The Constant Gardener

The Constant Gardener

aka
The Magical Gardener
aka
The Silent Gardener

The little girl squinted upwards. The roar of thunder sounded as if the skies had a bad throat and were trying to clear it. Just then a big drop of rain fell into her right eye. "Ewe..." was the groan as the little mind put two and two together and connected sore throat, thunder and raindrops together... the very thought of sky spitting on her face was gross enough. But it was the muddy brown water splashed by a boy on a bicycle that made her twist her face in weird ways.

The sky was getting darker and rains heavy. Almost everyone else had left by now. She stood on edge of her toes to peek out from under the shelter of defunct bus-stop to spot the familiar metallic silver of her daddy's car around the corner. All she found was gray and brown. It was getting cold and she rubbed her own arms to keep herself warm. The whiff of ginger flavored tea tickled her nose. She turned her head as much to right as she could.

Steaming kettle on a fiery stove, tea boiling over, sending out enchanted wafts of bewitchment, promising comfort of mother's hug in every sip.

"Good kids don’t drink tea." Mama's words rang in her ear. Suddenly a pit made its presence felt in her stomach, growing with every warm gingerly breath that victoriously fought with cold air for right to run down the her nasal hallways. She turned her back towards the tea-stall and once again turned her gaze to the corner of the road.

The sight made her smile. It wasn't her dad's car, but the very same boy who had splashed water all over her school dress, walking back, dragging his bicycle along with him. He was waist deep in water. When the boy came near, she made it a point to display her delight at his plight. The boy gave her a stupid grin and moved on. Then he stopped and turned, saw her anxiously scanning the road.

"The road is flooded for as far as I could see, and could also see a few cars floating in water." And with those words he let out a satisfying smile and pedaled off into the clear roads.

Of course, she said to herself. That's why daddy couldn't send the driver. It gave her some comfort, but cold comfort. She suddenly realized that phones will not be working and she might be stuck here for a long long time. All kinds of monstrous thoughts started poking her mind. She put up rocky walls of defiance, but monsters were relentless. Dark clouds rumbled and brandished their silver sword of lightening. It had the effect. A small breach in the walls. And resistance began to flow, ever so slowly from tired eyes. Another thunder, and lightening, and the walls came crashing down.

Tears and rain ran down her face. She stood there shivering, eyes still transfixed on the corner of the road, which was getting blurry with every moment. Initially she tried to be brave and not cry too loudly, lest she catch the attention of scary looking men in the teashop. Finally she sat on her schoolbag, buried her head in her knees and let the tears flow.

A soft touch on back of her head ruffled her hair. "You'll be alright now, I am here." said the voice in her head. Was it a dream? No, if it were, it would have sounded like dad.

She looked up. The wrinkled, tired and muddy face of Buddha Baba stared back at her. Buddha Baba, old man, that's what she always called him. She liked calling him Goonga Baba, mute old man. But her father was very strict about not calling him that. He was the gardener who lived in the servant quarters and tended the huge garden that surrounded the officers' bungalow. Her dad treated him with a respect which really irritated her. Her dad was the Sahib ji and he was just one of the many servants. Normally she would have screamed and kicked if he had even called her by name. But now, the girl just got her first lesson in perspective and how powerful it is.

He was carrying a polythene sheet to shield himself from rain. He hoisted the little girl on his shoulders and wrapped the polythene around her. And then he walked towards the corner of the road. She sat in his shoulders, stiff and straight backed, holding on to her shoulders. Soon, the hand wrapped around his forehead and chin rested on his head as her eyes gave up the fight to stay open, what was there to see but brown water and gray skies?



I am floating on a soft white cloud. It moves at the command of my thoughts and carries me across the rainbow, into the land full of warm hot chocolate. I land near the tea garden. A hug sign outside says kids not allowed. An old man is in the garden, he asks me to come over and have some tea. He has mossy teeth and long clawed hands. The tea vines from the garden start to snake towards me. I run towards my white cloud, which is struggling to get across the river of milk to me. The vines are getting near, I can’t swim. But I have to get to my cloud. I am scared of jumping into the river as I know I will drown. The vines catch up with me. The old man in garden runs up to me and smiles at me. The vines snake around my ankles. "I got you now." he says. He takes a deep breath and lets out a deep roar and I fall into the river.



He sneezed and his knees almost gave away, water splashed onto little girl’s knees and she woke up from her dream, slightly disoriented. Water was beyond her ankles now, up to his neck. The sky had gotten even darker and rain was as relentless as ever. And then, she too sneezed. The polythene protected from water, not from cold. A frail but coarse hand caressed her cheek and then pointed somewhere ahead. She could see the bungalow. She was almost home.

*******

"What is this ma?" the little girl asked, staring into the strange brew swirling in her cup. She tried to decipher the aroma, but it was a strange one, she'd never had anything like this before. Thunder roared outside, it didn't seem so threatening from the comfort of her cozy Mickey Mouse blanket.

"It’s a kahwa"

"Ka---? kya?"

"Kahwa... like a tea." Those words made the little girl go wide eyed. "Yes, like a tea for kids when they catch cold."

"Why did you not give it to me before ma?" the little one asked as she took a sip of it. A strong honey flavor to it which, unknown to her masked the drab taste of a dozen herbs that went into it.

"Because...” said Ma as she pulled her into her lap, "I only got it yesterday. You know the story of the magical gardener?" Then she went on to tell her a magical story about a magician, who could harness the magic in plants and flowers.

He had a little daughter who died from a sickness, which his magic couldn't cure. He decided to spend all his life, knowing all that there was to know about magical plants and herbs. He talked to them to know what their qualities were, understood there problems and chose whom to marry to whom to ensure their kids have the magic of both of them. Slowly he found the cure of every disease known to man, and even the ones yet unknown. But the one that killed his daughter eluded him. The common cold. Then one day a little girl came to his garden. She reminded him of his own little daughter. He smiled at her, but she got scared and ran away. But unknown to little girl, there was some magic within her. Wherever her feet touched the garden's soil, it changed color. And it was from that soil that he managed to create a new plant, a new magical herb that could cure everything, even common cold.

"So you see, this kahwa is made from that magical herb that can cure everything. If it hadn't been for maali kaka, you would have been very sick. No doctor could come yesterday because of all the rains." Ma smiled at her daughter. She took a deep swig from her cup.

"Even if doctor had come, he would have given me a BIG injection." She was about to finish off the contents of her cup in one final swig when she suddenly stopped, as if spotted a fly in her soup. "Where is maali kaka ma?"

Maali kaka... this was the first time she had called him maali kaka.

"I don't know, haven't seen him since he gave the herbs yesterday. Must be in his quarters"

And in that moment mind was made. The moment mom got off the bed, she got down and ran for the door, barefooted. It was still raining outside. She sprinted across the garden.

*******

Ma ran, screaming and shouting after her errant daughter. When she reached the ajar door of servant quarters, she was panting from the exercise. She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself down, keep her anger in check... barely. But the moment she opened the door, all those deep breaths were knocked out in one swift stroke. She saw her little daughter's little hands wrapped around the cup as she carefully poured the not-so-steaming-anymore kahwa into mouth of the shivering old man on lying on the cot.

*******

"Then what happened ma?"

My little one asks me as she stares into the strange brew swirling in the cup in her hands.

"Then, maali kaka was cured, like magic and from that day onwards the little girl was always playing with him in the garden."

"And they lived happily ever after?"

"Ha ha ha ha..." I can't stop the laughter, "Yes they did." or the tears that sneakily follow as my eyes turn towards the window and catch the potted plant, occupying the central position in the small garden I have tried to come up with in our cramped apartment's balcony.

As I see my daughter finish up the kahwa, I think of many more tales to tell her. As everything around that little girl fell apart, one by one, over the years, he was the one constant in her life. Whether it was Ma and Daddy's divorce, Chhotu's death in a road accident, or my own failed first marriage, if one thing that was constant, it was the silent presence of maali kaka. The day I first went to college, he gave me that magical herb he had himself cultivated. He died a few weeks later, but to me he still lives. But those tales can wait, for some other day.

If he had a scientific education, he would have become a great bio-scientist. But now, he is much more. He was a magician. And he was always present, around me. Taking care of me, and my family. As I look at my daughter, am not sure of what future beholds for her, if I will be there for her or not. But there is one thing am sure of, maali kaka will always be there. He shall be hers, as he is mine...
silent,
magical,
eternal...

...Constant.

I Wonder... almost

I Wonder... Almost

a companion story to A Story Called Almost by supriyad... almost

I wonder... about the pass that said By invitation only, to a valentine's day dinner, candle light and your favourite Jazz band... the pass that I almost hid somewhere under a stack of clothes in a well-tended wardrobe, a surprise that almost was. But the pass was killed by two cute fluffy rabbits hugging each other tight, on a Valentine's Day card with a hallmark song shining on pink bubble hearts... a card from you, but not for me, wasn't it meant to be?

A black smudge scars the red, where first tears of a dying heart were shed.


I wonder... about the song I wrote for you, of laughter and smiles and our times together. But it drowned in the rain... waiting for you as it saw you smile and hug your friends, but you never came... and we, were never the same.

Unsung memories flush down a drain, where euphoria is another victim to pain.


I wonder... about the kiss that never came. I turned and blinked, capturing an image of you in my mind... waited for you to turn and run to me. You didn't turn, you didn't run. I saw you staring back at me, from the mirror of your pretty dresser, that look in your eyes... rusty knives and icy spears, pinned your image to back of my head.

Sepia withdrew and red has gone, where colors go to die alone.


I wonder... about lost moments. If you ever noticed who I really was... past who you thought, I was, always there. Hopeful, you'll be greedy for more, for all you were yet to find... that it can never be enough, when love is all you want. But we lost, each other somewhere on the way, for I turned around, but you were not there... anywhere.

In the middle of nowhere... lost, where forgotten ways come to a crossroad.


I wonder... about the times I felt, driving away from home, your touch, as wind ran through my hair. A sad smile lingers, at the whiff of whispers of a ghost in my ear, revealing your secrets, that I never hear.

Stuck in throat a laughter that chokes, where flagging dreams strangulate all hopes.


I wonder... about the day I almost told you, how I lost everything and owned nothing at all, nothing, but you... ? But before the words could rise up my throat... they choked, they crackled in the dry cold... aching for a drop of promise that never came.

Ruthless mirages of a barren land, where the oasis are nothing but castles of sand.


I wonder... about the stories I found, written words scrawny, crawled in haste... stories of love, unrequited... gone to waste.

Undead love's memory departs, where zombies bleed from broken hearts.


I wonder... about the things I said, about real feelings in your imaginary head. Was it a lie meant to deceive, times when you said you believe??? Believe in me, and my love... kissing under mistletoes and turtledoves? Believe in love, beyond distance and time, logic and reason... a higher faith for every season?

Angels and demons are all the same, where love is condemned in God's name.


I wonder... about the home I built, where we could be together and never leave. Our most beautiful dream come true, a labour of love, for me and you. I'd kiss you everytime we fight... a kiss that would set all right. For that was the dream we always had, but dreams of imaginary kind, were all you wanted... and left me alone in an empty house, cold, blue and haunted.

Delusions take the guise of dreams, where cries of help are terrifying screams.




I wonder... about the fortune teller's lies. It wasn't a dream... almost.

Monster In The Park

Monster In The Park

"Hey shorty, go get the ball."

This was the easy way out for all the big boys. They started to grumble about the heat and how difficult it was to field and bowl in such tiring conditions.

The little boy turned to look at the garbage dump at the north western corner of the park and what looked like a pile of rags shuffling amidst the heap of filth. It was officially a park for kids to play. But its convenient location, away from most of the residential complexes, meant it was the place where decent and nice folks came in night to throw their filth, only stopping to exchange uneasy nods. There was a huge fine to pay if they were caught dumping trash, everyone caught everyone else all the time.

"Didn't you hear me?" The biggest of all pushed him hard in the chest. The little boy fell down. It made the big boys feel better, helped them hide the fear that was clouding their faces.

The lil boy got up, brushed dust and grass off his clothes and started to walk towards the northwestern corner, turning every now and then to take a look at all the big guys grinning and sneering. The lil boy took a deep gulp as he reached his destination and spotted the ball in its hands.


"Can I have..." and words froze in his mouth for a while as the thing turned around.

Underneath the dirty ragged sack was the most twisted face he'd ever seen. Fat stubby fingers shoved an almost green loaf of bread into a black gaping hole with fiery yellow claws that reached out and grabbed the green bread and shredded and ground it to dust till a long blackish tongue came and pulled the greenish yellow mass into the darkness... could almost hear a thousand little fiendish dwarves squirming inside that abyss, waiting to pounce on whatever came down that black hole, never to escape... ever.

It stared at the lil boy... sweaty and dirty, then at the big boys standing at far corner of the park who shuffled on their feet as they caught his gaze... trying to hide behind each other, and then at the yellow ball in his hands... rolling it slowly and throwing it in air and catching it. A glint, barely perceptible to normal eye, shone in its eyes every time they followed the ball’s rise in air. And a barely audible grunt of triumph gushed forth every time blackened hands took the ball in their grip, like a vice, only to hurl it up again leaving behind tell tale streaks. Tiger stripes.

And then suddenly fear took over as a stray dog waged a war over _its_ carefully assembled five course meal. The red ball found itself rolling in banana skins as there was none to break its fall. The lil boy answered its expectant stares and picked it up, as the monster was distracted by a scrawny stray. It was too late; the dog won. After staring at the dog run away till it turned a corner on the street, it turned to look for the ball.


The lil boy almost gasped in horror.


Gone were its monstrous claws and teeth. Instead there were hands blackened by bruises and dirt. The hideous face had given way to a 40 year old face twisted by pain. Eyes, red and fiery earlier, seemed have burnt too much in their own fury and ached to put out the fire, bucketful of hunger ready to douse it out and streak across the face, giving it the salty bath they hadn't had in a long time... which would be since morning.

"Hurry up bozo, we aint got all day" a voice screamed from behind him and suddenly everything seemed to change as others followed the suit.

In that one moment the lil boy felt all the big bullies shrink in size, there voices no more than squeak of mouse to his ears, fading further away into distance as they returned to comfort of their AC rooms.

In that moment the boy felt something swell inside his chest and overflow to his eyes.

And in that moment, eyes clouded by something he just discovered, the lil boy saw It, turn into Him.


Also in that moment the boy's hands discovered something inside his shorts' pockets.


"Will you play with me?"

The boy made the offer with a handful of chocolates. Chocolates… the bullies were to snatch from him later.

The Yellow Balloon

The Yellow Balloon

a.k.a.
The Sleeping Buddha

Author's Note: This story was inspired by the title... I've had the title with me for over three months now alongwith the prologue. This was written after a long night in office, to relax. No doubt, was rather shaky and sleepy when wrote it... some part could've been written better, but once I reached the end, I was refreshed enough to work for next 24 hours. Hope you too feel the way I did by the time you reach The End... and if yoy do, you'll know THIS is the only way this should have been written.



[ PROLOGUE ]


Hesitantly, and very slowly, pair of bright lil eyes open and peek from beneath the covers. They take a while to adjust to the light in the room and blink once. The crayon sketches on the wall come a bit into focus. They blink again as they search for something in the colorful little room, the calendar. They follow a trail of red 'X's and rest at the big red 'O' right next to the last 'X'. Suddenly clarity rushes in and a pair of lil feet jump out of the bed and onto the floor, mimicking the heart trying to race away from the grasp of a fragile ribcage. The soft pitter-patter of lil naked feet follows the trail of the lil boy in his pajamas as he runs across the small hallway into the master bedroom, the door is ajar. Pair of eyes, as clear and charming as a vanilla sky reflect the sliver of darkness beyond the door. Suddenly, maybe responding to the whining of feet fighting a losing battle with cold floor, right hand pushes the door open.

The window curtain is slightly off and a solitary streak of silver cuts her into half. She stirs and her left cheek catches some moonlight. The bright lil eyes stare at the angelic face, then at the clock on the wall, time of morning when both hands combine to form one long hand, and then again at the signs of sun about to wake up from its dreamy eyed slumber in the eastern window. As if to help him with his quandary, she curls up a little, with exactly enough space between her chin and knees for him to fit into. He walks up to the bed, rests his chin on its edge and smiles. He takes in the most beautiful sight in the world... the calm bliss on his Momma’s face. He pulls himself up and snuggles into her arms. Momma takes the lil boy in as if she was waiting for him all along. Five minutes ago he was too perked up and excited about the day to even blink for too long. Five minutes later he is sleeping as if he never wants to wake up again.

******

She wakes up, her arm and bosom warmer than it normally is and they smell different from the perfume she had on her when she went to sleep. A giant invisible hand seems to squeeze her brain, limiting the room for any comprehension that may creep in. But moist footprints left by lil warm feet on cold floor wrings that hand away and warmth fills her body like hot chocolate... and nose too. She follows the aroma as if under a spell. A quick glance at wall clock tells her its just 7:30am, has slept for measly three hours, but even that doesn't weigh on her much. Once she reaches the kitchen, a gasp sprints up and her hand is a bit too late to stop it from escaping. On the dining table are two butter toasts, a pair of boiled eggs and a steaming cup of hot chocolate. And right next to them, a bowl of cereal with only a few cereals left in the milk, which are scooped up by the spoon and gobbled up by a lil mouth. Suddenly, aware of her presence, the lil boy puts the spoon down, looks up at her and smiles. She tries to decipher the smile, angelic, they always are, but they’re more than that. An expectant smile, smile of an obedient child who has not put a wrong foot for weeks and finally day he reaps his rewards has come.

"Oh my God! I totally forgot." she gasps again as realization dawns on her.

The smile still remains, but the light in the eyes begins to flicker out. It doesn't take her a moment to decipher what it means.

"Oh no baby, don’t be sad. Momma promised you and she will keep her promise, this time nothing comes before you." she says as she lifts him form the chair and holds him close to her. Tears streak down her face and wet his right shoulder.

She spends the next half an hour making a few calls, taking shower and then making up and dressing for the big day. She doesn't need to dress up, but she knows her lil boy loves to watch her get all decked up. And she absolutely loves the look of reverence in his eyes when she is all dressed up... like a Barbie doll... though mostly it makes her very sad, afraid how much more time she has before he finds out that... but no, no time for such thoughts. Right now she is dressing up, not for work, not for herself either... but for her solitary source of joy, her beacon. It’s the least she could do for him... more so today... maybe the only thing she can...

[ The Yellow Balloon ]

He sits on the bench, his legs dangling down, and looks around. This is what he loves about town fair. Lots of people, colors, sights and sounds. He looks around, trying to figure out how to best spend the money Momma gave to him before she went.

She got a call from work when they were about to leave. She had his head resting on her right shoulder and her cell phone clutched between her left one and head during most of the walk to the fair. Then that uncle came to meet her, he didn't like that uncle, yet he couldn't tell Momma not to go with him. No, he was a brave kid, not afraid to be alone... at least not for long. Besides, he knew Momma would come back, for he was all she had, just as she was all he had... she loved him as much as he loved her, if not more.

It was not so long time ago. And the sights and sounds of the fair kept him busy. He loved the different colorful cutouts put up by the outside different tents, loved the lights on the merry-go-round. Then he sees her, the little girl with the yellow balloon. Most of the kids around, crying or whining, but she... blissfully playing with the yellow balloon. Once she catches his eye, he smiles, she smiles back. He knows what he wants... a yellow balloon. For his Momma, so that she can also be as happy as that little girl.

He stands on the bench, looks around. He spots a few colorful blobs in the distance, red blue green orange... but none yellow. Finally he spots a yellow one too. Gingerly, gets off the bench and carves his path amongst a sea of legs and reaches the balloon seller.

"What do you want?" he asks.

The lil boy points at the yellow balloon.

"This one?" he plucks at the string of the blue one. The lil boy rotates his head left to right and then back again a couple of times and points a lil to the right of blue one.

"This?" but he doesn't wait for answer. The boy's face lights up and he knows he wants the yellow one.

The lil boy hands out the money to the balloon man, takes the yellow balloon and runs back towards the bench, where Momma is standing, talking to another uncle. She doesn't look to happy. He smiles, knows what will make her happy and runs towards her, unaware of outstretched hand of the balloon seller trying to give him change. He sees Momma, she looks a lil anxious as she looks around, at her watch and starts to move away from the bench.

The lil boy breaks into a sprint, eyes a lil wider, if it were possible for his eyes to be wider and bigger than they already were, from worry. He watches Momma go away from him. He runs faster, yet she seems to be moving away. He runs faster, but his feet can't catch up with his mind or heartbeat and he trips. His chin hits the dusty ground, hand lets go of the string.

His vision gets clouded, but not a single tear escapes, he is a strong boy. His Momma is lost in sea of people. He looks up, the yellow balloon flies away from him. He bites his lower lip, gets up and dusts off his clothes. He doesn't like to get his clothes dirty coz Momma has tough time to wash them. He walks upto the bench and climbs it again. He looks upwards, squinting against the sun, his yellow balloon a mere speck. He watches it till it disappears into the sky. Then he looks around. No other yellow balloon. He consoles himself by saying he didn't even have money either. Suddenly the fair feels too crowded, too noisy, and he wants to get away from it.

He gets off the bench and runs to the nearest exit and sits away from it all in the grass, and starts to cry.




"Hello. Why are you so blue?"

He looks around, can't see anyone.

"Tsk... over here."

And there it is, a Yellow Balloon. Not his, but the one that the lil girl was carrying, only it had a pair of eyes, small nose and a mouth too... all yellow, of course.

"You can talk?" the boy said, almost surprised to hear his own voice... he had never spoken a word before, which worried his Momma too.

"Of course I can"

"Are you a magical balloon?"

"Why? Just coz I can talk?"

"Yes. Balloons can't talk. No one ever heard of a talking balloon."

"Well, then you must be magical too."

"Why?"

"Because you can hear me talking. We balloons can talk, all the time, but no one listens. All they ever hear is the hiss sound and they think we're leaking. Pffft... Humans."

The boy thinks about it. Even he never talks to anyone, but his Momma. Momma. He starts to cry, rather sob.

"Why are you sad?"

"I lost my balloon." he lies.

"Maybe you didn't lose it, it went away coz you didn't treat it well. Maybe it wanted to be lost. Where did it get lost?"

"Means?"

"Like look at me. You saw the lil girl who was playing with me? She was nice. But she doesn't know how to play with balloons. She would hit me gently and throw me up in air. I would go up and then come back to her. She would hit me again, this time harder than before, but still gently enough. I went even higher, but still came back to her, coz she was a nice girl. But all balloons have a limit to how much they will take. If you hit them more strongly than they can take... they will go really high, catch the tails of some passing wind and then go away, never come back to you. So one has to be very careful with balloons. I kept explaining same to her, but she won't listen, too old to listen to what a balloon has to say, already has her mind made up about most things. So, she kept hitting me harder and harder, laughing and jumping with joy each time. I came back to her every single time, because she was a nice girl. But then she went too far, so I just caught some wind, bounced off a few people's head and got out of there. The trick is to know when to stop, or know the limits. There is only so much we balloons can take. Now, you can hear us, so I don't think it would have been problem with you. So, what happened? Was your balloon a dumb?"


Dumb... the word sounded familiar, isn't that what other kids used to call him and tease him?

"One who can't speak...?" The boy still had a confused, rather pained expression on his face. "Okay, tell me where did your balloon go?"

The boy points his finger towards heavens.

"Aha! That explains it. Don't worry about that one. They are the worst of the lot. Obnoxious. I mean, we all balloons have big heads full of air, in fact heads are all we have, but their heads are full of hot gas. Yep, nothing but hot gas in there which makes them very 'floaty'" The balloon twirls his string into a loop as he says the word floaty. "They think they're smarter than all other species. Well, in fact all we balloons think so, and in fact consider it beyond our dignity to talk to lesser species like humans and all who are too deaf to even listen to words of wisdom we have to offer, that's the main reason why you mostly don’t get to hear any balloon talking as it was decided during the... wait, am digressing here. Oh my folly, you don't even know the meaning of the word digressing..."

"I know what digressing means, don’t be so condescending."

"Oh my, you are a smart one. Well, all in all, don’t worry about that one. Eventually he will run out of gas and fall and be trampled and ground to dust. But you can't own me forever either. Even I will eventually wear out and lose all the air. That is the fate that awaits us all." A distant pensive shadow falls across the balloon's face. "Of course, when I deflate, they can inflate me again, but it won’t be me. I'll be part of the atmosphere, till someone breathes me in and I'll become part of him or her.. or it. That's why I said we're a higher species... the yellow skin is just temporary, it’s the air that truly defines us. We can become humans, animals, birds... anything and everything that can breathe... or we can be just part of atmosphere in our purest form, unlike any other being. And only the truly blessed ones, are breathed in by a human and breathed out into a rubbery skin..."

*******

"I found you!"

Just when boy has forgotten everything but joy of the moment, he hears a voice. He turns around.

It’s the lil girl. Her eyes are red and puffy and cheeks are full of stains running down them... she's been crying. Her expectant stares go from the lil boy to the yellow balloon.

The lil boy looks at the balloon, who nods and smiles at him. The lil boy gives the yellow balloon to the girl. The girl smiles and says thank you to him. She turns back to look at him once as she goes, then once more, and then again. The boy waves goodbye to them, both. The lil boy slowly walks past the crowd, which suddenly seems very quiet. He feels as if he is walking through a sea of mannequins. He still doesn't know the words to describe what he feels. But he doesn't need them. He walks to the bench, climbs and sits on top of it. Looks around, sea of mannequins, moving around. He waits for his Momma to come back, wonders if she will come back. He takes a deep breath, lies down and closes his eyes.

[ EPILOGUE ]

People just walk past the bench near the western exit of the fair. But a few stop for a few moments, to look at the lil boy sleeping on the bench. A calm and serene glow on his face. A few take pictures of him. Soon they would appear on postcards and websites, with the caption... The Sleeping Buddha. But if they really knew the truth, if they could hear the balloons talking, they would caption them...

The Yellow Balloon.

[ The End ]

The Mighty Oak and Lil Birdie

Mighty Oak and The Lil Birdie

Note: The first and third act are written by me. This story is my birthday gift to a lil sis of mine, The Lil Birdie. She has written the middle act, Lil Birdie's Tale.


Once upon a time there was a mighty oak, the mightiest and grandest of all oaks. He stood on the top of the highest cliff, right near its edge. He had seen the sun rise from behind the Misty Mountains more than anyone else. When the sun finally went to sleep in the valleys of the White Mountains, The Mighty Oak's shadow would extend all across the lands and just as sun said its final goodbye, the shadow almost touched the Misty Mountains. It was common tradition amongst flora and fauna of the land to rest for a minute under The Mighty Oak's shadow, that was the closest they could ever get to "touch" The Mighty Oak.

The Mighty Oak had survived the longest, darkest and coldest winter, the lone survivor. The winter had failed to break him, but it did manage to enclose the mighty heart of The Mighty Oak in a shell of frozen bark. Thousands of suns after that had tried and failed to thaw the Ice of Indifference. So, the Mighty Oak, who once welcomed all to rest on his branches and eat his fruits, won't let even a bird near. But then it all changed one dark and stormy night.

It was a dark and stormy night. Lightening was flashing all over the sky, but careful enough not to venture near The Mighty Oak, he wasn't kind to trespassers. He was sleeping, dreaming of times gone by when he suddenly woke up. A lil birdie had fallen right into his branches. He shook her off violently and the lil birdie fell near his feet. Enraged by the gall of the birdie, he raised his fist to squash the lil birdie when the lightening flashed again. The fist stopped inches away from the lil birdie.

"Oh!" The Mighty Oak gasped with amazement. In all his years he had never seen such a bird before, an unseen wonder. The Mighty Oak felt something stir within him, a feeling he hadn't felt ever since he was a young tree eager to explore the world around him. His father called that feeling the disease of The Wanderer. To him it was the sense of wonder that only a child can feel, an amazement experienced at discovery of something new. Yes, the lil birdie had made him feel like a child again. He gingerly picked up the lil birdie, made a clumsy nest with some of his "hair" and very gently lay her down. Then he brought his branches closer to shield her from the rain. The Mighty Oak didn't sleep that night. There were no witnesses, but if there had been, they would have wondered if The Mighty Oak was crying or was it just rain.



Next morning it weren't the first rays of morning sun, but musical chirping of the lil birdie that woke up The Mighty Oak. Its left wing was badly mangled and left knew was bent in a strange way. But looking at her singing merrily one could be easily fooled that mangled wing and bent knees are the way all birdies are supposed to be. If there was any pain the lil birdie showed no sign of it.

"Hello GrandP" sang the Lil Birdie as she noticed that the Mighty Oak had woken up.

The Mighty Oak let out a rumbling laughter that woke up one and all in the lands. Even the sun rose from behind Misty Mountains, rubbing his eyes, still groggy at having being woken up before his time. None had ever heard The Mighty Oak say a word, so the hefty laughter echoing across Misty Mountains and Valley of White Mountains made sure that flora and fauna of all ages and colours came to witness the miracle. However, once there, they were all wary of The Mighty Oak and just chose to sit in his shadow. As the last squirrel found its seat, after stepping on a toe and two, the lil birdie started to tell her tale as to how she ended up in The Mighty Oak's care on that stormy night, so far away from home.

*** Lil Birdie's Tale ***
written by
The Lil Birdie

The birdie began her tale from the days when she was nothing but a fur ball. She was born on a nest perched on top of an oriental wooden door with fine medieval carvings. The door was part of an old but sturdy house which was all she knew about the world. Then one day, some birds unlike her kinds build their nests in the same house and brought with them stories of far away lands, beyond seven seas and seven mountains- lush with greens- beatific, almost divine. With time the little birdie got bored of the place. The dark walls of the house which comforted her once now seemed depressing. The soft green moss which was creeping up the wall made her uncomfortable and scared her in the nights. Too much familiarity borne an unbearable desire of unfamiliarity. The only trees she knew were the slim eucalyptuses with their bark falling off every now and then. Her home was a little too safe for her liking.

After days of nesting in , hopping around she finally began with her flying lessons one day. After a particular nasty fall she almost stopped believing that she’d ever be able to fly . She gave herself one last chance , deciding to try for one final time. She hopped over the length of a dusty old table and jumped off it. Instead of keeping her eyes open, she kept them closed this time. She was losing height swiftly but a voice from somewhere inside her asked her to flap her wings fast and then to align the wings straight and soar. When she opened her eyes, she was flying.

Euphoria of her first flight raised her spirits and her tiny wings followed them, rising higher and higher and higher…until she reached the ceiling and could go no higher. She thought of the clear blue sky above the eucalyptus tress. The birds had told her that there were no ceilings out in the sky, she wanted to feel the sky, she wanted to reach the end of the sky .Her faith in herself returned, her desire to find her dream strengthened. She told everybody that she wanted fly over the seven seas and seven mountains to the lands beyond- to have dip in the Stream of Stories.

But they told her she was too young, she wasn’t yet prepared for such a long flight and a desolate journey. She needed to pass the Seasons of Skill and Winds of Wisdom before she could even think of making it there. Yet, that very night the birdie left her nest, bid a silent adieu to her kinds. She flew out in the cool navy blue sky in search of the stream of stories, curious and excited. Her adventure had begun.

The mighty oak sensed that the birdie was getting a little sad remembering her loved ones she left behind. He wobbled his head and his dishevelled leafy hair tickled the birdie. The birdie giggled, and returned back to her chirping once again.

She told them that in the coming days she passed so many seasons ….she saw the trees being showered with the heaven’s nectar, shed their skins and the glossy leaves as they grew old. Then the white coldness took every thing under its evil reign .She still survived despite having nothing to eat . The blizzards that brought along fierce winds threw her off course so many times. Yet she moved on. Slowly the cold began retreating and spring was abloom.

One day the sun got extremely fiery by the day and her tiny wings gave up. Tired and thirsty she halted inside a cave. After sometime she heard tap tap of a water droplet hitting some water reserve. She flew in dark, following the sound. And then she found a tiny puddle of sparkling water. She drank out of it and she was thrown into an mystifying realm. She kept on drinking, quenching her thirst. Though the physical thirst was quenched, the thirst for that magical realm increased with every drop she drank. She realized it was the realm of stories that she was transported to. Different stories of different travellers in search of the Stream of Stories unfolded in front of her one by one. Through the stories she came to know that she had to narrate her tale to the puddle for it to refill itself. She also came to know that the seventh river flowing beyond the seventh mountain was the Stream of Stories.

She just had the last part of the journey left to fulfil her dream. She immediately flew towards the last remaining mountain. She followed a tiny brook through the mountains, the valley, and the moors only to land up at the Mighty Oak’s care. There the rivulet vanished mysteriously leaving her without any sense of direction, of what she was supposed to do next.

“What do I do now GrandP?” The birdie asked the Mighty Oak.

*** End of Lil birdie's Tale ***

*** Lil Nut's Tale ***

For a moment all went still and silent, even the winds. Everyone present held their breath and had eyes fixed on the Mighty Oak, waiting for his response. Only sound that could be heard was of something dripping from one of the bigger knots on him, forming an ever expanding puddle around him. All waited for the Mighty Oak to say the words that never came. Soon they all started to disperse and get back to their normal lives, many debating amongst themselves what was it dripping from the big knot on the Mighty Oak. Most believed them to be the tears and the knot to be one of his eyes, though none was sure and none of them will ever know the truth. That was only for lil birdie to know, and the squirrel who was courageous enough to run up to where Mighty Oak's roots dug into the ground.

For a long time the knot continued to drip, the puddle as big as a pond now and only the lil birdie and the squirrel were in the middle of that island that was The Mighty Oak. The squirrel, who could neither talk or listen, made a small cosy hole in the ground and went to sleep. The lil birdie still had the same expression of awe and anticipation as the one when she had asked,

"What do I do know GrandP?"

"Once upon a time..." the lil birdie heard the wind whisper in her ears. It took her a while to realise it was The Mighty Oak talking, though it wasn't really his voice. It was as if she could hear his thoughts, or maybe she wanted him to answer so badly that she had started to imagine it all. But the lil birdie listened carefully, oblivious to everything else. "...there was a Lil Nut."



Ever since he was born, he had been hearing tales of distant lands beyond the seven seas and seven mountains. All he wanted to do was to be a traveller. Many a times he tried to roll off in his wanderings but always ended up in moss.

"You are a nut, if you were meant to travel you would have had wings, or even feet." his mother would say, as she scrubbed the mouldy green moss off him. But he never paid any heed. All that he wanted to do was fly across the seven seas and see the worlds no nut or oak had ever seen before. HE wanted to tell everyone stories of lands and places far far away, stories no one would believe in. His father got really worried when he didn't develop any roots even into his second birthday.

"Son, you are a little nut now. But a nut is not what you are meant to be. You are one day going to be a great oak. How great and mighty, is up to you. Don't envy the birds because they can fly across lands and oceans and skies. They are travellers across space. But you can be a great traveller across time. You can see things which many generations of these birds will never get to see, you can outlive the existence of many of them. Soon a time will come when only you shall know of them. You will tell stories of things you have seen and none shall believe you. But to do that you will have to be a strong oak. There are more ways to drink on Streams of Stories than the birds know of. Take roots my lil one, stand your ground, firmly. And one day you shall be a mighty oak, a traveller across time."

The lil nut smiled at these words and soon he had tiny little roots. As the roots dug deeper into ground, they found Streams of Forgotten stories, streams that only ran under the ground now. Soon the roots went farther and deeper than any others' had ever before and the lil nut grew to be a mighty and strong oak, spreading far more under the ground than above it.

As the oak grew, so did his thirst for stories. Afraid that he might drink all the seven rivers, gods decided to turn them all to ice. The coldest and longest winter ever engulfed the earth into a giant sheet of Ice. All the rivers froze. No tree or animal could survive for their was no water anywhere. Only the mighty oak, with his vast reach was able to find traces of water deep underground, where the frost of gods couldn't reach. But the cold did manage to reach beyond The Mighty Oak's bark, freezing the water within him. It was as if he had been stabbed with a thousand little knives. The Mighty Oak let out a mighty roar, a cry of anguish. The Mighty Oak was never heard again.

The rumble of that roar shook the heavens. Scared, and realising their folly, they relented and the winter came to an end. But the Stream of Stories was gone, frozen forever. Only a few brooks here and there searching for the Lost Stream of Stories were left, which most mistook to be the Seventh River, the Stream of Stories.

*** The Death of The Mighty Oak ***

Little drops of tears welled up in lil birdie's eyes. She had come so far, but all in vain.

"So GrandP, does it mean I travelled all the way in vain?" she said, crying, head buried in her wings. A small nut fell on her head and she looked up.

A magnificent sight beheld her. The Grand Old Mighty Oak was no longer there. Gone were the dry branches and wrinkled bark. There now stood the most magnificent Oak one had ever seen, though it looked less like an oak and more like...

"What are you?" said lil birdie, amazed.

The Mighty Oak had leaves and nuts of all colours, nuts that caught sunlight and let out little nut shaped rainbows. The knot which was "weeping" had opened up into a big heart shaped hole from which gushed forth a frothing river.

"The River of..." exclaimed the lil birdie.

The Mighty Oak smiled and nodded, and finally talked.

"Yes, the River of Stories, stories from lands that were once upon a time. Stories I had collected over all these ages. But there are many more to find, many more stories to tell. My father was right, I have travelled across time. But now, once again, I yearn to travel across far lands. I wish to be the lil nut again. Time has come for me to go, to sleep. But I want you to promise something, will you?"

The lil birdie nodded, without even knowing what she was going to promise.

"Take me with you, in search of stories, on travels across distant lands. I want to travel across space, and in return, I shall make you a traveller across time."

"But.." before lil birdie could say anything, the Mighty Oak pushed her away with a swift blow of his arm. The Mighty Oak doubled up, coughing a thousand nuts. The squirrel, who was sleeping till now, woke up to find himself in what he thought was heaven. The skin of the Mighty Oak started to crack and streaks of light shot forth. Suddenly there was a bright flash of light and sound of exploding water. Even the sun had to shield his eyes as he felt like a pale shadow of himself. And then suddenly it went dark.

No one could see anything, just hear the distant sound of water rushing.

"Lookout, the sky is falling" said a lil chicken and covered his head.

Rest looked up and literally saw the sky coming down on them. All instinctively covered their heads with their arms and waited for world to end. The sound of falling sky got louder and fiercer. And then there was a huge...

SPLASH!

The Mighty Oak was all but gone, only bottom part of the trunk remained and it was spouting a steady stream of water, or stories as all those who were there and believers like to call them. That was the end of The Mighty Oak.

The Lil Birdie wasn't sure whether to feel glad at end of her journey or feel sad at her loss. And Mighty Oak had gone before explaining anything to her. That was when the squirrel ran upto her, holding a little nut. It was like any other nut, but was unlike all other nuts which were rainbow colored. The nut looked very much like...

"The Mighty Oak!” exclaimed the birdie. And suddenly she understood everything as she held him in her right wing. The birdie made a necklace using some of the bark from remains of the mighty oak, with the Lil Nut in the centre as a pendant and put it around her neck. As soon as she did, she felt a stronger beat in her heart. All others saw the lil birdie bathed in a glow not much different from one of The Mighty Oak.

The Lil Birdie flew off, the lil nut around her neck. A traveller across time, and a traveller across space, now together. The Lil Nut who was once a Mighty Oak gave the Lil Birdie the eternally long life to travel across time. The Lil Birdie gave the Lil Nut the wings to fly across space. To this day they travel in search of stories. They stop every now and then, to rest, and to share their stories with those who are Nuts enough to believe them.

And of course, they pay an occasional visit to their rainbow colored squirrel friend who can't talk or hear, but loves listening to their stories. After all, squirrels love nuts, of all kinds, don't they?

[ THE END ]

Reds, and Violets

Reds, and Violets
originally posted on requiem.sulekha.com

Note: This was supposed to be posted here before sulekha, but some access issues willed otherwise. Also, Hensel and Gretel sequel isup on sulekha, will be posted here as soon as I sort out some formatting issues.

I
Violets are calm,
Roses are violent,
voices choke,

memories mock,

Love turns silent.

II

Roses are red,

when love is true,

Juliet weeps,

Romeo bleeds,

Love turns Blue.

III

Red dawn pines,

Violet dusks mourn,

a silent song,

painfully long,

A Requiem for Love long gone.

Teaser of Gretel Remembers

Teaser of Gretel... remembers

Okay, this is the opening chapter [rather prologue] of second part of Hensel And Gretel series. It was originally envisioned as a two part series, but now feel it might turn out to be a three part series... maybe longer too. As of now its titled "Prologue" but rest assured it will be named soon [Marshes of Forgetfulness, Again].

*** Prologue ***

The lead wolf flared his nostrils and snarled. The smell of the prey filled his senses and dripped from the fangs shining in moonlight. Rest formed a circle around the little boy, whose eyes were still following the distant silheoutte of a lil girl running away into the darkness, a distant wistful look glazed his eyes. One of the wolves behind him made a slow move. Leaves rustled under its paw. The little boy jolted back to his place in the center of a circle of wolves. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and opened them again. In that one moment the woodcutter's son had almost become the man his father one day wanted him to be.

Five wolves. He weighed his odds, but then, he didn't really have a choice. Only if he had a weapon to fight, an axe, a spear, a twig... anything. Suddenly a sturdy branch fell near him. He picked it up, could use it as a club. The wolves paused, looked at their leader. His eyes narrowed, knees bent and nose almost touched the ground. And then he let out a roar and one of the wolves jumped at the boy from behind. Pure instinct made him turn and WHAM! The club hit the wolf staright on the jaw and he fell on the ground whimpering. But the little boy had no time. Leaping bodies, slashing claws, snapping fangs and a blurry club waiving around was all a pair of distant crying eyes could see.

The boy was winning the battle, could have, but fate willed otherwise. Fighting and roling on the ground to escape attacks he had reached the edge of the marshes, The Marshes of Forgetfulness. The lead wolf leapt at him and sank his fangs in his shoulder. He rolled to get him off and kicked him. The lead wolf let him go. But the boy's right leg touched the marshes. And they pulled him in. A mist rose from the marshes. The boy tried to scream, hoping for a rope or anything to hold on to. But no sound escape his lips. His last breath escaped his lips, only to be imprisoned in a bubble that escaped to the surface and finally broke free. A faint sound swept through the forest and the village like a shockwave, a name...

*******
"Gretel"

"Gre-tel..."
*******

It wiped the little boy's memories, every sign of his existence. The boy was now just a mist, mist of a forgotten memory meant to dwell the netherworld of the marshes. The lil boy was forgotten by all, and so was his name... a name that never existed, except for in a deep dark corner of a girl's mind.
And he waited for her to remember.

[to be completed soon]

A Cindrella Twist

I know most waiting for Gretel to remember Hensel again and wondering what fate awaits them, but they can wait as am upto my neck in work and unable to take time and visit them. Thankfully there was a small story contest at work and I did manage to send in my entry at last minute, mainly coz it had a 500 word limit. The contest was based on premise "What if Cindrella had not forgotten her glass slipper behind?" And this is my twist on the classic Cinderella story as I submitted. Its not exactly the way I wanted it to, my original version was about 1000 words, might post it if I get time [which seems very unlikely before 30th June]

Anyhow, here is the entry the way I submitted it. Hope you all are able to see the glimpses of the complete story that I was trying to weave in here. And now you know why I never edit my stories, they take the soul away. Well, enjoy.

A Twisted Cindrella Story

By the time Cinderella reached the doors of the Ball Room her dress had already started to reveal the signs of the patchwork tatters it really was. Her heart was pounding so loudly she could neither hear the pleas of the prince as he ran after her nor of the queen who was ordering the guards to hold prince back. She only wanted to get away form the prince before he knew who she really was, yet at the same time wishing that prince would follow her and find out who she was and still love her.

But the prince couldn’t follow her. He doubled up with pain the moment he stepped out into the moonlight. Moments later a bloodcurdling howl echoed across the kingdom. That was the last anyone ever saw or heard of the prince. Soon the word spread that the prince was sick. Some said love sick while others mentioned some sort of curse. But only the Queen knew the truth.

When the prince was born he was taken away by a leprechaun named Rumpeltstiltskin. He had lost a game to the queen and had to return the prince, but in his final moments he had placed a curse on the prince. The prince was to turn into a werewolf on the night of his 18th birthday. It was a fairy godmother, the same one who helped Cinderella, who told the queen of the only way to end the curse. If somehow the Prince could find his true love and kiss her on his 18th birthday, the curse would be broken. That was the reason queen had announced a dance ball and invited all the maidens across all the lands.

"Don't lose heart, for there is where love resides. And as long as there is love, there is hope."

The late king's words echoed in her head as the queen cast her eyes on her sleeping son. He was werewolf but his heart was... "Yes, hope is not lost, not yet."

The queen promised great wealth and riches to anyone willing to marry the Prince but the few who dared to come forward only managed to scream and bolt in fear at the sight of the "The Beast". None of them loved him. Queen had given up all hope when "she" came.

Cinderella didn't scream or run but started to cry. The Prince didn't gnarl or roar but let out a sigh and his paw wiped the tears off her face. Then something magical happened. The palm opened up, the hair receded. They kissed. The back straightened, the prince stood erect again and… the curse refused to recede further.

That night Cinderella married her “Beast” prince who grew more charming as their love grew. First three years of their marriage inspired many ballads and tales, "Beauty And The Beast" being most popular though inaccurate. Finally, the curse was fully broken on prince's 21st birthday and they both lived happily ever after.

The End

Hensel... Forgotten

Hensel and Gretel
Part-I

Hensel… Forgotten

Once upon a time...

Once upon a time there was a village, surrounded by a thick dark forest so old that no one really knew what its name was. The village was founded by two brothers known only as The Grimm Brothers, though if they were alive now they would tell you they are actually The Brothers Grimm. The settlers in the village were all brave souls who had once upon a time went through dark times to finally find their happily ever afters. That's why the village was named Everafter and everyone lived happily in Everafter.

But that was long ago. There was a severe drought and food was hard to come by. No one dared venture into the forest. It was believed that in the forest dwelled the dark soul of every evil stepmother and witch and wolves that they had vanquished at one time or another. Some said in the forest lived a great red dragon, others believed it to be a demon from hell while most believed it was just an evil witch. No one knew for sure and none in the village were as brave as the fairy tales made them out to be, except for two. Hensel and Gretel.

Hensel was the son of the woodcutter. The woodcutter was the only one who dared venture into the woods, though even he went only as far as from where he could still see the white cat perched on the roof of his house. Gretel was the daughter of... no one really knew. She was found in the forest and brought up by the last surviving of the seven dwarves. Hensel and Gretel had something in them that all others had long forgotten, an innocence that knows no fear. It was that innocent fearlessness that made them an outcast amongst other kids, and brought them together.

But this is not story about how they found each other, but how they lost.

Gretel, The Goddess

"Hensel, I am scared."

Hensel looked at her, there were tears in her eyes. She was really scared.

"Don't be. I'll be there with you. There is nothing to be afraid of. I'll never let you go." With these words he took Gretel's hand in his and gave them a tight squeeze. Final drops of tears left her eyes and they were wet no more. She felt a reassuring calm surround her in its protection. It was first time ever she had felt need for such a calm and it had overwhelmed her to find it in him. She slept peacefully that night, not worrying about the perils that lay ahead.

Gretel had been chosen as the Goddess for a ritual to reverse fortunes of the village. The sacrifice required someone pure enough to be worthy of being called a goddess. Gretel was that, but mainly she got selected because she was the only girl who had no elder to speak for her. Cinderella, Rapunzel and Snow White all ensured that their daughters didn't get selected. The fact that Gretel was a couple of years too young was also conveniently overlooked.

That evening Gretel was dressed like a Goddess and taken to the heart of the forest in a sombre procession. Once they reached the Marshes of Forgetfulness she was stripped of all her jewels, made to sit in a small boat and the boat was pushed away. At that very moment the Mist of Lost Memories begin to form on the surface of the marshes. Many screamed with fear as they swore they saw a claw reaching out for them through the mist. The sun was setting and the forest took on an eerie red hue. The entire forest seemed to bleed. A shrill scream rang through the forest and all ran as fast as their legs would carry them.

A Walk in the Woods

Gretel looked around at the mist, it seemed to say something to her, something she couldn't decipher. The boat was drifting aimlessly in the marshes. She was careful enough to not touch the water. Suddenly she heard a shrill scream, it had a familiar ring to it.

"Hensel!"

She suddenly stood up to look for him and the boat begin to rock. She sat down again, her heart beating wildly as she frantically looked around. Suddenly she felt the boat jerk. It started to move in a particular direction, the direction where the mist was much more dense. The thought of a monster in the marshes reeling her in ran through her mind. She wondered if it would be a good idea to jump into the marshes. The mist grew heavy and she found it even more difficult to breathe. The boat begin to move faster and faster and then...

THUD!

It suddenly stopped. Gretel closed her eyes tight, afraid to see.

"Gretel. Gretel"

She thought she heard someone call her name. The voice seemed familiar. She opened her eyes.

"Hensel..." she jumped in joy the moment she saw him, almost falling into the marshes. In fact would have if Hensel hadn't caught her arm.

"Be careful girl. If you fall in there you won't remember anything, not even me."

"I was so afraid, I thought you'd never come"

"I had to, promised you I would, didn't I?"

Gretel smiled at those words. Hensel wound the rope he had tied to the boat when no one was looking.

"Now, how do we go back?" asked Gretel.

"Easy. When we were coming to the forest, I made a trail of silver coins so that we could find our way back." He noticed the questioning look on her face and said, "Silver shines brightly in moonlight, that’s why."

So they started to walk around the marshes. Every now and then some wolf howled in the distance. Every now and then Gretel held on to Hensel's arm, nails digging deep. The marshes and the mist and the dark forest suddenly seemed very beautiful in the moonlight. The mist shone like silver and looked as if the marshes held a silver moon within them, was beautiful. They found a spot under the trees, decked up a bed of leaves and lay on their backs, staring at the sky. Soon they fell asleep. A pair of eyes watched them.

Hensel, The Forgotten

"Hensel. HENSEL!"

Hensel slowly opened his eyes. A scared Gretel stared back at her, fear all over her face.

"We must leave now, there is... something."

Hensel got up on his elbows, ears straining to hear. A faint rustle of the leaves, a cold rush of the wind and then...

"What was that? Rustle of wings? What is it? Some beast?"

A pair of glowing red eyes shone in the distance, then another and another.

"Wolves. RUN!"

They both started to run. The wolves followed them. Gretel turned to... "DONT LOOK BACK. Keep running." screamed Hensel. He stopped and turned around to face the wolves. A couple of them ran past him. The rest stopped. He reached for the ground and picked up a thick branch. The wolves started to circle him. The silver mist went back to the depths of marshes as the moon covered its eyes with a dark cloud. Another pair of eyes watched from above, silently.

Meanwhile Gretel kept running till she couldn't hear the wolves follow her. She stopped to catch her breath. Sun was about to rise. Gretel looked towards the horizon and could see Hensel's house and a pigeon perched on the roof.

"Somebody help." She ran towards the house. First rays of sun swept through Everafter, first rays of a new beginning.

The woodcutter came out the moment he heard Gretel's voice. Soon others also came running.

"Somebody help. He's in there, wolves are after him. Somebody has to save him."

"Save who?" asked the woodcutter.

"Save He.." Gretel felt a severe pain in her head as she tried to say his name. "Your son."

"Gretel, I have no son." the woodcutter laughed, so did others.

"No you do, his name is..." No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't remember his name. Her head throbbed with a severe pain everytime she tried to remember. Everything around her seemed to go dark, last thing she heard in her head was a distant echo of someone calling out her name, a voice that once sounded so familiar.

Gretel slept through the whole day and night. Villagers kept coming to check on her, she was always everyone's favourite. Cinderella brought pumpkin pudding, Rapunzel a scarf woven from her own silver hair and Snow White brought the magic mirror for her. All others also brought gifts for her.

Next morning when first rays of sun shone on her window, Gretel woke up. She had a vague memory of a dream she had last night. It was of a boy she couldn't recall name or even face of, though he had a very familiar ring to him. And when she tried to remember, she felt severe pain in her head.

From that day onwards prosperity returned to Everafter and all lived very happily. All but one. Gretel. From that day onwards she started to have dreams that won't let her rest. Every time she stared towards the forest she felt a voice call out to her. A voice that gnawed at her mind, a memory she couldn't place, that won't let her rest and be happy.

And she was lonely in Everafter.

*****

I wish I could tell you more, but this is where the story pauses for now. I know you have many questions, but only Gretel can find the answers. So we will have to wait, till she finds the courage to walk into the forest and search for them. Am waiting for the day she would find the courage and come to me. The day she does, you too would know. Till then, I wait and hope. And that's all you can do...

Wait and hope, and pray. Pray that she may find her Hensel, and live with him happily in Everafter.

[to be concluded in - Gretel... Remembers]

The Dark Angel, His Promise

The Dark Angel
II
His Promise

[ finale to The Dark Angel, Her Prayer ]

Give me a few dreams
without the shadows
or stifled screams
touch of tears in eyes forlorn
hollow laughter
innocence to mourn

No, these may not be her words. But these are the words that I see as I look around the walls within me, the walls that once held that lil girl. The graffiti on the walls by a lil girl clawing for an escape, an escape that almost never came.

*******

That day she was severely 'punished' for running away. She couldn't walk for next few days. Every night she sat by the window in her room, staring out into the dark forest, silently. The chilly winds reminded her of his touch and whipping of his wings. Many a times she thought she saw him rise in the night sky to catch a glimpse of her. The sudden warmth around her told her it was really him. It was only then she could go to sleep, to be woken up by nightmares. And then again she stared out towards the dark forest till she felt that warmth again, and went to sleep, again.

The day she was fit to walk again she waited for sun to set. And the moment sky turned black she slipped into the backyard. Just like that day she was aware of 'them' following her. Just like that day she ran towards the perimeter wall and went down on her knees and elbows as she made her way out through a small hole in the wall. Just like that day, she got up, brushed dust off her baby pink pyjamas and started to run again. She kept running till she could hear nothing but her own heavy breathing and a stray cricket here and there. And just like that day, she ran into the pack of wolves.

But this time 'they' were prepared, they had torches with them. The wolves of the forest versus the wolves of the civilised world. The forest wolves had no chance, they weren't savage enough. With wolves gone 'they' turned towards her, grotesque smiles in the shadows of flickering torchlight. She screamed, turned to run but tripped on a stone and fell on her head. She passed out. One of 'them' stepped towards her.

Swoosh!

One instant he was there, next he was gone. Others exchanged glances, waved torches to scare away an invisible enemy that wasn't there. An extinguished torch fell amongst them, a headless torso followed. The predator turned to prey and huddled close to each other.

Swoosh! Swoosh!

A rush of air blew out all the torches. They looked around. The hair at back of their necks stood up. Ice-cold air filled up their lungs and pinned them down to their stomachs. And then, night descended amongst them. Their hair were blown by the sudden rush of wind as he spread his wings. They couldn't see his face underneath long black hair but could make out his head was bent. They died a thousand deaths from one heartbeat to another before he took a deep breath and slowly looked up at them. All they could see were a pair of fiery red eyes, literally glowing with fire.

"Boo".

And they all ran away, falling over each other.

He turned towards her and lifted her gently in her arms. He ran his clawed hand gently over her forehead, her wound disappeared as black blood oozed from his forehead. He started to sing a melancholic lullaby, the only kind he knew, to wake her up. The wolves of the forest returned and sat in a circle around them, mesmerised, along with other animals of the woods.

She stirred in her arms and slowly opened her eyes. He smiled, surprised that he still knew how to smile. The wolves howled in joy. She threw her tiny arms around him and hugged him tight. Suddenly the wolves became very quiet, something was wrong. They all turned towards the edge of the forest. Dozens of torches coming their way.

"You must leave now." he said to her. She whined and cried but finally relented. She started to run towards the orphanage, careful to avoid the mob. She was almost at the edge of the forest when she heard a wolf howl. She could see a fire in the distance, a fire that was growing at a rapid pace. Soon she saw the mob running towards her. She got out of its way. The mob ran out of the forest, screaming. The forest was on fire.

"The light burns my wings" His words echoed in her ears. She looked at eastern sky, sun was about to rise, already the horizon was a deep shade of red. She ran towards the center of the forest, where she had left him, or so she thought.

There were blazing fires all around. Before she knew she was surrounded by fire, but she wasn't concerned about herself. A wolf writhed in agony as it got caught in flames. She looked around to find huge trees on fire all around her, and one of them falling towards her. She screamed and closed her eyes. It all went dark. She never felt a thing again.

Burn my soul
washaway their sins
make me new
just like you

Hold my hand
take me to a dream
of you and me
where we are free
Free to laugh,
free to cry
Free of joy,
free of pain
Free to die
and live again

The dark angel took her in his embrace, his wings all around her. The burning tree landed on his back. Soon fiery remains of other trees also rained fire on his wings. His hair caught fire, revealing the scarred face underneath. But the fireballs just bounced off his wings. So he stood, holding her in his arms, his wings around her till final remnants of fire prepared for the last sigh. Entire forest was reduced to ash and in middle of the smoldering ruins stood an ashen angel with lil girl in his arms.

Finally the wings moved, the ash fell off his back and he stood tall. He took a long look at her... Fortunate Asleep. He looked at the skies, first rays of sun were streaming across the sky. With the forest gone, there was no place to hide for him. And he had no more reason to hide. Clouds of ash went up in air as he flapped his wings once, twice and again and again.

Slowly he rose into the air, holding her close. As a sunbeam caught his wing and burnt a hole in it, he kissed her forehead. As he rose further his wings caught fire, yet he continued to rise with her. Soon his wings were on fire, wings of fire. The black angel turned to fire, a fire that got brighter and brighter. Soon he was white as light and so was she, a light so white that sun looked like a pale shadow of its usual bright self. And then, suddenly the light went out. There was nothing in the sky, a vanilla sky. Sun slowly regained its color. Life went on.

The little girl was gone, taken by her dark angel, never to return. In the middle of the ashen wasteland lay a woman born in the scarred body of a little girl.

*******

This is the story of the lil girl I once was, story of her end and my beginning. I am nothing but ashen remains of sins wrought upon her, my life is nothing but a penance for her. Do I miss her? Do I wish she was still around? Definitely not. Only reason I am able to sleep in the morning is the knowledge that she still lives, in a world made for her, in the only world fit enough for her. But I do wish to be that little girl, again.

So I put myself in front of wolves every night, for them to feast on my flesh and bone. Every time they rip a chunk off me, it feels like a step closer to that lil girl. I don't cry, I don't scream but I do pray and this is my prayer...

Burn my soul
washaway their sins
make me new
just like you

Hold my hand
take me to a dream
of you and me
where we are free
Free to laugh,
free to cry
Free of joy,
free of pain
Free to die
and live again

Hope sustains life, and I hope the Dark Angel remembers his promise, once again.

[ The End ]