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The Desert Men
It wasn't a deserted day. There was a lot of activity in the kafila. Nomads too, have a particular life. And the desert, knows it well!
Veiled, unhurried, she walked past them. At times with a pitcher full of water. At times, with the pitcher, empty. At times, emptying her pitcher to quench a traveler's thirst, and watch his eyes, come alive, a rebirth of sorts. She knew, what water meant. The men revelled at it. She...she simply knew.
At times, she just walked past them...just to wander.
They all watched her, from the caves of their own mind. Each a different colour. Each a different shade. Each a certain darkness. They watched her unhurried gait. Her colourful wear clothing her dark, desert tanned, but shimmering skin. They could somehow always hear that lil' jingle that hung at her waist from her skirt, dangling as she walked past. Their eyes naturally caught in its movement, and so too, their breath. As if her entire being was centered in that dangling bit of robe. And her footsteps jz fell, not to carry her, but that lil' jingle on her waist.
And as their eyes travelled, along the jingle and the pitcher that she carried at her waist, up her slender neck...and then the veil...they suddenly found themselves wishing, if only there was a certain veil made, to stop her from boring her eyes back at them...
Almost immediately, their eyes faltered, but they could see that her steps never did. They fell into perfect footsteps, and suddenly they couldn't decide if it was the desert that was scorching or did her feet, the desert?
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The Desert Damsel
She walked past them, in no more than a few moments, and yet they felt her gaze for long after. She observed each one, but knew that none, was the home where her heart was. She simply walked past. With her pitcher. Stopping to help an occasional traveler, nodding mutely, as he lived a moment in death, and felt he could die for a bit of life, that the water in her pitcher revoked.
That evening though, an Arab entered her Kafila.
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The Moment
He was fair. He had traveled for long, she could tell by his robes, the way the gravel was almost engrained into the cotton that draped him. She knew he'd be thirsty. But he showed no signs of it. She watched him descend.. seeking mutely, time and rest, at her kafila. And as he looked at her, in a proper moment of time, she knew.. who he was. And that, he wouldn't...
The Desert had always told her, that she must love the sand, for men only rose from its gravel. The gravel lured them, lead them, chose them, directed them...and finally, survived and willed them. She recognised him by that gravel.
"The Moment' arrived. She saw the gravel swirl. She heard the desert whisper, the tale of love, that would be hers...and knew in that instant, that he wouldn't...
For in that 'moment' that the desert rose, to swirl the gravel on him and her, he had stared past her. She almost laughed. What was he thinking? He didn't seem to know 'the moment'. The stars usually didn't shine this bright. The winds, never this gentle. Their roar never so meaningful. But she watched him. And she knew the tale was hers. And his' to never know!
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The Kafila
The kafila always welcomed travelers. It was a way of life. Never completely trusting the stranger, but serving him nevertheless, to learn to trust. Learn to live with it. Learn to lose it. And move on.
As days passed, the men in her kafila watched her. Carrying her pitcher, as ever. But they knew better, that she was carrying the winds of change in her heart. There was an air of certainty that she carried now. Of turmoil and acceptance. A desert tale, finally hers. A time ripe, to begin her story.
How did they know? They knew, for she didn't hide it. She simply walked past them, as she did every day, with a pitcher at her waist. She hid nothing, nor the tale, and the men that sensed it, she left them like ever, with a wish, there was indeed a veil.
She alone knew though, what could robe her. And where she could steal it from.
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The Arab
He had arrived on a fateful night. He knew, his fate depended on it. For it was the longest journey the young man had ever taken, and yet, he wasn't finished. His Oasis lay farther still. He had left a great deal of treasure behind, and he carried a lot of reminiscences of the past. Never letting him rest, but never quenching his thirst either.
He stared past the kafila, and tried to envision his life farther.
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The Desert
The Desert loved its children. The Desert understood the nomadic life. The Desert followed its traditions. The Desert knew not reasons. The Desert knew only love. And the Desert alone recognized, what the desert woman had.
For, as it settled its gravel, at 'the moment', amongst 'the desert men', at 'the kafila', under 'the stars' burning bright, on the dark skin of one 'desert damsel', causing it to shimmer even more at night, and cast its glances at 'the fair Arab', willing the youth reach its summit of existence, and dissolve the truth that lay in the sand, into their being...
Simple it should have been..and yet..
Clear it must have been...and yet...
He should have seen...and yet...
The Desert roared...
And yet..he wouldn't...
So, the Desert cast one furtive glance at the woman, who stood watching...just before it settled.. she hadn't moved..
Through those few eternal moments, it kept watching her. All it needed was just a nod, all it needed was a slight expression, one sigh, one look, one call, it was her moment, nothing could have stopped it from granting her wish...but for her silence..
And her silence, settled it...
She hadn't moved, when she could have moved the world. She hadn't moved when she could have..
She didn't move the time, instead she let it settle..
She didn't move the wind.. to change the direction..
She didn't move the water, which could have revoked..
She didn't move the stars, burning down on her..
She didn't let her heart beat, didn't care if it stopped..
Her decision was made, as she stood watching, her Arab..
She didn't will the Desert.. to taketh over..
She had stood there...moved by love. And The Desert understood for it was...her silence. The Desert winced..but willed her along..
The wind died.. the Arab slept peacefully that night.
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For she knew the moment she set her eyes on him. She knew the moment, he stared back at her, past her. She knew he wouldn't...stay.
And that her tale, would be his'. Instead of his', her's.
She had waited for him to come. And now she awaits his leave...
Ah! Only the still Desert, whispered of her love!
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