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|by Anjum Wasim Dar|
'Not fierce Othello in so loud a strain'did shouts screams and squeals reach my auditory system AS I am jolted out of my engrossed state while trying to gather the mock epic characteristics of Alexander Pope's famous poem 'Rape of the Lock'. I had slumbered into the upper class aristocratic society of the eighteenth century England, at my writing table, waltzing into a world of lacy frilly gowns curly wigs and coat tails; violas and violins'.
'This music crept by me...no its gone' mingled with Shakespearean expressions
'Mother Mother' loud cries resound over the staircase raising a Tempest, rushing into the calm seas of the lounge where I am trying to memorize the heroic couplets'Ah! Exam. in English Literature, but alas! These precious moments must fade'
'Its moving its moving' My six year old daughter frail and skinny in physique but so sharp in sound, is now standing straight on the sofa chair with her eyes fixed at the corner of the ceiling. I just manage to see my teenage daughter gather her legs, hastily I feel, on the other side of the sofa. Gracefully majestically, the lithe movement is discovered to be of none other than the Queen of Reptiles, a common but unwelcome visitor, the innocent looking domestic lizard.
'Slight is the subject but not so the praise' O Cleo Muse, descend and raise in me, the courage never to yield'. I sing a praise for the Muse of History, Maybe I am about to create History.. Behold! with daring but careful steps I descend the staircase feeling no less than Cleopatra...But Oh there is a job to be done 'Save the two damsels in distress'...er...I mean the two human beings now perched on the sofa and settee respectively...I gather my thoughts as I step down. .I know where to reach for the long and deadly instrument which in times of peace is used to demolish the labors of the industrious spider...er...I mean the broomstick, now placed behind the kitchen door.
The kitchen situated in one corner of the lounge is easy to approach and soon I have laid hold of the epic weapon. Thus armed like Achilles out to rout an enemy I raise the broom, just then my gallant knight in armor. Prince Charming appears in the doorway of his chamber, 'How now mother dear? What in the world is Alexander the Great attacking' SSSSHHHHH I caution him 'You will scare the enemy away' There should be complete silence. My son smiles he knows. The enemy has been recognized.
'Mom let me face the challenge Oh Boy! Er...I mean OH Lord how I have waited for this day! At last the time has come. Mom wish me luck! Pray! Sacrifice something to the Gods'...What a heavenly sight! What black eyes! Darting lashing tail...It is waiting to kill its own prey...how the hunter becomes the hunted.. the fragile lucid trembling moth sticking beside the illuminated fluorescent tube is unaware of the attacker. Stealthily now. Tension is greater than the Gulf War situation, but luckily no oil slicks...just dry open challenge...physical courage bespeaks moral courage.
Victory was ours as the Evil queen has been defeated and dethroned out of the sacred home sweet home though she makes her slithering exit through a crevice in the wall. Up rises Don, smiling from the heap, a conqueror in the field where the books like carcasses of the Memphian army in the Red sea lie thick bestrewn'
The breaths of the princesses thus restored, my Prince with uneasy steps emerges so victorious. beaming as mama puts a laurel bough of her loving arms around the slightly bent neck. Peace and harmony prevails as life returns to normal. I survey the battlefield. books scattered dust all around tumbled cups, each item will have to be carefully picked up the area to be cleared soon, the reality of the housework.
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