until they are serene .
They don’t play , the jolly negros , they laugh and talk and so do you , giving your half smiles every now and then
I secretly smile and swirl , round and round the group , enjoying the view . . .  specially when I know they can’t point me out . .
I sneak to the violins . .
and take one of them and pretend to play it with the music and there I go sauntering , . .
Or should I say , . . slow dancing on my tip toes with the violin . .
The atmosphere is perfect
and every now and then I stop , a heartbeat to glance your way and smile . . .

‘tum huay meherban
tou hai ye dastan’

 

– it goes to your generosity
that there exists a symphony , a tale –

– Gitana , amidst romance , among the candle lighted tables in my mind –

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