Tuesday, August 15, 2006

The Martial Arts Teacher

The martial arts teacher turned back to give the figure coiled up in the bench in a dark corner of the walkway a second look and was soon sitted next to it. Huddled together in the tight space forgotten amidst the chaos of a busy pre-skin night crowd on a Sunday evening, his perfume quickly worked its way into the system, and in a deep, tacit way in which feelings fused and became stronger than thoughts, generated an overpowering sense of devotion and serenity that was so unlike the wild session moments ago.

A man of few words, the martial arts teacher preferred to share self-defense tips than offer a glimpse into the dark underworlds of his emotion-scape. Yet the simulated twists of arms and interlocking limbs afforded a much celebrated reprise of the physical proximity almost too overwhelming to relate.

“Grab hold of his hand, and twist his arm to break the punch, like this.”

What about the heart? Averting the onslaught of a tireless need for reassurance seems to require much more energy than breaking the most forceful punch. Your playful hand landed on my chest, I looked down and struggled to make out a blue-black spot in the dim light.

“Go home early, this is not the place for you.”

Give me a good enough reason to stay away, Mr Martial Arts Teacher, and I promise I’ll never return.


No comments: