Barbara Werchota

La Femme aux trois maris

The woman with three husbands

At first there was the Cora player. She remembered him from a life she could not explain. But there he sat cradling his Cora. Before she saw him, she felt his music even before she heard the magnificence of the haunting melody just the fleeting touch of his fingers was able to bring into explosion.
When she saw him without his Cora, at first she would not have recognized him, had she not known him. How could someone so insignificantly looking be a God in his own right. She had heard Cora players all her life, their music was always wonderful. But his music was mesmerising even before you saw and heard him playing. This music followed her everywhere, where he was and where he was not.

The Rider looked deep into her eyes, and could feel the spell of the flowing Cora sounds. He looked into her eyes. It was as though, he would never again sleep until he had shown her the beauty of mastering riding skills, where one cannot tell the difference between the horse and the rider. It would be impossible for her to know how their movements could be seen as one. She did believe that these two were from some heaven where she had never set foot, but his eyes showed her the way. The Rider made the music of the Cora player grow dim. She tried to re-enter the world of the Cora Player, but he had withdrawn from her in his pain of understanding her attraction to the Rider.

Gone was his wondrous music, the Cora Player, she now remembered faintly and the tears she shed would not bring her closer to him. He would stand on the street corner and play his Cora, but she could not hear the notes, she would only hear sounds which tugged at her heart.

There was the arranged marriage she had to face. The night before her wedding, would be the night that her parents brought her new husband. Her future parents-in-law were there too. There were no smiles. How can you smile at a stranger with whom your life is to be shared, but without your choice. Smiles, if any would come much much later. Her future husband was introduced to her. He turned away, and she could not recall what his face looked like. The bold beauty of the Rider was still with her, although his face she could no longer see either.

The night of her wedding, she was perfumed with the essential oils specific for the purpose of their first meeting. While standing on the stairs – staring into the vast universe of stars, she fought hard to remember his face, she could not. Her future husband had not made an impression on her. She yearned for the Rider because now she had even lost the sounds of the Cora. She wished him present with all her strength. The magnificent strength of the horse and Rider, she felt before she saw the horse brush past her. She was scooped up into his arms. Then she heard the sound of the Cora, she heard the exquisite notes of the Cora, Looked into the Rider’s eyes. No, it was not the Rider, she heard the notes, in minute detail and the thundering of the music. She looked up behind her and saw and heard the wondrous Cora player. Her first love had come to claim her and she surrendered to his magnanimous adoration.


All rights belong to its author. It was published on by demand of Barbara Werchota.
Published on on 04/29/2004.


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