Beautiful

[sheherazade]

Men find her attractive.They walk by her and stare; walk past her and look back. Sometimes they stop altogether and stare.

 

She knows she's beautiful. All that attention must tell her she is. Men must tell her so. Women too. But what does each of us see? Would we pick out the same physical characteristics? I know what I think is physically beautiful about her. The features of her face have been set exquisitely. There's no point singling out her eyes or her chin. Each is beautiful in isolation but breathtaking as a whole. She has the posture of a dancer and glides around gracefully. She isn't girly by any means; a strength emanates from her. She has an eye for the comedic. I think I love her(and love her I do) mostly for her strength, her thoughtfulness and her acute observational capability. She sees what I miss.

 

We're in a cafe together one day and she's by the counter. I'm facing the window and see a group of men pass by. They stop and look into the cafe. I look behind me and she's not standing where she was. Something catches my attention and I look down to see it's her flapping her hands and putting her finger to her mouth, crouching behind the counter. She's hiding from the men. Her face looks strained. I turn back to find the men grinning and walking away. I signal for her to come out. She does so unfurling her body slowly. She makes a face. To signify her disgust she lets a shiver run through her from head to toe. I grin. It must be wearing to be so beautiful. It has to be a test for her. The humour helps her cope I assume.

 

She only has to swing those feline eyes my way after witnessing something and I will descend into laughter. You see I'm thinking what she is. They call it 'clicking'. You meet someone and it's like you've been friends always. I don't know why it's called clicking. It's a more subtle sound, like the hush of a gentle wave.

 

Anyway, we hushed and developed our own world of running jokes and slapstick. She'd sneak up on me and I'd pretend I hadn't seen her and go through the, 'Who is it? Who is it?' silliness. She'd then reveal herself rather dramatically and slap me hard on the behind. For all her grace she slaps like a sailor. Sometimes she makes me laugh so hard I cry. Think Charlie Chaplin and Audrey Hepburn rolled into one.

 

Days after Eid ul-Fitr and I'm sick and undeniably ugly. My neighbour fusses over me and feeds me soup, soup and ocassionally if I'm lucky, more soup. My Jewish neighbour comes to visit me. To check for my temperature she puts her lips to my forehead. The fever was starting to rise again. She asks if I'd like to eat takeaway food and chocolate. Chocolate. Does she need to ask? She leaves me and fever returns to hold me in her hot, unwelcome arms.

 

A while later(time had little meaning) I hear, 'Look what I brought!'. I look up(I'm lying on the living room floor) to see several pairs of feet walk in. I recognise all those feet! One pair belongs to the beautiful lady. The women sit around me on the floor in a U-shape. 'Where did u find them?', I whimper. She'd brought some of my other neighbours along. All were laiden with fruit and drink and tut-tuts. Look at you. What's happening to you? I can't really talk much. Their words float around me..cold, hot, paracetamol, no bathing, soup, rice, rest, soup, doctor, soup, rice. Someone picks up one of feet and starts massaging; another reaches for the other foot. Pretty soon, I have many pairs of hands on my feet, calves, hands, arms. Thoughts of death had preoccupied me for days and now the touches reassure me. But I know nothing will compare to the sound of my mother walking in and saying, 'Sheh, ma nooshahey?'. A new determination to get well fills me. I have to see hooyo again.

 

My back hurts so much from all the lying down it feels as though my spine is about to shatter. I turn and lie on my right. From behind me on cue the beautiful one, gets closer to me and places her hands on my lower back. She works her hands firmly and gently over my tense muscles. The sensation is exquisite and exactly what I need. Only she could have sensed my back was sore. While the others talked and talked around me she saw with her eyes what the others didn't. Unable to hear what they spoke(she's deaf) or join in(she's dumb) she used her eyes and then her hands to talk with me. I reached behind me for her arm, touched her and left my hand there.

 

..........

 

I wanted to get that Ramadan feeling again and received a little inspiration from a certain someone to write. If u made a promise to be a little more beautiful in your deen last Ramadan, don't forget to keep that promise. It can only lead us to a more beautiful place, inshallah.

[Warrior of Light]

That was beautiful. You have a talent,Mashallah.

[sheherazade]

Shukran, sis.