“Life is a fortress of joy when you have someone to give a glimmer of hope at the end of the tunnel.”
The sky looked so cloudy as always in every night of rainy season, dense with darkness and laden with fear. I knew rain was going to fall, so I quickly finished reading the books I borrowed from the library in preparation for my last paper slated for the following week. I looked weary and my eyes already in need of sleep. Since morning I had been at Professor Jude library reading. My body besought nothing but to rest. I needed to sleep, but she had promised to call me. I didn't have any choice than to wait for her call.
I checked my wrist-watch in hasty anxiousness, and of course the time was already going. 'Will she call or I should go to my hostel?' It was already quarter after ten and I was still waiting, waiting for her to call. Exactly 10:30pm, my phone rang; it was her call that came in.
"Hello oo. Good evening." Her tiny but sweet voice ran through my ears. "How are you? You've delayed me here" I protested lightly. "I am sorry. I was busy cooking, you know. Where are you now? Are you back to your room?" "No. I am still at. . . "I know where you are. (she cut in and laughed). Expect me any moment from now." "Okay."
I kept my phone back to my pocket waiting, and there, unconsciously memories kept recurring. They were pleasurable. I was lost in the wilderness of thought.
* * *
The night she told me she agreed my proposal would always remain fresh like palm wine tapped at dawn. It was a night I keep remembering because its memory failed to elude me like haunting memory of childbirth. It would be forever indelible, as I looked straight into her winsome face with keen interest on her two well-shaped eyeballs, rolling in coyness like swinging scrotum of old wall clock. I was over-joyed and God Himself knew it, for this was the kind of lady I always dreamed of.
Aisha, as I was fond of calling her was a gorgeous girl. She was a girl of my desire. She had always been the owner of the key to the secret room of my heart all evenings through my years as an undergraduate at Gbaguda University, Lanbarawa. I would be thinking about her, writing many poems for her; the walls of my heart painted with her picture, especially in that pinky ijab and long black skirt with her smile calling. I would write even when I knew my penmanship was not perfect. I was studying Political Science, while she was a part three student of Pharmacy. I could say my being a poet was borne out of that platonic love for her, which I never professed or harboured for any lady in my life.
I had earlier called her to meet me at the adjacent way to the library. And if perhaps she would come, I would be fortunate. This was a lady that didn't pick my call until that night. She had told me never to call her again since I threw the thing to her, but I remained hard-headed- always crazy and curious to hear her sonorous voice like nightingale every day.
The time was running and it was getting late where I was waiting for her. But before she arrived I was bemused, drawing the abstract map of what could fall off her succulent lips, soft like seedless grape, if she came. 'Or she will not come? Was she posing me?' I was absolutely puzzled.
I summoned some courage. I wanted to die once like a real hero, and that was if I would die that night. I never proposed to any lady prior to that time, even when they were interested in me. I didn't love them, and I had promised myself never to woo a lady I never loved from the deep side of my heart. That was the philosophy I was brought up with and I preserved it till I got admission into a University until the day I saw her.
Our first encounter was the first day of its kind in my life. I was on my way to where I did have my usual night reading. That was where she had hers also. And ever since then I always respected her so much that I didn't look her face whenever we met at Alora Villa. She would take her way and I took mine as if we never met before. All what we owed each other was a brief exchange of greeting and a secret glance. Nothing beyond that but something about her kept on disturbing me- I had already fallen in love. I loved her, everything about her- the way she talked- simple and brief; the way she walked, swinging her hips in a way a sea-lady would, striding the earth gently like a new bride on the night of her flight.
Her smile protruded by the assembly of her teeth was mesmerizing. She was indeed perfect for me, always my best distraction. What I was just waiting for was her say 'yes I do', which I had been longing for since that Friday night I approached her and revealed to her my desire. I was indeed a slave of love. I had fallen in love with John Legend's All of Me as my last point of solace against the agony of my desire.
'How will it be when someone has all his wants an desires?' I was wondering, expecting her. Twenty minutes gone and I was still waiting for her to come with news I wanted to hear that night. I returned back to my solitary silence as a snail would when the night falls. 'I love this lady and if she says yes tonight I will be a man.' I was enamoured of all these billowing thoughts when I suddenly felt a soft touch on my left shoulder.
I looked back and it was Aisha in her natural self. She stood before me flashing the perfect assembly of her whitish teeth to me. She wore a long pink gown, and a black scarf. Her gap-toothed smile was mesmerizing, while her cheeks were magical. I was lost in word looking her with irrepressible look. I knew she came with good news. She was the dove I was the Noah expecting the great news. Her encapsulating smile was a testimony to this. She looked around to ensure that we were alone there- just both of us alone under the tutelage of the wintry night. She held my hands by the wrist, moved closer to me a little bit. The revelation came out, she opened her mouth and pleasing words fell of her succulent lips:
'' Jalal, I love you. God is my witness to this. I have accepted your proposal from the beneath of my bosom.'' Those words fell off her lips in coyness. She said this words and turned to the left side. She was ashamed of saying those words. I should be her first love. She looked down bashful, placed her head on my chest and I was speechless. It was a night of rose indeed. Cupid looked upon me and granted my wishes. 'I have found my lost rib', I mused. We walked down to one corner to find where we could have a brief moment of love exchange. She had got my knapsack bag from me because she observed I looked tired. That was where one journey ended for another one to begin.
* * * * *
I am now a Masters student and she in her final year. Tonight, she would meet me the same time on the same campus. We would re-learn love together; we would discuss matrimonial issues. I would give her many kisses.
"hello o. Ha ha. What are you thinking about? What are you engrossed at?" " oh. You are here. Welcome." I said with an emotional keen hug. Life is a fortress of joy when you are with someone of your heart.
. . .
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