Tuesday, 7 June 2011

This Lady I Loved

Image Credit: google.com

Matters of love always confuse me
Why is it that when you love someone
So much so that the mention of their names
Causes you goosepimples
Yet they wouldn't care a jot?

And why is it that the one that loves you
Always calling, always being kind, always loving you
This one you ignore her calls and never care for a minute?
Why is this so?

This is my love story:
Once upon a time
On the slopy grassy fields of my heart
I had love...I loved this fair lady
So I sat down one night
With a dictionary, a writing pad
and love buzzing in my head
I wrote my first draft letter
Cancelled it, wrote another, cancelled it
Finally, I wrote her the final copy
With the best handwriting that my English teacher
Would have praised
Then I sprayed it with a little perfume
So that when she opens it
She would be hypnotized by my fragrance

Many weeks later, I got her reply
Nay, my own letter
With a red pen, she had corrected
my spelling errors, grammar, subject-verb, coherence, whatnot
Below it, she had written:
'6/20 Fair. Proof-read your work!'
As I sat in the dormitory
My cube-mates laughed irritatingly
Some leaning on the wall, others holding their sides
I wondered what was so funny!

But undaunted, I gathered my broken self
And carefully planned and executed my plan
So I joined the Scouts, the Y.C.S, the Drama Club
the Child-to-Child Club, the History Club, the Language Club
All to impress her
But she never noticed the passing shadow of my left ear!
Her friend actually confided in me
That she said that 'I am all over the place-
As if I wanted to be the Board of Governors Chairman'
So I changed my tact
And turned to my books
I read to impress her
To show her that the brightness gene
Was passed down our family line
And that I was the next best brain
The world was to worry about
Oh, how I Immersed myself in books
I made calculus sound like market chatter
I read ahead of the teacher and asked questions
Just to prove my worth to her
I carried around those big voluminous Physics books
And made sure she saw me
yet if she asked me why electricity wire lines slacken
I would collapse ( Well, she would have taken my brightness away)
All these I did- but she hardly noticed me!

Then a friend suggested poetry
I also tried it
I had to read Mills and Boons
Romance novels, David's Rubadiri
Songs of Songs, the Horn of My Love
To capture well the emotions of my heart
To tell her that if what I was going through
Was part of her 'Love Test'
Then my commendation was long overdue
In that poetry, I combined assonance, alliteration
imagery, repetition, onomatopoeia, love-manio-poeia
And so many other poeais-
All to good effect of
Telling her that I meant what I said
I went to the trouble of asking my English teacher
to 'look at it'
Before I send it 'for publication in the papers'
After this, I surreptitiously slipped the poem
Between her biology book covers
She read it later that night, came back next morning
Hollered at me: 'Salem, poetry is not my thing!
Then she slapped my poem on the desk and said,
'Here! Leave me alone'
I wanted to tell her it took me one week to write
that poem but I had been shhhed.

But I did not leave her alone
It was as if for every drama she unleashed
I loved her even more
All I wanted was for her to listen to me
To tell her that she was 'killing me softly'
All I wanted was to play badminton with her
Play so well, dazzle her with the shuttle cock and the racquet
All I wanted was to do anything for her:
Write for her her notes, answer for her questions in class if need be,
Assist her with maths problems even if I was a dummy, hear her fears
and hopes, motivate her, encourage her, do anything to marry her!
All I ever wanted was one micro-second of her attention, one twitching smile,
One laugh, just one coy, shy look

All these she eluded from me
I would sit in the study room
And hear her whisper:
'Salem, all along I always loved you...
I still do, always will'
My other part would say:
'C'mon, Salem, who are you kidding
Never worked, never will...no hating,
Just a brotherly truth...don't shame the
I would discredit this voice and feel pain
Stab at my heart
An image of the slapped poem on the desk
Would blind me
I would see her sashaying away, away from me
And there I would stand
Pleading with her, beseeching her, begging her
Calling upon her to give me an 1/8th of a chance
Just one conversation, just one fleeting moment
To shed her a tear
But she will be gone
And I will sit in the study room
Reading, re-reading, de-reading
One line or a paragraph
For the next two hours
And never understand a comma.

C) Lorot Salem 2011


Andy said...

Laughing...Oh Salem...you are indeed a man of many talents! You've got me chuckling with this one. I don't know where to begin..the whole story is a masterpiece.

She should have given you a fleeting glance for effort!

This is indeed a trillema...nice one!

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Oh this is the crux of the problem between men and women. Women love men who treat them badly and never see the one who really loves her standing there with his good heart. And men trail after women who dont want them and ignore the quiet shy ones who would be thrilled to be noticed.You have expressed this for all of us in the world whom love has eluded and you have done it so well. I could see the whole thing play out. Now that girl probably has a crush on some jock who treats her like crap, right?????? You are such a good writer! She is missing out!!!!!

Sherry Blue Sky said...

p.s. I love the photo - at first I thought it was two polar bears kissing, then saw it is two hands:)

Mary said...

Salem, I truly believe that someday (after you grow to the person you are destined to be in life) and she looks back on who she could have had, it will be she who will regret....but it will be too late. A wonderfully honest write.

Salem Lorot said...

@ Andy, once again thanks a lot. I wish she could read this ( he he)

@ Sherry Blue Sky, asante sana Koko. I agree with you. Contradictions abound. The lover and the loved are always in some fix or another. It is the old story with that twist. Well, I forgot to mention that the events in this poem happened ( or were set to happen) in High School. Whereas it might not necessarily follow that the characters here reflect true persons ( oh, that line again)there is a lot of truth in the catalogue of events spelt out here. I wish she could read these comments then...may be she could have changed her mind.

Oh, thanks about the photo. I also looked at it afresh with polar bears kissing and I laughed at the truth in this. Same picture, different interpretation. Once a poetess, always a poetess.

@ Mary, thank you so much. Much water has passed under the bridge now and the difference is there. Thanks again.

Raining Iguanas said...

Hearts of young men are complex and full of pain. One day you will find true warmth with an open and caring soul. One day you will see clear. But not today. Probably not tomorrow, but you will, someday...

Salem Lorot said...

@ Raining Iguanas, wise counsel from you. May be with time I will better placed. Lives of the young are sometimes misty in some issues, like love. Thank you for dropping by.

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