Pretty eyes...
That's all I can say. Pretty eyes...
That's all I can see.
Ever imagined being heavenly to look at, like a medusa in reverse, and having to hide your face?
I could see her eyes, they kept coming closer and closer, I could see the tinge of Kaajal growing darker and darker, clearer and clearer.
Sweat was glowing from below her light brown eyes, and was even shining through the transparent black veil she had covered her face with. I could see it, all of it, in that flash of a second as she passed by... without giving me a second look. Or she might have, I was just too reluctant to notice.
In those few moments, from the time I saw a bruka-clad female walking towards me on the Corniche (It's a long strecth of curving road along the sea like Marine Drive - just extremely extremely clean unlike Marine Drive), till the time she walked past and away, I was stunned.
I couldn't see her face, not clearly, not at all. I won't even be able to recognise her if i saw her again. But I could make out, I could imagine her face... the eyes when I looked at them for a second... at one time in that one second i thought she was looking straight ahead but her focus was on me. Those eyes...
She was walking against the wind, her long black burqa, clearly outlined her boot cut jeans. A body of a queen. She was wearing Nike's. The latest. I had never seen shoes like that before.
Maybe she didn't look at me. Maybe she didn't even care.
Her face was hidden.
She can't show it off. And I have a reason to believe if she was wearing it while working out, she has to wear it more often than she would like to.
How can someone be compelled to hide their face? A face as beautiful as that (I am dead sure)?
What would it be like for her, I thought.
I didn't dare look back. Not that I was scared, or it's wrong. I just didn't want to disrespect such a creation.
I didn't want to look when she didn't. I didn't want to look when her back was towards me.
Maybe she was married. But the eyes looked very young. Maybe 20, 21. But women that age are married off in Qatar to the rich Qatar boys, who drive BMW convertables, and Porche Carerra 911s.
But she was alone, all by herself, walking. Those eyes looked serious... sad.
The eyebrows were neatly done. She wants to look pretty. She tries to. For what? For who?
They don't even allow her to take the veil off outside.
She isn't like Delhi or Mumbai girls, who can show her beauty off. She's hidden, forever.
She's forbidden.
She's gone.
She's got pretty eyes. That's all I can say.
That's all I saw.
That's all I can see.
Ever imagined being heavenly to look at, like a medusa in reverse, and having to hide your face?
I could see her eyes, they kept coming closer and closer, I could see the tinge of Kaajal growing darker and darker, clearer and clearer.
Sweat was glowing from below her light brown eyes, and was even shining through the transparent black veil she had covered her face with. I could see it, all of it, in that flash of a second as she passed by... without giving me a second look. Or she might have, I was just too reluctant to notice.
In those few moments, from the time I saw a bruka-clad female walking towards me on the Corniche (It's a long strecth of curving road along the sea like Marine Drive - just extremely extremely clean unlike Marine Drive), till the time she walked past and away, I was stunned.
I couldn't see her face, not clearly, not at all. I won't even be able to recognise her if i saw her again. But I could make out, I could imagine her face... the eyes when I looked at them for a second... at one time in that one second i thought she was looking straight ahead but her focus was on me. Those eyes...
She was walking against the wind, her long black burqa, clearly outlined her boot cut jeans. A body of a queen. She was wearing Nike's. The latest. I had never seen shoes like that before.
Maybe she didn't look at me. Maybe she didn't even care.
Her face was hidden.
She can't show it off. And I have a reason to believe if she was wearing it while working out, she has to wear it more often than she would like to.
How can someone be compelled to hide their face? A face as beautiful as that (I am dead sure)?
What would it be like for her, I thought.
I didn't dare look back. Not that I was scared, or it's wrong. I just didn't want to disrespect such a creation.
I didn't want to look when she didn't. I didn't want to look when her back was towards me.
Maybe she was married. But the eyes looked very young. Maybe 20, 21. But women that age are married off in Qatar to the rich Qatar boys, who drive BMW convertables, and Porche Carerra 911s.
But she was alone, all by herself, walking. Those eyes looked serious... sad.
The eyebrows were neatly done. She wants to look pretty. She tries to. For what? For who?
They don't even allow her to take the veil off outside.
She isn't like Delhi or Mumbai girls, who can show her beauty off. She's hidden, forever.
She's forbidden.
She's gone.
She's got pretty eyes. That's all I can say.
That's all I saw.
posted by Once the Conman at 6:29 PM
15 Comments:
You usually this romantic or is it the fact that you cant have always looks so much more enticing?!!!
:)
I am a true Romanticist...
It's somewhere there, inside me. But something has to inspire me for it to come out.
Whenever it does come out, it's more like an outburst. Anything supressed for too long is natural to turn aggressive during release...
Hmm..Qatar does seem to have all the inspiration you need in that case! Found whatever it is that you are looking for yet in life?
:)
I could probably answer that question when God's just about to carry me up in his arms.
Do you have a name?
Wow, it's amazing how much power a woman's eyes have!
My eyes have seen you
Stand in your door
When we meet inside
Show me some more
My eyes have seen you
Turn and stare
Fix your hair
Move upstairs
My eyes have seen you
Free from disguise
Gazing on a city under
Television skies
My eyes have seen you
Eyes have seen you
Let them photograph your soul
Memorize your alleys
On an endless roll
"She isn't like Delhi or Mumbai girls, who can show her beauty off"
And what could be worse? To show off beauty not knowing whom its intended for! A 'sigh' to that one too please.
And always a pleasure to catch a man feeling romatic.
Names..I have plenty. Some which I got as my inheritence from my folks and some which our small world as labelled me as. Which one do you want ?
:P
Zira: Visit more often.
Anonymous: I can guess the labelled one (don't ask me to because I won't. You'll be wasting your time). Give me the one you inherited.
Wouldn't have asked ya Conman, the one which I inherited is called Adaa.
Adaa (Never heard the name before. Don't know how to pronounce it so think it's funny): Do you have a blogspot?
if yes, why don't you comment with your ID. That way I could visit your space too.
You seem to read a lot in the eyes of a woman...mystical, beautiful, dark, hiding the unsaid....have you ever fallen for eyes?
Unsaid: I'd prefer you comment with either your name or your blog ID.
And it's strange you're asking me the question after you read an entire blog I wrote on just those "Pretty Eyes..."
I fell for them.
Yes, I have fallen for eyes.
As for a name, I am sure it doesnt matter to you...for your name too does not appear on your blog! As for a blog, I have none.
And yes, it was important to read the blog before i chose to comment coz how could I say even a word without knowing the mind behind all those beautiful words...it is through one's words that one understands the other...
And i wouldnt utter the unsaid unless i really wanted to...
Post a Comment
<< Home