Me, My Physio and Bright Twilights

SHARE:

“The time when Backache was on its way to get a soothing and nostalgic cure in those twilights, in those magical hands while Heartache was peaking as inverse to the Backache.”

 

Many thanks to my slacked sitting postures
Set out to enjoy piercing pricks of shards
Soon got adapted to quick changes in gestures
And tremblings like those of castle of cards

The abominable melodrama went on for a year
Used to pop innumerable pills, meanwhile
End of the story was not so far not so near
My dam was soon to become a subdued pile

Was passing through a hellhole, before dawn
Mother of all infernos waited in the deep
Couldn’t get out of the bed, despite all brawn
Defeat and frustration was all I could reap

Performing some discrete drags, Android rose
Seeing me falter, brother lent his shoulder
He manoeuvred me to strike the optimal pose
I felt my lower half as a lifeless boulder

Reached restroom, ready to face the ordeal
Better to cut short the tale of turmoil
Achilles was hit in ‘pelvis’, forget the heel
Treaded through, an intense saga of toil

A bazooka was operating within my haunch
Haunting ablutions, probably the last nail
Had to visit the physio, so blew a conch
Who knew it to be a month long stirring sail

If needed, they subject the subject to shocks
What was in store, only knew the Almighty
Would be either Santa’s sack or Pandora’s box
Whatever, left all to him, morbid or flighty

Blueprint of a typical doctor was losing ink
Electrocuted were all reservations, ab initio
The moment, I saw her in lethal lilac and pink
Ooh, she was a newly-hatched pretty physio

Soon after the greetings, I was chest-down
Curtain was lowered, my heart pumped faster
Any harassment could become talk of the town
I ceded, loosened my belt before my master

She played ups and downs, lefts and rights
Shortly, her ticklish dart hit bull’s eye
She eased up after those throbbing rites
We were back to seats, I let out a sigh

What if, the game had gone a little more
Oh, how could I think like that for a doc
Why couldn’t I, for I am normal, for sure
Hey Cupid! what a fuss, it was all ad hoc

Later on, she triggered the burst of queries
Which I answered with my eyes fixed on hers
Hence, peachy cheeks grew red like cherries
Being chivalrous, shifted down my flirty gears

She detected the root of my throbbing feeling
Settled were we, to desert the desert of pains
A fortnight or so, would suffice for healing
Strategy was chalked to break my aching chains

Pinched ‘sciatic nerve’ was the only culprit
That was her firm opinion upon my woes
Was that a culprit or cupid’s obvious grit
She read my eyes, adjusted her scarf and rose

My first session started with a gel massage
Electrical impulses, then fomentation finally
My eyes clicked her and prepared a collage
She was done routinely, I was done merrily

Cozy session was over, time faded so quickly
While first parting, her glassy lids drooped
Graceful feminine gesture expressed so nicely
Took her leave then, catching more was doomed

Got home, came my turn to conclude something
My physio was somehow descended from ‘Aphrodite’
Under her poise, there was lying some zing
Reflection of her soul would be bright white

Ebony pearls drifted sedately into dewy oysters
Gyrating ringlets accentuated her French plait
Her volatile scent, was the purest of esters
Simplicity and elegance were of highest rate

Waited since morning to welcome the evening
At last, pendulum swung past six o’clock
My two lamps came alive, much as lightning
Got ready to be transported to my cute doc

She added curative exercises, that day onward
Of my back, she was testing the curvature
So played with my long legs and felt awkward
Thereupon commented musically about my stature

She didn’t open up, wasn’t introvert either
After a couple of sittings, I took reigns
And we began to chat, barring any wither
Coming was the affinity, going were the pains

Delved into heaps of perspectives with her
She was shy and outgoing at a time, at times
In a chic chute, was relishing my slither
From farwaway, I sensed the farewell chimes

Fortnight was coming to an end, inevitably
Was emerging silently, angst of a new kind
Nurtured a liking for her, quiet notably
Who was she for me, needed to be defined

My twilights were shining in her magical hands
Was she ideal to step with into marital lock
Couldn’t love her, enough was to be friends
For my folks would only certify from my flock

Shook my will to kill the Jill and Bill
Fantasy couple, soon to be a slain couple
Won my ‘resolve’, left a vacuum to fill
I agreed, the ‘patch’ was no more purple

Alongwith me, she assessed my steady progress
To my sheer delight, she bestowed a breather
Called for a full week to wrap the process
Ah, my bounty was spilling over, I’d to gather

Her craft did marvels for my lost agility
It was her divine touch, flawless and subtle
Kudos to her, I restored my flexibility
After a year, I was again in fine fettle

We were cruising in consort with timeline
Together, we amassed memories to cherish
One evening, we fruitfully met the deadline
Somewhere, a budding fruit had to perish

She might have perfectly uprooted my ache
But she couldn’t deny giving me another one
Aware was she, sodden ambience was not fake
Joy of getting cured was reasonably outdone

Evenings were draped in deafening silence
Those were the soothing pains, I thought
Only ‘will’ could help to strike the balance
Slowly but surely, I came out of the nought

It’s been a year since my concluding greetings
Still remember that healing bench of mahogany
Lying upon which, carried on those meetings
God bless her, she took out my agonizing agony

Graceful ‘Jill’, soul of this poetic vignette
Deserves a wonderful ‘Bill’ and blissful life
I’m again to discover my matching silhouette
Will I die bachelor or get a delightful wife?

 

Life seems to be the name of a moving river culminating into the eternal Ocean of bliss with a soulmate who is always there for you irrespective of what you are looking for. May be, its just the time waiting to be ripened enough for him/her to be in stride with. Why not enjoy the moving river instead of being a stagnant pond?

 

ABOUT AUTHOR

Abhay Sisodia

Contributor and Editor at Vibrant Echoes