For despite what some people say love is not only a sweet feeling bound to come and go away. I wasn’t born in a rich or lavish family but I knew that there’s a difference between literate and educated I’m good in simple math’s I fear to say but I love algebra not knowing what they meant but if you’ll give a look they form patterns each of them having a story to tell just waiting for dots to be connected and except maths there’s another subject I’m really fond of , my friend last night (One who’s always kind) told it’s called Psychology and I, we and everyone is a living example of it being both the sufferer and the learner under a study being performed from ages beneath the crystal ball being the dearest subject examined and scrutinized by the god. Just like the dome and the Jhumar under whose illumination my hands will take shape my legs will swivel and my eyes will juggle jumping and diving plying with my spectator’s, just like a newlywed wife shy as river cheerful like fish and shaped like pebbles. My Di who seldom talks with me laughs with me and sometimes scolds too , the world calls her evil and so do I but she has a big heart , she’s the reason I’m still alive not dying of hunger on streets not a drunk father to abuse nor the mother who couldn’t sustain the pain of my labor , they say I’m beautiful and so was she and least I’m lucky enough to hear her last words residing in my heart resonating with breaths I take, just like the shooting stars before closing her eyes she said “Noora”.
My Di’s the person responsible of my transformation from a wandering beggar to an agile, feline and graceful yet shamed and disrespected mystic dancer “Noor Jaan” she calls me saying my name is enough to thrive living in several lives. Even if there might be a Jaan equivalent in some fragments what matters is where’s Noor to see it.
People of every religion comes to me although I don’t know much about religion or have any idea about god , but I believe in him whatever the form he chooses I keep waiting for his arrival. I have heard scholars of all religions find others way to be artificial and false they thing there’s only one right way to reach the god although I’m not learnt enough to argue, as they make it sound if all the religions are world apart but being Noor I have prayed in temples listened to sermons in mosques and confessed in churches just to feel soothing equally in all of them, and if you ask me when it comes to basics , ordinary people have more in common with each other than their scholars.
Women can’t help their curiosity, it’s in there nature but it’s men who easily find ways to perish and yet relinquish in every way in nights they compare me with moon so pure and piace they complement me when they’re drowned in the crimson wine and the fragrance that blends, they cherish they praise and my dance and I’m proud for that they honor me like goddess, whatever the world calls maybe for a fraction but they call me an artist. But in the day they blame me they doubt my character guess publicly they won’t even spit at my grave but in night I know a rose will be placed as a present.
“No doubt man is least in himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask and he will tell you the truth”.
Life is a temporary loan and this world is sketchy imitation of reality. Nothing is permanent and so do I, sometimes I meet children under the mask to see the “Noora” bit of scared how my lovers would react as haters never hide the truth , people behave differently in mob it gives strength but snatches identity just the type of desire people seek the lust that never pays, people are scared of what they don’t understand they come and meet me just to seek help mostly they letch for someone to talk someone to listen , someone to blame seldom they also beat me so subtle it’s easy to lift your arms to harm but hard to give yet I submit myself providing the comfort and warmth they seek , they hear my heart skipping the beats with amazement not knowing what’ll happen next.
“People do violence as it feels good but everything that feels good, doesn’t need to be right”
And here am ‘I disgraced punished and chastened not able to lift my eyes to see how the sky is not bounded but free as the birds surfacing the ocean and the depth of cosmos I never feel.
They call my street dirty the passages are termed filth only children would mistake a toy for the real thing. And yet human beings either become infatuated with the toy or disrespectfully break it and throw it aside. Still I’ll always be ready to embrace the extremes with the hug of my bosoms , I’ll always be mild and moderate. It is easy to enjoy the good and dislike the bad anybody can do that. The real challenge is to have the good and bad together not because you need to take the rough with the good but because you need to go beyond such desperations and accept love in its eternity, with the beat I’ll dance and it’s echoes will spread the elixir that resides in me. At the time whenever the nocturnal animals are relevant to disturb the reigning peace my cry will erupt and only joy could be felled. I’ll shatter the silence with the claps to realize there is an artist that thrills inside me. I’m the queen and the heads will bend for me I’ll keep walking though there’s no place to arrive at. The universe is turning constantly and reluctantly, and so are the earth and the moon, but it is nothing other than a secret embedded within us that makes it all move.
I’m shattered always to join, every thrust has strengthened me and I’ll keep dancing on the journey from love to heartbreak even if no-one understands what I’m doing I’ll dance in my heart and grief with joy and elation alone and together as slow and fast as the flow of water, I’ll dance in my blood living one day at a time.
Another sun will set and so will “Noor” seeing “Jan” being prepared with a warm bath scrubbing the skin with the soap of pain anointing her hair with oils of shame. Wearing the clothes so bright and colorful like her simply turbulent yet mystic life the contrast of cherry-colored sheath and a pink robe glided with hyacinths. Hiding the boldness she once possessed and revealing body turning slowly into carcass of empty and hollowness. Applying the fragrance rich in flowers but lacking sympathy love affection and glare. Even today the flowers will be laid the essence will be sprayed Jhumar will be lighted the music and the beat of table will be prepared, my ghungrus will talk while my lips will be silent, the wine will be poured and my lovers will wait for the artist in me, whatever they call me I’m happy to borrow there pain and anxieties.
The Noor was long vanished but Jaan never left, prepared like a sacrificial lamb. Comforter of Distressed and Dejected.
By- Kshitij Sinha