Summary | Not for Sale | Anon

Summary           ' Not for Sale ' by an anonymous writer is a heart touching story of a young couple madly in love who overcome all obstacles for the sake of their love and togetherness. The author was on a vacation when he came across a painting of a young woman . The painting was extraordinary and very expressive. He wished to buy it. But the woman in charge of the shop denied saying that the painting belonged to the owner of the shop and he did not wish to sell it. However, the painting was so touching that it kept haunting the author. Whenever he got a chance, he would drive all the way through Taos and to the gallery and see the painting. Finally, the woman shopkeeper told him the story behind the painting. Two young students, a man and a woman, fell madly in love while they studied painting and arts in New York, far from their homes . They decided to get married and have a promising career in painting.           How...

Once Upon A Time | Gabriel Okara

About the Poet

        Gabriel Okara (1921 -) is a Nigerian poet. His widely anthologized poems reflect on the tribulations of nation-building and the traumas that befall the self. The Fisherman's Invocation (1978) is his most ambitious work, the collection shared a Common Wealth Poetry Prize.

About the Poem

        As we grown we tend to lose our innocence, our simple ways of behavior. Artificiality or affectation and hypocrisy creep into our behavior. The poet Gabriel Okara, therefore, asks his son to show him how to laugh and smile, which once upon a time he used to when he was a child like his son.

Once Upon A Time

Once upon a time, son,
they used to laugh with their hearts
and laugh with their eyes;
but now they only laugh with their teeth,
while their ice-block-cold eyes
search behind my shadow.

There was a time indeed
they used to shake hands with their hearts;
but that's gone, son.
Now they shake hands without hearts;
while their left hands search
my empty pockets.

'Feel at home !' 'Come again';
they say, and when I come
again and feel
at home, once, twice,
there will be no thrice -
for then I find doors shut on me.

So I have learned many things, son.
I have learned to wear many faces
like dresses - homeface,
officeface, streetface, hostface,
cocktailface, with all their conforming smiles
like a fixed portrait smile.

And I have learned too,
to laugh with only my teeth
and shake hands without my heart.
I have also learned to say, 'Goodbye,
when I mean 'Good-riddance';
to say 'Glad to meet you'
without being glad, and to say 'It's been,
nice talking to you' after being bored.

But believe me, son,
I want to be what I used to be
when I was like you, I want
to unlearn all these muting things.
Most of all, I want to relearn
how to laugh, for my laugh in the mirror.
shows only my teeth like a snake's bare fangs.

So show me, son,
how to laugh; show me how
I used to laugh and smile
once upon a time when I was like you.

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