The Irresistible Beauty
Bismillah.
She was an irresistible beauty and he spent every potentially productive waking moment chasing her, chasing the idea of her perfect form, and she deserved it. He deserved to grasp her.
She is not a person, to the world she is just a writing idea. His writing idea; as real to him as you, the one reading this…
So he chased her, with everything he had he chased her to find an impression of her on his paper but every time she was within his reach either he would manage to lose his balance or she would manufacture a way to keep his hands off her.
Weeks passed yet he had the idea of that idea and no manifestation when once upon a boring time, as he chased her yet again without any control on himself she suddenly stopped running and turned around to face him with six alien words.
She: What do you want with me?
He: To grasp you, to showcase you as the real gem you are. I just want to — -
She: To what end? to show me off to your friends? upload me for likes? or… or just stash me into one of your folders to be locked away years till I somehow become relevant? or even worse, just slap me onto an editor’s desk to get your name in a magazine? Which reason do you want me for? And why won’t you stop trying to cage me into words? I am an idea in your head, you can feel me, why don’t you just leave it at that and carry on with your life?
He: Because you are too beautiful to not exist. I don’t want to write you for any of those reasons. Writing you is not a gain, not writing you is a loss. I am dying to write you because until I don’t I can’t breathe right, I can’t perform the mundane acts of my normal life until I get to know it in my bones that I have drafted at least the first version of you the way you deserve to be drafted so that I know there is enough for me to hold on to, just barely enough to relate to the moment I conceived you ages of pointless life later and that I didn’t let you slip through my fingers, that I was capable enough to deserve you. It is not about what I do when I am done with you, it is just that I can’t do anything until you are done with me. I — -
She: Stop. Just stop it okay. I never knew someone could possibly feel that for me.
He: I am sorry I just — -
She: Look, when you write me, just refer to me as an irresistible beauty.
Wasi A. Rizvi
20 Aug 16
