I was browsing in a book shop one afternoon, it was dark indoors and the shop smelled stale and a thousand years old..I looked around me at those sleeping giants bounded in exotic molds..From somewhere next door the delicious tinkle of laughter and coffee, well brewed wafted in..my nostrils swelled..this was orgasmic..my eyelids drooped..
A page from Shakespeare fell open on my lap. The bard said, “Thou art a poet?”..”Ay Ay” chimed in a notorious Donne..”Like everyone else”..Somewhere a sweet perfume, smelt of sadness and Keats said, “Our sweetest songs are those that..” “Oh come off it” said Shelly ..”haven’t we been hearing that since ages now?”..”lets talk of clouds, of thunder, of revolution”…Somewhere someone sniggered was it the Pope? Oh well..
As I walked along the bookshelves, picking a book here, replacing a book there, lingering my hands on a cover here..I suddenly see a book with a skull, my curiosity piqued. What kind of book would it be I wondered..probably something on boring science, or the occult. Either way, neither subject interested me much.
I was about to put the book down..suddenly the skull winks at me..I cannot believe my eyes..” How about some fun says he”..I nod my head in absentminded grace, but of course. In a jiffy he’s out of the book and walking across to a dignified looking stable of high brow literature. Of course no one there was allowed to laugh, even the damsels were all born to distress, no one had taught them to smile..The skull seemed to be confused. Suddenly a red head steps out of a somber looking book, takes a hair brush and gives her hair a fashionable twist..She twists her finger at the skull, beckons him and arches an eyebrow, “ I have fifteen minutes, wanna have some fun” I heard a large thud, as I peeped and looked back at the shelves I had just crossed. The book of Shakespeare had fallen down in horrified horror..the bard looked distinctly pale, while a Donne did a chuckle, “ poor old fella” he nodded at the fallen one.
By this time the skull and the red head have managed to come at a kissable distance, as if on clue starts, ‘ Shake your bon bon, shake your bon bon and they both groove, hips shaking, gyrating against each other in the most passionate manner and just when the skull is about to kiss the red head, he breaks into a thousand pieces..A shriek, a cry, a screech breaks the dance apart, Tennyson had been awakened, ‘In Memoriam’, everyone was somber again..From the far edges of the library a booming voice echoed Blake's 'sick rose'..the skull had suddenly grown hands, very long hands..he reached for the 'Sick rose' and tore it into a thousand pieces and laughed loud.. the red head screamed and shook her hair and swooned..” The skull walked back to his book…he looked the part of a skull at last, pale and deathly
I woke up, what a trance!!..The Coffee place next door beamed..’ Shake your bon bon’
( Image courtesy Google)