I have a thing for my "Bollywood lovers"... a story written some time back and he reminded me of it last night.
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Who could be more romantic and telling, deeply painfully loving, heartbreaking and dramatic in clenching claws of unrequited love than in the music and scenes painted in Bollywood.
How can it not be an inspiration to the mind?
This one is for the romantics.....slightly sad but, hopefully stirring.....trying to write it in true Bollywood fashion
We all know about a love once deep and then lost.
Enjoy. ( No sex scenes...)
" She sat. A haze of richly soft woven cloth. The colour more ruby than the blood of a royal. Gold threads just managing to hold the lightness of the weave together. The best India could offer. Skin translucent, as light and soft in texture as the cloth that covered the nakedness.
Hair, an abundance of burgundy spilling down a majestic neck...elegant...proud.
Her hand extended to the side of her. Treated with utmost care and gentleness with every precise feather stroke, droplet...the henna artist fixated compelled to welcomed exhaustion creating a work of art on a unique canvass...her hand.
Her eyes were shut...not wanting to see for his presence burnt stronger than the need of sight.
He knelt before her in awe of a face serene. The lids hiding eyes of deep passion, the nose strong and defiant, the lips contours of love to be shared.
He reached out and cupped her neck...gently...feeling the flow of her life in the quickened pulsating of arteries in her neck...careful ....not to disturb the artist.
Her head a slight tilt backward exposing her jawline to soft kisses and gentle bites from her earlobe to the centre of her jawline and then a tracing with his lips to softly touch hers and feel them part in a near inaudible gasp.
He left her fighting for breath, her quickened heartbeat disturbing the draping of the cloth from her bosom, slowly sliding away, exposing breasts, nipples erect from a lovers tease.
She dared not open her eyes. The image so seering, addictively inviting in the anticipation of what was to follow.
The henna artist diligent, lost in the world of a feminine hand coming to life in a piece of coloured creation.
And as he stepped behind her and swept the burgundy mass from her neck, her hand quivered, the artist gasped....a drop of henna fell away.....i single droplet apart from the others.... a single tear.
His kisses from the nape of her neck down the spine of her back....his breath a path up .....breathing life into the image of him......a warmth missed.....a tear rolled down her face....
"I will love u forever." she thought she heard him whisper.
"Ma'am. It is beautiful. It is complete." said the artist , backing away, silently out of the room.
She opened her eyes....the evening wind stirring the curtains, the night sky bright with stars.
Her hand a fresh artistic expression. Her heart a broken shatter for a lover lost....lost in the eternity of a life passed."
RB.
....and if across the Indian Ocean u should be reading...keep that 'budget' on hold.
Have to read this again and again, so many hidden secrets in the story line This is the first time reading your threads and most definitely not the last...
Know someone that expresses in words much like you do
To captivate a mind is a skill To captivate a heart amazes me still...
or
should i say...
Ms Beautiful One.
The tale is a start of much sad revelations of all that could have been. Moments wasted and spent ...and in the passing of another, never to be relived nor fixed.
She will find her happiness through her grief and regret and hopefully...be wiser to the ways of 'love'.
Thank u for enjoying and thank u for reading.
x
When i wrote that piece, i was feeling romantically melancholy...simply put...my turning my back on much that could have been a love affair most rewarding in THAT space and time had me reminiscing of a 'lover' gone.
Perfectly said...
"...also in our memories is immortality"...i love that.
Thank u for enjoying.
x
On 2022-02-16 14:11:23 NorwegianWooD said:
Absolutely cause only in our memories do those that have passed on or never to be seen again live forever
So true ...memories are all we have
On 2022-02-15 22:16:38 Russian Bridgitte said:
What a most welcome surprise...a call from India, a client most dear! A client returned home...and the offer extended, i most definitely will consider.
I have a thing for my "Bollywood lovers"... a story written some time back and he reminded me of it last night.
""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""
Who could be more romantic and telling, deeply painfully loving, heartbreaking and dramatic in clenching claws of unrequited love than in the music and scenes painted in Bollywood.
How can it not be an inspiration to the mind?
This one is for the romantics.....slightly sad but, hopefully stirring.....trying to write it in true Bollywood fashion
We all know about a love once deep and then lost.
Enjoy. ( No sex scenes...)
" She sat. A haze of richly soft woven cloth. The colour more ruby than the blood of a royal. Gold threads just managing to hold the lightness of the weave together. The best India could offer. Skin translucent, as light and soft in texture as the cloth that covered the nakedness.
Hair, an abundance of burgundy spilling down a majestic neck...elegant...proud.
Her hand extended to the side of her. Treated with utmost care and gentleness with every precise feather stroke, droplet...the henna artist fixated compelled to welcomed exhaustion creating a work of art on a unique canvass...her hand.
Her eyes were shut...not wanting to see for his presence burnt stronger than the need of sight.
He knelt before her in awe of a face serene. The lids hiding eyes of deep passion, the nose strong and defiant, the lips contours of love to be shared.
He reached out and cupped her neck...gently...feeling the flow of her life in the quickened pulsating of arteries in her neck...careful ....not to disturb the artist.
Her head a slight tilt backward exposing her jawline to soft kisses and gentle bites from her earlobe to the centre of her jawline and then a tracing with his lips to softly touch hers and feel them part in a near inaudible gasp.
He left her fighting for breath, her quickened heartbeat disturbing the draping of the cloth from her bosom, slowly sliding away, exposing breasts, nipples erect from a lovers tease.
She dared not open her eyes. The image so seering, addictively inviting in the anticipation of what was to follow.
The henna artist diligent, lost in the world of a feminine hand coming to life in a piece of coloured creation.
And as he stepped behind her and swept the burgundy mass from her neck, her hand quivered, the artist gasped....a drop of henna fell away.....i single droplet apart from the others.... a single tear.
His kisses from the nape of her neck down the spine of her back....his breath a path up .....breathing life into the image of him......a warmth missed.....a tear rolled down her face....
"I will love u forever." she thought she heard him whisper.
"Ma'am. It is beautiful. It is complete." said the artist , backing away, silently out of the room.
She opened her eyes....the evening wind stirring the curtains, the night sky bright with stars.
Her hand a fresh artistic expression. Her heart a broken shatter for a lover lost....lost in the eternity of a life passed."
RB.
....and if across the Indian Ocean u should be reading...keep that 'budget' on hold.
evenin Russian Bridgitte
Read the story again and more clarity comes with that ...
got goosebumps at the end where it says :the evening wind stirring the curtains ...
was the lady involved in a love triangle and did her lover die at the hand of another jealous partner
how can we be wiser in the ways of love
still a few questions
love the mysterious setting of story
and think by the third or forth time reading your piece , will be hooked
you truly are an artist of the heart
U do realise u have given the piece a storyline most Bollywood perfect? :))
My pieces do call for a personalised ending by each reader. They are written with that intent....YOUR story within THE story written.
Unless u read my " Beginning. Middle and End, longer tales." They too, i strive to add a little twist of something different if possible.
Much is drawn from experience of 'something' in life that has captured me... spaces, places and people...life is a storybook... all the time.
x
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