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Thursday 30 January 2014

The Last Note A Distant Hum Of Tinkling Bells...

http://www.flickr.com/photos/benoitcourti/5057156004/



She blows delicately through perfectedly pouted lips; a gentle blow that causes the shiny liquid layer to swell into a ball and blow off with the light breeze, only to pop seconds later. The air is thick and dry, the atmosphere near barren and devoid of much color. In the midst of it float the few bubbles that waft their way here and there before they snap into tiny unseen droplets of soap. she watches them hover in the air; illuminating tiny rainbows within the delicate little see through spheres, and sighs.

She stands with her back pressed against the back of a red car, a cup of soap mix in her hand, the other clutching a ball point pen lacking its ink fill. Next to her, sitting on the boot of the car is a little kid, like her, clutching half a bottle of slick soapy water and bubble making stick.

They keep there postures intact, not moving besides their heaving shoulders and their cheeks inflating and deflating like balloons as they blow. The midday sun grows fainter over their heads, dropping lower with time while they blow their respective bubbles, watching them flutter in the light breeze. Delightfully, they watch them dance in the wind, enjoying their lives before they are popped away.

At times the little kid shrieks with delight as he streches out to burst a big bubble even before it escapes the edge of her pen, his laugh echoing in the still air, the last note a distant hum of tinkling bells. Sometimes the bubbles shatter as they were blown in. It would burst in their face, smarting their eyes slightly; like a joke with a bad pun.

Just as the sun is on the verge of dipping down and kissing the horizon she turns, tilting the remaining liquid in her glass into the kid's bottle. As she leaves he looks startled, sad and slightly happy at the prospect of more soapy water. Sitting in her car she looks at the anonymous kid sitting in his car porch on his car in the empty neighbourhood who lended her his bubble mix. He continues to blow gently, making bubbles that light up the empty surroundings in the still July air.

She smiles at his innocent form and drives away with slippery soapy hands for a another date with the future.

-Momina.

10 comments:

  1. I think sometimes we could all do with a nice dose of innocence. It's never really lost, and we can always have a little fun, no matter what.

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  2. Beautiful! Can you please increase the size of the font? As much as I love the new look, its a little difficult to read :)

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  3. It's lovely, as always deep and a food for thought.

    However, I agree with Soumya ... the fonts and the background merge together ... I would suggest deepening the font, or making the background light :-)

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  4. A well writen piece about bubble blowing. Well done. Keep writing.

    Thank you. Love love, Andrew. Bye.

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  5. This post is dripping in innocence no doubt. errr , i apologize if im being too blunt, since, its my first time her. I did have trouble reading :( . However, i loved the way you wrote this post, that inspite of the trouble, i did read teh entire post. Lovely read , a lil heavy for the eyes though.

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  6. that’s like reading a leaf from a novel…

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  7. You do it the best way round.
    like playing with words!

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  8. Beautifully narrated. The words flowed out like bubbles :) Well written

    Just a little feedback about the layout. The background picture is a a little annoying because of the repeated images. Also, its a little difficult to read the text with such a background.

    Cheers
    CRD

    Updated my blog. Do drop by.

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  9. You magician with words, you! Always a delight to allow myself the pleasure of imagining the vividness of your words.

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  10. Very beautiful imagery! And amazing use of metaphors ;)

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