I decide to spend some time in her head. It's not easy. I need
Ali's voice right now to cloud my mind just as she needs another refill of rum
to cloud hers.
I look down and inside. She is contained; deep but impenetrable. A
dam. Thoughts begin to pelt on her like the rain and they've all jumped in. The
ghosts have. The ghosts have met. She wonders what they have to say to each
other about her. She can barely hear them inside her. Crawling out now,
drenched, they carry small parts of her to feast on. It's pouring again. She pours more alcohol until her bosom swells with pain and she can't take it anymore. Chhad duniya de janjaal, kuchh bhi ni labhna bandeya de naal. Alif tells me. I tell her. Or the dam will break. We are drowning in our own selves. There are no boats, no storms.
It’s not the same here. The expensive shoes I had picked out
of their translucent paper this morning are now muddied. I didn't agonize over
dirty shoes back home. One could walk bare feet for miles there. The soft earth was damp most of the time,
weeping with pleasure, grateful for your return. It seemed to graze wispy
kisses on your feet. The forest
fascinated me. The trees closed in, whispering in your ear, stories of no great
concern. Calling to mind passions… of no great concern. I had grown up like a
tree. My mind had been like the trunk,
even and robust. But as I grew up I branched out into a million things,
splayed-out wildly in every possible direction. I stopped near one and looked
up. It was perfect. What does the brain
matter anyway, compared with the heart?