57...A THING OF BEAUTY IS JOY FOR EVER

“A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.”

John Keats speaks of beauty in very high terms. The subject perceives beauty in the object. Therefore, both the perception and conception about beauty are subjective. You cannot bally well perceive and conceive some object of beauty as John Keats had done. A man’s intellectual ken is not the same all the time, it grows; it grows like a plant and a child. It also depends upon the mood he is in, and the situation he is sucked in.

Last night I happened to be in a party, my best friend had thrown for his “beautiful” wife leaving for New York on a project. This party has been there every year since the last four**** years but this was my first of the sort of their party. I thought my friend would be very sorrowful for the separation he would be thrust in and he might collapse in the party throng, break the silence by singing sadly “aaj Jane ki zid na karo “. At the least, seizing the pahloo of his wife, I imagined, he would burst shouting, tears rolling on his sticky cheeks “abhi na jao chodkar dil mera bhara naheen.” However, nothing of that kind happened. There was loud laughter and the party specific hallo ballo of post boozing.

The pretty ones and the “beauties” around me were all in their inebriated conversations in semi-whispers. “I ‘m gonna have a date with him tomorrow at nine after the flight,” said one, in jeans, with a sly wink, grinning like a beautiful mare. “Lo yar thum to lucky ho, what about Christina...la patha” Now a slovenly attired pony, this time. “That lousy poor thing has debunked with Rahall, ya! “Yo!yo! You know ***Hanna getting married? And that too an arranged one.” “Wazzup more the bitchy has two bulls already going steady with, one for bucks and the other for ****”.

It was past eleven, I should be home, and I had not fed my loving Tito, my doggy. I din no why I had often set eyes on the quiet dame sitting pretty with a Mona Lisa smile, settled with a glass of vodka a bit away from me. There was something unique about her. I rose to leave, bidding farewell to my friend’s “beautiful” wife. This Mona Lisa sneaked with a brilliant smile to my table, “Single?” she asked. “And you?” I enquired. “Waiting for my hubby,” she said with an air of grudge and hatred. “How about some fun?” now with a steady sly smile.  “Fun?” I grinned, “But your hubby?”  She shook her head, “he does not do so much, and the sort of things you love, my Munna is handy and smart.” “Munna is around here?” I asked. She laughed. “He is my bulldog.” Wala howla wala quwwata illa billa. Astaghfirullah.

 Suddenly I rose up in an unfathomable shock and remembered some chapters I read in Havelock Ellis’ Psychology of Sex, Book 4.  Unexpectedly I was caught hold of some guy in long kurtha and surwal with musky smack and already drenched in sweat. He settled in front of me introducing himself as Mona Lisa’s hubby, and dragged himself towards me, “You look cute yar, hundred percent. How about some more hotty? Whisky or Champagne?” “Let us have some fun, I am a bit horny, are you active or passive?” he was investigating. Wala howla wala quwwata illa billa. My head already started spinning I changed the subject and asked him about the host. He laughed and stared at me with a grin. “The man is already sleeping with his secretary downstairs and the woman, on bed at home with her new acquaintance.” Shocked to death I did not know what time and how I had reached home and slept.

“A thing of beauty is a joy for ever….full of sweet dreams, and health and quiet breathing...”

Awesomely tired and  disgusted with the things that went on the previous night, I lazily got up and sneaked in the portico asking for some black coffee and started the headlines on Times Of India, chasing  Tito came Rehana, my eight year old child, “Dad where were you all along? We had lots of FUN right now upstairs.”