Catching

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Catching the Sun Paintings by Amal Ghosh
Text Suniti Namjoshi
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And though we cannot make our sunStand
still, yet we will make him run.

John Donne
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When the blue horse of happiness appeared on
her threshold, she knew at once that the moment
was metamorphic. Through his skull she could see
the pale blue sea. Behind her he perceived
domestic paraphernalia and the home fires burning.
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Here I am, said the creature, straight from
a fantasy. But nothing is fixed, our respective
roles may be reversed. You could be an apsara, or
a zephyr perhaps. Your colours would be blue and
translucent turquoise, and your hair would
stream at greater length and with greater beauty
even than mine. I would be a brown horse with all
four feet planted in a field.
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The woman replied, I could be a wood nymph,
or a goddess in green, and when I felt like it, I
could give you good things to eat.
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Yes, said the horse, and added hesitantly,
I could be your guardian, your mother perhaps.
How? demanded the woman. How could you
protect me? By the curve of my body and the
look in my eyes.
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The woman considered. I have the oranges and
yellows of the sun and of the earth. I have my
own energies. Lets share what we have.
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And thereafter golden mares could sometimes be
seen thundering towards the sun, while languid
mermen wafted through the air and dissolved in
the seas.
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