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| Image: sas |
Oh Teresa, it was not too late...
In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.
In a hole in the universe there lived a Teresa.
A lonely, neverending tunnel of Espressos, littered with scraps of verse, and lit up at intervals with half-smoked Marlboros.
Did you not know the way out?
Were you too scared to make your way to the surface?
Or were you simply lazy?
Were you angry?
Or just tired?
Oh Teresa...
I remember the time you flitted in and out of our lives. An ethereal butterfly! Shimmering flowing skirts and magical bronze shadows that tantalized every man in sight.
We were enchanted.
Laughter. Deep throated and free spirited. You belonged to Almost Famous, without the cynisism. Penny Lane. Pure joy.
Our very own gypsy.
Why Teresa?
I do not understand. I have tried. But I cannot.
How do you solve a problem like Maria?
How do you solve a problem like Teresa?
Wizardry!
I loved you.
We loved you.
Teresa in the mirror, laughing at the appalling decor of the Mirage restrooms. Teresa at the bar, charming the bartender into giving us Baileys shooters on the house. Teresa dancing to old-school hip hop with the New Yorkers on the dance floor. Teresa collapsing with laughter in the parking-lot while attempting to sing 'Cecilia'.
You're breaking my heart, you're shaking my confidence daily.
It is the incomprehension that has scarred us.
I am defeated.
Gandalf would appear when least expected. Fireworks! Great lilies and snapdragons and laburnums of fire.
Teresa would appear when least expected. Fireworks! Great lilies and snapdragons and laburnums of fire.
A regular prosaic Saturday night transformed intp a collage of mystery, truth and camaraderie.
"To be ordinary is a fate worse than death."
Was that your own line or did you borrow it from someone else?
There was so much we did not know about you but the incomprehension did not bother me back then. You were...like an optical illusion. Meant to be enjoyed, not understood.
Teresa on the terrace, reciting Robert Browning's 'My Last Duchess'. I think two people out of twenty were familiar with the poem. It didn't matter. Only Teresa mattered.
Teresa in the garden, barefoot in the dew.
Pied Piper?
Well, we all followed you that night.
Twenty pairs of shoes on the porch.
Where on earth did you go?
Insubstantial whispers through the Delhi grapevine. We heard...
Reams of poetry that we did not read.
Countless nights when you did not meet us.
Endless tears that you refused to let us see.
Packets of cigarettes that we did not share.
Our Teresa... no more?
We looked.
I am a rock, I am an island
And a rock feels no pain, and an island never cries.
Butterfly turned to stone. Lost in the gravel. Impossible to locate.
Sometimes I think you might come back. And if you do, we have the mountains and the sunlight to escape to. I am guessing you would like the sunshine. I don't know. We never met you in the daytime, remember?
Oh Teresa, it was not too late...
Why did you not let us save you?
You saved us.
You changed our lives.
Delhi sparkles with stardust because of you Tinker Bell... Our very own Neverland.
Eighteen more people on this planet know and love Robert Browning.
'Cecilia' means laughter at 2:00 AM in a parking-lot.
Bronze is magic.
And the magic has touched us.
"Good-bye!" said Gandalf, "And good-bye to all of you, good-bye! And I am not going to allow you to back out now. I am ashamed of you for thinking of it."
"Good-bye!" said Teresa, "And good-bye to all of you, good-bye! And I am not going to allow you to back out now. I am ashamed of you for thinking of it."
You have denied us all access to your reality. We do not know. We cannot follow.
Pied Piper's betrayal- reversed.
Oh Teresa it was not too late...
Now I understand what you tried to say to me. How you suffered for your sanity.
No, I don't.
They would not listen, they're not listening still. Perhaps they never will.
You made sure we won't, Teresa.
Did you know what you were doing? Did you realize?
We had vertigo. And then we glimpsed your world. The fantastic heights, the proximity to the stars, the rush of joy, the sheer abandonment of fear- moments of intoxication.
It is hard to think clearly on the 51st floor of a building.
Less oxygen.
Too much freedom.
Solitude.
I have tried to imagine the Baileys bottle in your hands. And the song that you might have been singing. And the thoughts that you might have been thinking.
Perhaps you were right.
Vertigo is scary.
The complete absence of vertigo is even scarier.
They gazed and wondered; but they were no nearer understanding it, when the first cold stars came out.
Perhaps it was too late.
Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes.
Teresa is in my ears and in my eyes.
Let's drink to that.
Make it Baileys.
Cheers
Epilogue:
The world is divided into those who have read Tolkien and those who are going to read him.
The world is divided into those who have met Teresa and those who are going to meet her.
