ANATAALISMA:

THE MOUNTAINS OF SALT


 

EXCERPTS FROM MALOVEL :

Copyrighted Rahman,Brigitte Arlette


THE FOOTSTEPS IN HISWORDS

 

MALOVEL By Rahman, brigitte Arlette - copyrighted. Short Story: 0032/1000

The footsteps in his words

It was a tiny place, yet it felt immense like a quiet sea of greenery…The wind was playing the grass blades like a violin, the music immediately reached my soul as I came closer and closer to the huge white colonial house, which had a desolate look about it now….Noone was living there any longer….

I came closer to the wind and stayed lifeless for a few seconds…Yes, I recognized the tune, it played the tune of the last ball at the Governor's place years ago…For a moment, I could see there in the ballroom the proud English ladies seated with pretty porcelaine cups of tea in their hands…they looked so ravishing………

Yet, I felt uneasy and as I looked towards the buffet, there in the darkness, I felt the bright stare of the indian boy dressed in a silly uniform and his eyes spoke of hatred and humilation , and suddenly I heard the cup falling from the white gloved hand of the proud lady…….

It made a soft noise on the parquet floor…. The governor gave a hard look to the lady, his wife, the hostess…And she in turn gave him back a hard look and suddenly the ballroom had become a mirror gallery where stares of hatred were thrown from wall to wall……And I felt unwanted, I felt like crying……but I could not shed a tear……I did not even know why?

And I looked away at the window, and I left the governor's place orchestra music for the music that the wind was playing with the blades of the grass…Once one English man had been calling my name, he said I was the footsteps in his words, always would be so My feet were hurting….I had walked such a long distance….the footsteps in his words….I came for those…they were not here again this summer, noone had come…noone called me anymore I did not recognize anyone, and yet everyone saluted me and said "mam, can we give you a lift"……

In the eyes of the poor man, there was no hatred for me…..Why., did not I not wear white gloves too like the english ladies… And I looked at my hands, as if I woke from a sad dream, my hands were of copper colour with gold rings on my finger….My dress was of incredible beauty , sky blue and gold….and my hair long and scented with flowers…I could feel the gentle weight of my long silky tresse in my back reaching down to my waist…

-1/3-The Footsteps in his words- Copyrighted Rahman, brigitte Arlette- All rights reserved.

 

 

And all of a sudden, I understood that I was not from the Governor's house, why did I think of going there, I belonged to the Maharajja's house….I was one of his daughters….the footsteps in his words….like a mantra, my heart was void….and so painful since then..

Why did he have to leave for London? His majesty's orders he explained, I must… Shahnaz…my name was Shahnaz, yes why do I keep coming here, none called me anymore so beautifully: the footsteps in his words.My love, why have you not come again as you promised? My heart aches so much…. the white benz was waiting for me, the driver begged me good evening and said: mam, please come in the car as he held the door of the car open..

I lifted my silk skirt and was dazzled and anguished by the diamond anklet of my right ankle, the magic was magnetic….a white strong hand held my ankle for a split of a second as I stepped in the limousine , and the electricity going through my body then brought me back memory of who I truly was, I was the mistress the one who wants and the one who gets all that she wants….all but the call of the footsteps in his words…all but this calling in my life

I entered the car, and sat in the plush red velvet back seat…he was there, his blue eyes looked in mine as I locked the stare into mine until I mastered his resolve….He remained motionless and repeated the same ritual as always…he poured some drinks, pulled the curtain over the window separating the driver seat from the back compartment, he added some ice in the drink and brought it to my lips as he removed the hair pin and freed the nappe of my hair…I was of royal blood, and I kept my stare on him as he took some ice cubes and pushed them in the front of my silk blouse.

I pushed him back with my right feet, and sharply ordered him to make himself ready. He was an hypnotized pray, he surrendered his pride and became the toy of the spoilt little girl, one garnment at a time, he peeled, nothing moved in my face, my mind was following the journey of the melting of the cold liquidified ice cubes to my naked navel, meeting one more sparking diamond, the gold chain around my waist reminded me of the chains of passion I once shared with the calling in my life: the footsteps in his words . My lonely love….my heart was aching as the man next to me suffered the agony of the mere lust of the earth, when I agonized over the eternity void in my heartbeat. His breathing was so heavy, I let him there in pure humiliation in front of me….

I looked at him without moving, until he cried out for me, and when he finally dared to catch my ankle in desperation to bring me down to him, cruel, so cruel I scarred his pale face with a swift movement of my ankle, the diamond of the anklet cut his left cheek, a deep cut and blood started pouring from the fresh wound. I watched in gentle fascination..Now,yes. Now I was ready to receive him. From Mumbai to Bavnaghar, the diamond sparkled in the shade of the ruby love….silent and fiery….for several hours.

Then the palace of my family was ahead, I retied the strings of my clothing, redid my tresse, and told him out without a word…he begged me for another time, and I said not now, go…..and I watched him receeding to the size of a red ant in the distance. Like others before him, I would become but another point in time, a useless clue… He would never see me again, he was marked by the payel diamond, he was done, scared no good anymore…I would need a new one, a fresh face to scar…so easy to find, so easy to use, so easy to forget.

-2/3-The Footsteps in his words-Copyrighted Rahman, brigitte Arlette- All rights reserved.

 

 

 

Father was not at home, only the servants…..I went to the servants quarters, the girls were singing and dancing….

I watched over and joined in the dance..I became bored soon and, I clapped my finger and chose one servant whose face has been mutilated many times over, his eyes were fiery….he would stay the night with me, there was no need of diamond trails on his face any more , he had been tamed…..many nights over, a native toy……

Now time was short, tomorrow father will come home and we always are very busy at this time of the year. Yes tomorrow we would fly to London… and like every year since the last five years I would search for him everywhere in London, I would listen to all the calls to find the calling of my life, I would listen in so intently everywhere I went, I would walk in the rain, go to the theatre, dance in the clubs, go to libraries, play tennis, be in all the places he talked to me about then, in the hope to find him just for a short while again and hear his voice calling me just once more time: come to me you the footsteps in my words..

The calling in my life Was my footsteps in his words Would I find you there, my darling? I would be good, I promise. Copyrighted Rahman,Brigitte Arlette-2000-

-3/3-The footsteps in his words- Copyrighted Rahman, brigitte Arlette- All rights reserved.

 


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