does the work.
Crazy little Angel.
Feminine Footprints
"Al!" Came a voice from the bathroom as my fingers were dancing on the keyboard. Worried and horrified I ran towards the bathroom and found that it was locked.
"What happened Angel? Are you okay?" I asked.
"I am fine. Would you mind to wipe up the water, please? I think I sent a lot of it outside. I am coming out and you please wipe the water." You said.
I wiped the sweat off my brow and took a breath of relief. My little Angel if she would have fallen then? My poor little baby would have hurt herself for sure. She's so delicate like a structure made of ash. One wrong move and she will collapse.
She came out from her bath with a towel on her hair and her blue jeans and red top. She was looking so beautiful as she passed me a beautiful lovely smile. Her feet had anklet on which made a little jingling sound with her every step.
She left behind a trail of feminine footprints and I swear they were so beautiful. In that moment I realized that it's not that it is females that are pretty, but their feminism.
The footprint was smaller than mine and had beautifully circular toes. The ankle too on the footprint was circular and not oval like mine. The footprint had ridges and edges which just added to their feminism. There was a perfect print of the foot before and after every footprint. I leaned down and touched the print with a touch so delicate as if it was as fragile as my Angel.
A few moments later, when Angel returned, she saw that I wiped up the water but decided to let her footprints stay.
Chirp! Chirp!
“OWWWW!”, I say and jumped and your eyes lower themselves and look at the earth. I was feeding my Angel food when she bit my finger amidst the celery and bread.
“Hey Angel”, I joked “Since when you converted to a nonvegetarian? You’re a vegetarian right?”
“I am sorry.” I heard a feeble voice say. “I didn’t do it intentionally.”
“I know honey. I was just joking.”, I said.
“No. You are not going to feed me anymore. That’s final.” Came the reply and I continued to look at you. When angry both your brows stitch together and you look unprecedentedly cute when you are angry at yourself. Your cheeks puff up and your breath elevates in a mixture of anger and sorrow.
“Do that’s final?”
“Yes.”
“Like your ultimate and irrevocable decision, my lord?”
That induced a chuckle from the judge of the court but I could still hear a yes.
"Well then, unfortunately, my lord, I will have to feed you like a bird now. You know how birds eat right?"
No. I again received the same reply.
"Let me demonstrate. First, the momma bird takes a bite."
I take a bite.
"Then she chews it on the behalf of her kids."
I chew the morsel.
"Then she feeds the chewed food to the kids."
"How it feeds the kids?", my Angel asks and I knew it that my baby bird has been caught in my trap.
"It kisses the kids and puts the food in her mouth to swallow. Simple! Let me feed you now.", I said and with a fish pout I walk towards you. With a little shriek, my love ran away, forgetting all her sorrows.
Pale
"You won't be able to catch me, Al!" You said as you looked behind at me and ran on the gravel. I was running towards you and my eyes were transfixed on you. Our favorite sport at times, Chase, was incredibly fun. Especially as I get to kiss my Angel if I catch her.
There's a poem in Hindi and the direct translation would be, "The one who holds his head up, falls down too." I never understood it, until now that is. My transfixed gaze on your back didn't let my vision go to the obstruction on the path of my foot and I tripped and fell.
I scratched my knee and it drew blood. Fortunately for me, my Angel is a doctor.
"What you did?" You scolded me when we reached home. "You sometimes act like a child Al and see what happened. Ever heard of a twenty-two-year-old lad injured because he tripped over a stone?" The scolding continued as you wiped my wound with an antiseptic.
I, on the other hand, grinned like a silly little boy. It's so rare that I am the one on the receiving end of the scolding that I cherish every moment of it. Smiling like an idiot.
"Unfortunately for you, your girlfriend is a doctor." You say. "You'll have to get tetanus."
The color faded from my face and I get pale. Injection? I dislike the sound it makes.
"No alternative, Angel?" I ask and you say yes. Not falling in the first place.
You looked at me angrily and said, "I will inject you myself." Relief swept over me. As if nothing would ever go wrong.
I go serene and while I hold your gaze I pull my sleeve behind my shoulder. You break the bottle of the injected liquid and full in your syringe. I hold your gaze as you spray a fine mist of it.
You walk closer to me and wipe my shoulder with spirit to cleanse it and I look into your eyes as you do so. And you injected and I held your gaze. Then the second round of the spirit cleansing. If you say you'll operate me without anesthesia I will be glad to do so as long as I get to look into your eyes.
You throw in the syringe and wash your hands. As you towel dry them, I cough slightly to ask for the thing I love the most about being hurt and sick.
You walk over to me and give my shoulder a kiss. So sweet.
Allow Me, Mademoiselle
"Aaaaaaaaaah!"
Came a scream into my ears and I came rushing out the shower. What's wrong with my Angel? What happened to her? Is she okay? I hope she's okay. I almost pray she's okay. A thousand thoughts run through my head and by the time I reach the door, a thousand more had arrived.
I shove the door open and enter the room with a question, "What happened?"
I see that my Angel is sitting afore the mirror and staring at her image. The comb clutched angrily in one hand and her hair open. My Angel looks so pretty and beautiful; as if she was an angel who descended down to Earth to help me. But she was the one who, as of now, looked in need of help.
You jumped at my words and turned and looked at me, almost teary. You rush to me and embrace me and whisper into my ear that you're tired. "I am so so tired Al. Work was so laborious and I am really having it rough this week. But look at them! They're not listening to me! I am saying to them to work up easily but no! I will cut them, Al. Where's my scissor?"
You began to push away in search of the scissor but I pull you back gently into an embrace. My Angel is an angel if you are on her good side, but don't you dare mess around with her; she'll kill you first and then revive you to be killed by me.
When I see that your anger has abated a bit, I pull an ottoman closer to the edge of the bed and offer you to sit there. But you grunt a refusal and embrace me tighter. I kiss your forehead and sit on the edge of the bed and sit you on the ottoman.
"Allow me, Mademoiselle," I say and take the comb from your hands. I brush it through your hair gently and entangle your hair. Honestly, the anger on your nose makes you look so adorable when you crinkle it.
Chef
"So", you whispered in my ear. "What's in lunch today chef?"
I ain't no gourmet. I don't cook a wide range of dishes but my answer to this question will always be: "Whatever you ask for my Angel."
You look into my eyes as you part slightly from the hug and say, "What's the chef's recommendation for today?"
I am no chef. I have rare specials which aren't so rare and my own contraptions which can't be called recipes but assembled food. And still, I would give a professional answer. "Thai noodles, Madame."
Your eyes say you're hungry and your tummy growls a revolt. You embrace me again and whisper into my ear. "How can I help you? Chef."
I am no chef and other definitely any help would do just fine. Someone to chop and slice and dice would be greatly appreciated and but my answer to this will always be the same: "By eating the food I give you ma'am."
&n
bsp; You're getting impatient and hungrier with every second passing by. You lean your chin on my shoulder and whisper from there with a curious, "How much time more?"
I am no chef and I don't have a lot of experience. It can take me 15 minutes in just getting the slicing done but my answer to you will always be: "It's almost done, my Angel."
And it's not because I am an expert liar but because:
1.) No matter how bad I cook, your answer will always be "It's so delicious."
2.) I love you.
P.s. Learn to cook for you woman boys.
Go Fly Already!
Sometimes your heart gets welled up. Maybe when your favorite mug gets broken by careless on the part of the maid. When your cat kicks the bucket. When Romeo dies. When the time when you have to take leave from the person you love is arriving soon and it takes 20 hours to get into her city and the next date of the meeting seems months away. That definitely is a situation where your heart gets filled up, not going to lie; I have first handed experience.
And it takes up all of your courage to not shed tears. I looked at my Angel and saw her looking at me. We both knew what is going to happen and we both know what is happening as of now. The battle within me is a civil war and any move I make will be my own defeat.
My eyes are about to shed tears and I know that if I begin crying my tiny little Angel would too; which I won't let that happen at all. So I sit there with my throat choked and looking into your eyes and smiling a half smile and just pushing my tears behind.
"Hey look!", you say and place your palm on my cheeks and grasp two of my eyelashes in your fingers. "You get to make a wish!", you say and I smile at the cute naivety of my