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 Eternal Casanova aka Dorian Black

The Eternal Casanova

Inspired by a Neil Gaimen short story.

***

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
From the shadows darkness creeps
And I have promises to keep,
But years to go before I sleep,
years to go before It sleeps...

Clickety-clack. Clickety-clack. Clickety-clack.

That's all one could hear, if there was anyone around. And if one were to strain their ears, they could also hear the soft rustling in the grass and the hushed panting of a small pup and a little girl. They were following a little boy along the grassy path in the woods.

Clickety-clack... the sound of a wooden spoon hitting the wooden cart-wheel was hushed by the dense growth of proud trees around the barely trodden forest path. Lots of bad things, dark but not so unimaginable, could happen to young and the innocent ones in these deeper woods, where even fiercest of forest creatures feared to tread. And they would, but not now. For now, a fate far worse than your imagination can conjure right now awaited them.

*******

"Will you come with me?"

And my heart skips a beat. Here he is, standing at the ledge on the window of my first storey bedroom, asking me to come away with him for a night I'll never forget. I think of my doting father as his snores fill my ears like a lullaby and my heart aches with the anguish he would feel if he were to know. I think of my caring mother, whose only dream in life is to see me happily married with half a dozen kids. I think of my younger sister, and what sort of example I might be setting for her. I think of my younger twin brothers... and it makes me smile, for they're angels and too young to even grasp what my going might mean. But most of all, I think of The Dark Spectre, the serial killer who has been stalking and killing young maidens all over countryside. In fact, if it hadn't been for his dark shadow, I'd be still out with my friends, instead of being held prisoner in my own house the moment the sun set, like all other friends of mine.

And then I look at him, his face reflecting the silver majesty of the moonlight. This is what Narcissus must be if he weren't in love with his own reflection. There is something about him, certain ageless eternal mystique that makes one feel as if in presence of Adonis himself, as if cupid is his personal guardian angel. For me, like every other maiden in village, it was love at first sight. The sort of love that makes you go weak in knees, the sort of love that makes you pray to God to kill the ironsmith's daughter because his eyes shine their light on her face, and the sort of love that helps you not feel too guilty when the ironsmith's daughter vanished without a trace... another victim of The Dark Spectre. The sort of love that makes you throw caution to wind and say...

"Yes."

I hold his hand as he helps me out of window on to the ledge. We jump to land softly on the bed of hay he had prepared to soften the landing. He knew I would come. But escape has just started. Most of young men of village will be out patrolling, imposing the edict that barred all young ones, especially women, to wander out of their houses after sunset. And the patrolling would be even tougher around the edge of the forest, where we are going.

Soon I discover, there is more to him than just his obscenely good looks and charming ways. He has the immense fortune of the Gods. We didn't encounter a single guard on our way to the edge of the forest. It was much easier than I ever thought it would ever be. But once we reached edge of the forest, he got very cautious, very aware of every sound. All the victims of The Dark Spectre had disappeared around the forest. The dense forest coupled with superstitious ghost stories made for the perfect hiding place, no one would dare enter the forests, even during day. No one but him. And I am smitten by him enough to follow him to the end of world, more so when he promises me a night I'll never forget. He holds my hand and steps into the shadows. Like a cold blanket, darkness engulfs us and my nails dig deep into his palm. He doesn't make a sound.



"How much further...” I ask half an hour later. I can hardly see anything, just being led by him.

"Hush...” he says.

"I can't walk anymore." I whispered.

"We're almost there." he says as I feel a snake rustling nearby. A full moon drives silver swords through the dark canopy. I clutch his arm as if my life depended on it. His fingers hug mine, assuring me. Up ahead I can see some light. He lets me go and runs upto it. I follow.

"And lord said, let there be light..." he turns and smiles at me as I step into the silver moonlight.

A silver oasis in the middle of the black desert. The ground seems to be studded with stardust, reflecting the moonlight in myriad hues and shades.

"It's so..."

"I know."

"I'm..."

"Shh...” he puts a finger to my lips and stares into my eyes. My knees give away me and his arms stop me from hitting the ground. A rustling sound in the bushes brings back fear to my eyes.

"Don't be scared, no creature of the forest comes here."

"How do you know?"

"I know..." his eyes read the disbelief in my eyes, "...because my grandpa told me a story. Would you like to listen to a good story?"

I smile. He goes on to tell me the story of the young boy, young girl and their scared little pup.

*******

Clickety-clack. Clickety-clack. Clickety-clack.

That's all one could hear, if there was anyone around. And if one were to strain their ears, they could also hear the soft rustling in the grass and the hushed panting of a small pup and a little girl. They were following a little boy along the grassy path in the woods.

Clickety-clack... the sound of a wooden spoon hitting the wooden cart-wheel was hushed by the dense growth of proud trees around the barely trodden forest path. Lots of bad things, dark but not so unimaginable, could happen to young and the innocent ones in these deeper woods, where even fiercest of forest creatures feared to tread. And they would, but not now. For now, a fate far worse than your imagination can conjure right now awaited them.

Thump!!!

The boy fell on the ground, face first, unharmed by thick grass that covered the path. The boy's neck strained upwards, sun shone in his eyes till the rolling wheel blocked it out. The wheel seemed to stand still for a moment, like a black pillar protecting the kid from the blinding sun, wobbled a bit and then rolled down a slope towards its right into the swamp, as if it had a mind of its own, a mind that couldn't refuse the calling of a power that can only be felt, never seen. The pup stopped a few paces ahead, stared back at the kid and then followed the wheel, following his expectant stares.

A dark shadow fell on the boy's face as a cloud took the sun in its embrace. The earth returned the echo of kid's own thumping heart. In the distance, the pup whimpered, calling out to its young masters. Without a moment's hesitation, the girl went after the pup. The kid got up and stared into the direction where the cartwheel had gone, followed by the pup and then the girl. Suddenly the pup went silent, too silent a bit too suddenly. Shadow of fear streaked across kid's face. He called out for the little girl. No reply. Finally, in a moment of bravery known only to the innocent, the boy limped down the slope, eyes ever so wary of what they might discover once into the deep dark woods. Suddenly the pup shot out of the thicket and ran back the path they had come, stopped and turned back to look at his master, wondering if he would too return, imploring him to not go in there, and when was sure he wouldn't, let out a scared little whimper and ran back to the village.

The boy was all alone now. The forest suddenly felt alive, like phantom of a werewolf breathing down his neck. The hair on the back of his neck braced themselves as if swords ready to battle the unseen enemy. From within the gap in the trees he caught a faint glimpse of the cartwheel, dirty and covered in... something. Now he could hear the faint sobbing of the little girl too. His eyes followed the 'path' carved by the cartwheel and could see a clearing, the cartwheel and the little girl... but there was something more. Something that made the little boy scream. And he would never scream again.

*******

A long thin shadow cuts across the moon, cleaving it in two. But moon fights back and casts it away, both its halves coming together again. Our fingers intertwine and I am pulled out of my reverie

I am breathing very heavily now. Fear. A very strong sense of fear has gripped me, a grip far stronger than I've ever felt. Fear, a very primal emotion that takes hold of all other senses, an emotion so basic and all encompassing that it has no rival... save for one.

I let out a soft gasp as his cold hand crawl up my leg. A draft of cold breeze precedes his hands and makes my eyes search for my drawers which I don't remember removing. I also become aware of a warmer hand resting softly on my bosom. The snugness and the comfort suggests it has been there for quite a while. His warm breath on my neck, cold nose touching every now and then, teasing. His curls brushing my cheeks in long soft strokes like a master painter. His lips tethered at the edge of mine, breathing life into me.

"No." I clench my legs tight as his hand tries to find its way past my thighs. He pulls his hand back a little and leans in to kiss me.

I feel fire in my mouth, setting ablaze my face, raging fury spreading all across my being. My legs ease up a little, his fingers start moving again.

"No" I try to resist, eyes tightly shut. My breathing gets harder.

Suddenly he pushes his hand upwards with a gentle force and a cold fire flows up my spine. I still try to put up the pretense of chastity.

He pulls back from the kiss. I open my eyes, he is smiling. "No", I say it again. He has a look on his face that questions my refusal. He holds up his right hand, gleaming in moonlight and says "You're wet." I blush and bury my face in my hands, and wait for him.

I hear a faint rustle of the leaves. I open my eyes, he is wiping his hand in the ground. He gets up, his body a shining marble statue of a Greek hero. He turns around to face me. Another shadow comes across the moon. His face looks different... tired, old and years of pain carve tales across his face. But most of all, his eyes, suddenly look so pale.

"I'm sorry..." he says as a moon peeks from behind the clouds for one last time, casting a silver blade across his right eye. The shadow soon takes over and he is again plunged into darkness as he steps back, only his scared pale eyes visible in the shadows. With that the light in his eyes go out. A moment later his voice...

"You can scream if you wish to."

*******

Your fingers are wet. Finally. You feel the cold breeze on them, breeze that carries the smell to the woods. You bury the fingers in the ground. The ground seems to throb around them, as if sucking on them. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears and you know its not just your heart. It's coming.

You get up and stand away from her. Even after all these years, this is the toughest part, but you owe it to her. You turn around and say "I'm sorry". You can feel the ground shake beneath your feet. It's coming. You look at her, confused and stared. And once again you find yourself staring at that little girl buried waist deep in the swamp ages ago. And you can feel the roots coming out of the ground, ready to grab her. You step back into the shadows.

"You can scream if you wish to."

And then It comes. Long wooden tentacles wrap themselves around her waist, her bosom, her face and feet. It grabs her and begins to pull her into the ground, which opens up like a yawning crater, rather a hungry mouth, for that's what it is. She screams, for one final time. You... you screamed only once years ago, never after that. It takes her and soon you are left staring at an empty abyss staring back at you. You can feel the burden of all those years, wondering if you made the right choice that day, when you chose to live. Won't death be a better fate than this?

Maybe It heard your thoughts, for a streak of lightening leaps at you from the blackness, lifting you above the ground. You see the faces of all those girls, every single one of them. When it's over, you fall on the ground, on your fours. You feel alive again. You stare into the abyss, you can feel It staring back at you, smiling. It knows.

You start walking back to the village. You will not age for another nine months. If you hadn't been so scared early on, you'd still be the nine year old kid you were centuries ago. But twenty works better, easy to find prey for It, for you. As you make your way back to the village, you don't worry about anyone finding out, they never will, not been able to for so many years, for shadows are yours to command, foot soldiers for It.

Only thing on your mind, is a dilemma...


"Should I go for the pastor's daughter, or the blacksmith's?"

[ The End ]

Tales of a Mirror

Tales of a Mirror

Okay, I lied a lil bit. Although I am a mirror, but most of the story is of days when I was just an ordinary glass. Where should I start from? Lets start from the very beginning.

Once upon a time long ago before time came into being there was... wait. That would take forever so better start from more recent past. I know what you are thinking right now, that I suffer from delusions of grandeur to start off my story in such a grand style as if it was the single most event in the history of time itself. I know it sounds like I was gonna tell story of origin of universe. Well, I'd let you be the judge of that by the time you end the story. So, lets begin from beginning... errr.. not of universe, but mine.

My first memory as a young boy is of being whipped up by sandstorms, high up into air and taken great distances in the vastness of ancient Egyptian desert. I used to love taking bath in the eyes of travellers who made the mistake of shutting their eyes just a wee bit late trying to see through the sandstorm. Some may call it a brave thing to do, but I know it is sheer stupidity. And desert doesn’t like that, he takes it as a personal disrespect for his powers. Anyhow, am digressing here. So, I had been whipped about in desert for far too long when one day a glass-maker scooped up all of me, along with many of my other friends. He took us to his foundry and within a day I was forged into a strong sturdy sheet of glass.

By then I had grown up into a sturdy teenager and times of pharaohs and kingdoms had come to pass. Now it was time of great cities and miracles of modern science. I was put up in a high end shop that sold clothes and accessories for those looking for excuses to spend money. And it is in this shop that the story I want to tell you truly began.

I was just a glass window, big one, but still a glass window. I was all that kept curious onlookers and passer-bys from touching the elegantly or grotesquely dressed mannequins. Many times a few would stand and stare inside the store. It would make me feel so good. I would really feel as if they were staring at me, fascinated by me. I knew they weren't interested in me, only in what I kept away from them, yet, those were the only times I would "feel". A rare few, ensnared by the display would dreamily touch me, as if in a trance. And the touch would send me into a trance too. Suddenly a whole new world would be opened to me. The sensation of touch. I would feel the warmth of steamy tongue that had licked curry off the fingers. I would smell the fresh nail polish on nails which had just come out of a manicure. I would feel the pulse of the heart doing a 120 at the sight of shimmering black dress and the pearl necklace that the mannequin wore. I could see the starry dreams in pearly eyes. And I could feel the longing beat in the hearts, and for that fleeting moment, felt its echo in mine.

An ephemeral fleeting moment, but it made my entire life seem like a smaller moment.

And there was another set of dreamers too. Just passing by, they would casually catch a faint glimpse of themselves in me. They would suddenly stop, as they saw a dream of theirs come alive in me. A woman with two kids would stand and stare longingly at her reflection, the pearl necklace on the mannequin fitting her reflection perfectly. A melancholic hand traced the pearl necklace on an empty neck, but not in the reflection. Only she and I saw her, wearing that necklace. In that moment we could see her the way she once used to be, young and beautiful. And in that moment I could see into her heart, a longing to be young and beautiful again so that her husband would spend more time with her. A fear, a sure fear that he was seeing someone else. A tear rising from deep within her chest, preparing to dive from the precipice of her eyes, only to be denied by the vehement cries of the younger one who had just spotted the latest Pokemon on display in a toy store.

There were many other clones of that woman, different nameless faces, different characters but at the core, same stories. A cool dude with a hot girl hanging by his arm wondering if she knows he is two timing her and scared she might be sleeping with his brother. A high shot executive wondering if he will be able to afford the expensive suits if his fraud is discovered. Shiny happy people with shiny happy faces. Never liked them. Since they saw themselves in me, in those moments I saw myself as them.

But all were not that bad. I have to tell you about the little flower girl, I called her rag princess. She used to sell flowers on the shopping street. Every night, when all lights in store would be out, she would sit by the streetlight. With lights in the shop all put out, I would be more of a mirror than glass. She would see her clear reflection, I would see me as her, more clearly than anyone else at any other time. And somehow feel it had nothing to do with the science of light.

It was in those moments I would be this beautiful rainbow princess. Her patchwork tattered skirt would become shimmering robe of seven colored light. Her matted dirty hair would become a crown of golden honeydew. Her starved watery eyes would turn into the most beautiful diamonds you'd ever see, so beautiful that they made the ones on the mannequin look like dull lifeless stones. And she loved to see herself as the rainbow princess. She would smile and laugh at what she saw, and would then go to sleep, an empty stomach filled with joy.

But no matter how loved I seeing the rainbow princess, my solitary source of joy in a rented existence, I yearned to see me. Yearned for someone who would neither see through me, nor see themselves in me. A hopeless dream as fragile as me. All other glass windows laughed and mocked me.

"A glass window who wants to see himself. What next, a block of cheese who wants to taste himself?"

"What is there to see? You are nothing, like us."

"Its what lies beyond you that makes you, you. And the reflection in you is what you are." said a mirror on the antique shop. When she spoke, all nodded their heads silently. Apparently she had come from Greece. Her were the words that I agreed with most, yet, there was a restlessness that I knew would shatter me one day. And it did.

I was still asleep when it hit me, a brick. My upper half had a huge hole in the middle. The spider-web cracks were spreading further. Couldn't see much, but all I saw was hordes of man brandishing swords, rioting. One of them picked the screaming shrieking rag princess, poured kerosene on her and set her on fire.

I shattered into a thousand pieces.

*******

Sorry for the long pause, memory of my rainbow girl, my most beautiful dream, always gets me melancholic. Relax, its not the end, it would be too dark an ending to my story. Besides, I have yet to justify the title and the grand beginning I almost gave.

I woke up, don't know how many days later, in a storehouse [didn't know it then, would find that out much later]. I felt renewed and different. Looks like all the glass on the shopping street had been disposed off in the best way a glass would want to be, taken to a glass factory. And I had been re-forged into a mirror. I looked around.

Could see nothing anywhere, yet my heart beat the way it had never before. A certain anticipation the like of which I had never felt throbbed every cell of my existence. I looked around again, could see nothing. Nothing not as in dark, no, it was well lit. Yet could see nothing. Suddenly I heard a sound and a nut fell right in front of me. And I saw the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen.

Million and million of nuts that went forever, each a perfect replica of the first one, extending into infinity, each moving in perfect unison. And then came a squirrel and it picked up the nut. It stared at me and blinked. The images of squirrel and her back alternately extended into the infinity in front of me. And I could feel a similar one extend into me. Was the it my eternity being reflected, or I a reflection of infinity?

The squirrel left, not before its tail brushed me and tipped me slightly forward. I expected to fall but suddenly hit something. Clanking of glasses, humans would call it. But to me it was the distinct groan of a female mirror. And then I realised the truth.

The mirror in antique shop had once mentioned it to me. I was once again staring at nothingness. But it wasn't so. The nothingness was me, and her. Yeah, another mirror was standing right parallel to me. We both were nothing, yet everything. We both extending till eternity into each other. Each reflection a universe, universes extending from infinity to infinity. No one could tell where it started from and where it ended, only where lay its exact middle. The point where our foreheads touched.

The point where her and my eternity took a breather, before they started on another journey to forever into each other.

Two eternities, intertwined, from forever, to forever.

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