Sunkissed! When golden rays of the morning sun strike your face; the yellow-orange aura
almost blinds you but at the very moment the happiness that fills your heart ignites a
lifelong spark. The warmth, the subtle singe of the sun rays lift the floating emotions of the
night to a new high.
Sunshine! That’s what he used to call her. Her smile had the same effect on him. The wide
curve of her face used to irradiate the darkest corners of his persona. There was unusually
positive vibe about her. Some called it her frisky nature but there was more to it that he
Years ago they crashed into each other at a design class; it wasn’t by accident. He was
unusually odd & she was liveliest in the studio. Both exactly the opposites. Somewhere in
the span; stretched over a few years & thousands of heartbeats; they both knew that they
share a beautiful yet unexplainable bond. Cloaked in friendship, painted in excuses; they
both knew how valuable possession they share. An unnamed connection, an entity build over
perplexed emotions & concealed thoughts. Their untitled bond never fails; instead with time
it has matured into something unexplainably beautiful.
He was a masterful illusionist of thoughts; she was a phoenix in disguise. Both failed &
tormented in previous lives; yet both survived; away from one another, only to reunite. She
admired his lexical tricks; he loved her vibrant persona. Every time they meet, their
conversations went deeper than spoken words. Their dialogues constructed a lyrical
narrative. A narrative that stretches over lengths that no script could hold or no ink could
S.N.Hussain – 10th, May, 2016
And she combed her gold streaked hair with her long sleek fingers, having sharp nails brilliantly painted in red. A cool breeze blew from the East diffusing the fragrance of her cologne over my face. I gasped & closed my eyes to feel aromatized wind! I quivered back to life when the driver of the bus we were travelling in applied the breaks and we stopped on the red light. I immediately looked for my pencil case & sketchpad. I wanted to draw this artistic gesture of her hand. As soon as I was ready to scratch a line on paper; the traffic signal turned green and instantly we both were moving again, in the same yet very different directions.
It was a fine evening of early fall. The interplay of headlights over clear charming face continued as we roamed, wandered in the metropolis together on different seats of the same bus. I could still see & feel the freshness on her face even after a tiring day of study and work, she refused to feel exhausted. With eyes as sharp as a feline & her lips as gentle as tulip; she continued to wait for a text message every few minutes. In every little while her mobile phone rang in her lap and she would pick it up gently & begin to reply. Occasional smiles on her face hinted that she was indeed having a lovely conversion.
In my own thoughts of chalk and charcoal, I was still making my mind if I were to paint this woman in my life. Will I depict her in oils on canvas or aquarelle on paper. How will I be able to justly portray the beauty of this captivating woman in my work; who perfectly matches her every accessory with her outfit. She was distinct, noticeable. Her skin tone was careful blend of naples yellow with hints of venetian red; just near the cheeks. Her every move had a subtle mystery. Her luminous brown eyes were sharp as a tack; set on her phone; her mind was plunged deep into the silent conversation she was having with someone on text. Gently, she fixed her long flowy georgette shirt which covered her body till her knees and below. With a gentle touch of her hand; she carefully touched & fixed the silk flower on her hairband that held her golden brown hair from falling over her broad sculpted forehead.
Another traffic signal came along the way & we were at a standstill again. She turned her head to the left & started to talk to someone who I never saw but this change in directionh gave me a good chance to observe, embrace & caress the curvature of her jaw line with my eyes. It instantly reminded me of Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa. Her face was smooth, finely rounded, clear and utterly beautiful!
This was my moment. This was my time to hold the horses of my vivid imagination & act on it by walking to this ethereal beauty and ask her one question in the most innocent way. I walked over & asked “My lady! Will you be my muse?”
S.N.Hussain (Originally written on 26th, October, 2011)
These meds are not for the physical pain but for the emotional one. The one that comes from the names they call me with, statements they tore me with, questions they cut me with & smiles they hurt me with. The pills are for the trauma that goes on every day, trauma that takes a new form every hour; sometimes an isolation, sometimes an ache. Mostly tears and occasionally blood.
S.N.Hussain (Originally written on 2nd, August, 2014, 4 am in the morning, first rain of the season)
He loved a woman, she died in a war
A war with herself, A war with her God
She called him an atheist, she called him a liar
Said he was a man of unholy desire
She went on a journey, to kill what was odd
She fought in a battle, A battle with her God
And hid her body in the feathers of the dark
Covered her face in the blemish of her God
He loved a woman, she lied in a war
A war with herself, A war with her God
2009 | S.N. Hussain