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As my heart starts pumpin,my feet thumpin, i feel the rush

Posted on: Mar 22, '08

The Traveler

      “You must say what is in your heart,” he prodded her gently. She sucked in her breadth, and racked her long silken hair with her nails. Speak her mind and let him catch a glimpse of what burned within her soul? All her life she had choked on her feelings tides of emotions that had torn her apart, but she had kept still, and now to break that iron clasp? Did she even remember the whisper of her heart?
She looked deeply into his eyes, into the eternal sea of compassion, and pleaded helplessly. He smiled gently and said, “ Tell me what you feel.”
“ I feel very happy, more happy then I have ever felt in my life,” She answered.
“ Happy? Anything else?”
“ A warm, sweet feeling in my heart, compassion. I feel confused. This is something strange to me, and don’t understand it. I do not know you that well, this is only our third meeting, so why do I feel overwhelmed with such affections for you?” she replied, feeling lost and entangled in her thoughts.
“ This is the first time you have loved a man,” he stated. It was not a question, an assumption, but a conclusion of what was obvious. She nodded, wondering where this would all lead.
“Do you feel loved?”
“ I can sense it in your gaze, in your speech, and your touch.”
When had Akbar ever spoken of love? Certainly not on her wedding night. She was still a young girl, a stranger to the land of courtship, never to have tasted from the cup of affections, and fearful of the role cast her side. And Akbar had not been considerate, but had his way.
“ You will grow to love me,” he had reassured her in face of her concerns that she felt nothing for the man with whom she shared her bed every night. At first she had accepted and anticipated, on the contrary though she felt a stranger in her own skin, an observer to the act of love.
         Her mother had warned her, forebodingly, “ you must learn to mold yourself to every situation that will arise in your marriage. A woman is like wax, and a man her seal. She bears with patience whatever he imprints.” Her heart trembled with fear at these words, as she pictured her life with the aged man. She had not left without a fight. She had pulled all her strings, thrown a fit in front of her father, slapped and whipped with a stick till she had obliged, and submitted to their decision. Thus was their marriage sealed.
         “ I love you very much, love you from the core of my heart, from the depth of my soul,” she whispered.
“ I loved you from the instant we met, I knew that I would have you as my wife.”
How strange, she wondered. To say such things to a married woman, pregnant with the child of another man. She rubbed the new swelling in her belly tenderly. Her eyes strayed to the mud and wood patched homes, the dirt roads littered with mounds of dung from cattle, at the market places which no longer bustled with customers. It was only last Friday that a man’s back was reduced to a bloody tissue, eighty lashes till most of the flesh was licked away, and he was left swathing in agony as flies buzzed lazily on his back, punishment administered by the Taliban. His crime-adultery. She studied her hands that had grown rough and cracked, belonging to an elderly, alien to her own self, at her green tunic with its frayed edges, cloaked with dust and stains. Finally, she raised her head, looked into his eyes, feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders as she spoke, “ Meet me here before sunrise. I’ll go home to collect my things.”
It was nearing dusk now, and Akbar would be home soon. She rose suddenly, gathering her skirts, spun on her heels and broke into a sprint. The house was empty when she got there. Quickly she lighted the stove, and set the pot. She watched as her hands went through the motions of preparing the meal, while her thoughts strayed to all that awaited if their plan failed, and Akbar sensed a change in her demeanor. No, she willed herself to the moment, and laid aside tomorrow’s adventure.
by FR.

Tags: marriage, love

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ASYLUM said:
Oh I hope she runs away and I pray for a happy ending. I got really nervous with her. Love or customs? The choice ought to be personal by ethics but it's always tied to the community by law.

March 23, '08

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