She stood on The Balcony looking down. Far down..so incredibly small were the teeming masses of humanity on four wheels, rushing past her....
Tee got up that morning a little groggier than her usual self. She had been up almost the entire night reading Somerset Maugham .The Razor's edge. She couldn’t help but reflect on how appropriate the title was to the contents of the book. She thought to herself as she slipped into her housecoat. She did not need to. She felt quite attractive as she looked into the mirror. She turned around and gave herself a critical look over. Not bad at all. Her long hours at the gymnasium had started to pay off. She wanted to walk out into the living room in her shorts and tank top. She almost did. After all there was nobody in the house! She could afford to be a bit daring when no one was watching!! Oh well..its the thought that counts. R would totally disagree. She slipped into her old housecoat and walked out into the kitchen to make herself breakfast, which was a meager fare of cereals with raisin and milk. The only exciting part of her breakfast chore was the coffee. Ah! the smell of the fresh brew as she watered her plants. The thought brought a smile to her lips.
A poet with the vision, would tell you how pretty and soft a picture she made, standing there smiling to herself in the old housecoat with the morning light catching the ends of the disobedient strands of her locks. He would title it, 'She'. But if the poet was so unimaginative as to stop writing to tell her that 'she' was the inspiration of his morning poetry, she would only look up at him with her big, soft eyes, smile that same smile, and tell him how she often wondered if there lay something beyond the looking glass that would make her beautiful every single morning....
She felt comfortable in her housecoat. There was a nip in the air outside. The first of the Fall days were here. Time for maple syrups, light sweaters and cinnamon smells!! Her mind was still on Maugham and the ending of the '..edge'. As she started making her usual brand of coffee, she remembered that hot afternoon just two weeks ago, when she was browsing through the book store ...
The bookstore was in the basement on a tiny street just across a local 'tea and sandwich' shop. The store had a rich collection of cheap, second hand books and it was secluded from the regular hustle-bustle of the square, which is one of the many reasons why Tee loved browsing through its stacks for hours on end. So many titles..mostly unknown. Usually she would take ages to select a book which she would decide to buy and keep on reading. That afternoon, however, she had just started to look around and this title -' The razor's edge' caught her attention. And before she even finished reading the first paragraph, she wanted to keep reading it..
Well, she always had a knack for titles and more often than not she would end up buying books just based on a title. And today morning she was not regretting her decision from two weeks ago. But she carried over her obsession for good titles to other forms of arts as well and on this one point she got into bad arguments with R. Now, R was a photographer and a man of few words and a restless mind. He believed in content. Strongly and truely and completely. He breathed pictures. But he did not spend any time giving those appropriate titles which, she thought they deserved. That was exasperating to Tee. She would have loved if R gave the matter some thought. But he didn't and neither was there any hope he would. Why, just yesterday night they were into this long discussion about the importance of titles to any form photographs and it had ended in total disagreement and Tee had gone off to bed, alone, to read Maugham. At this point I should probably tell the reader that Tee herself enjoys taking pictures and is not too bad at it either. Today morning R had left earlier and she had grudgingly agreed to herself that, after all she had loved the book for its content and not the title..but..she bought it in the first place for the title..oh well..it wouldn't apply if she were buying pictures..but he still should give it some thought..after all it was also a form of art!!!........
Later that day something happened.
As Tee was walking to work, enjoying the crisp air, she spotted a 'poster sale'. A young girl was minding the booth. She looked like a middle school kid. Tee went over to her and requested for the catalog. She looked through it several times and finally decided on one. It had on it 'catalog number 3598'. And so Tee and the girl started looking through the boxes for number 3598. There were so many numbers it was getting tedious. Tee was almost giving up the search, when another girl, slightly older, walked in. And she asked which number they were looking for, and they said in unison, 'number 3598'. So the three of them searched together for yet some more time. The older girl got exasperated soon and asked', what's the title/name of the picture?’. Tee got irritated with herself. Now, why hadn't she thought of the title before? She quickly looked over at the catalog and repeated,’ The Balcony'. They located the poster in another two seconds.
It was right there in front of their eyes all the time. And as the younger girl brought out the poster..the lady looked at them from atop her ivory castle..Tee said, a little loudly to herself, 'why of course it is her balcony, indeed'!
A poet with the vision, would tell you how pretty and soft a picture she made, standing there smiling to herself in the old housecoat with the morning light catching the ends of the disobedient strands of her locks. He would title it, 'She'. But if the poet was so unimaginative as to stop writing to tell her that 'she' was the inspiration of his morning poetry, she would only look up at him with her big, soft eyes, smile that same smile, and tell him how she often wondered if there lay something beyond the looking glass that would make her beautiful every single morning....
She felt comfortable in her housecoat. There was a nip in the air outside. The first of the Fall days were here. Time for maple syrups, light sweaters and cinnamon smells!! Her mind was still on Maugham and the ending of the '..edge'. As she started making her usual brand of coffee, she remembered that hot afternoon just two weeks ago, when she was browsing through the book store ...
The bookstore was in the basement on a tiny street just across a local 'tea and sandwich' shop. The store had a rich collection of cheap, second hand books and it was secluded from the regular hustle-bustle of the square, which is one of the many reasons why Tee loved browsing through its stacks for hours on end. So many titles..mostly unknown. Usually she would take ages to select a book which she would decide to buy and keep on reading. That afternoon, however, she had just started to look around and this title -' The razor's edge' caught her attention. And before she even finished reading the first paragraph, she wanted to keep reading it..
Well, she always had a knack for titles and more often than not she would end up buying books just based on a title. And today morning she was not regretting her decision from two weeks ago. But she carried over her obsession for good titles to other forms of arts as well and on this one point she got into bad arguments with R. Now, R was a photographer and a man of few words and a restless mind. He believed in content. Strongly and truely and completely. He breathed pictures. But he did not spend any time giving those appropriate titles which, she thought they deserved. That was exasperating to Tee. She would have loved if R gave the matter some thought. But he didn't and neither was there any hope he would. Why, just yesterday night they were into this long discussion about the importance of titles to any form photographs and it had ended in total disagreement and Tee had gone off to bed, alone, to read Maugham. At this point I should probably tell the reader that Tee herself enjoys taking pictures and is not too bad at it either. Today morning R had left earlier and she had grudgingly agreed to herself that, after all she had loved the book for its content and not the title..but..she bought it in the first place for the title..oh well..it wouldn't apply if she were buying pictures..but he still should give it some thought..after all it was also a form of art!!!........
Later that day something happened.
As Tee was walking to work, enjoying the crisp air, she spotted a 'poster sale'. A young girl was minding the booth. She looked like a middle school kid. Tee went over to her and requested for the catalog. She looked through it several times and finally decided on one. It had on it 'catalog number 3598'. And so Tee and the girl started looking through the boxes for number 3598. There were so many numbers it was getting tedious. Tee was almost giving up the search, when another girl, slightly older, walked in. And she asked which number they were looking for, and they said in unison, 'number 3598'. So the three of them searched together for yet some more time. The older girl got exasperated soon and asked', what's the title/name of the picture?’. Tee got irritated with herself. Now, why hadn't she thought of the title before? She quickly looked over at the catalog and repeated,’ The Balcony'. They located the poster in another two seconds.
It was right there in front of their eyes all the time. And as the younger girl brought out the poster..the lady looked at them from atop her ivory castle..Tee said, a little loudly to herself, 'why of course it is her balcony, indeed'!
Picture taken from allposters.com
1 comment:
What to say....me poor with words...bheri good....bariya hai!
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