Whilst sipping tea from my favourite lavender colored mug, I sat cross legged on a comfortable armchair, positioned towards the left in our medium sized lobby. The atmosphere, pregnant with silence, oscillated in waves only to light music playing on the vinyl inside the wooden case. A transparent pane stood overlooking the deck affixed on an endless expanse of yellow-brown sand, which was a colour of asphalt, with shadows of heavy ethereal clouds looming all over the sky. It was a full moon basking under cotton holding moisture that slid its luminosity through the window aperture. The wind, although not boisterous, made its motion noticed; rapping lightly on the parapet fence, it danced against the golden silk drapes that hung down from the ceiling, touching the mosaic floor of the room. It was a serene partially lit dusk on a fall-winter break. Let alone the pitter-patter of raindrops, the waves danced to an eerie sombre. Eyes closed, I wished to slowly cross into oblivion. I could hear fire sputter in the earthen – its blaze illuminating the trail of darkness left behind by the setting sun.
I could feel the gentle drizzle of rain, tapping the glass partition gently. Every drop that alighted on the glass window, accelerated downwards, carrying tiny other droplets on its way – a heavenly chase, so unlike mine. Ochre and orange glare from the fire intermingled with crystal like drops seemed to ornate the room with a tinge of warmth and hygge. Pots of red roses lined up on the deck’s platform, had a pitch black hue as there was not a single ray to reflect. There followed a different train of thoughts if the rose was in soothing red or every color except red. Submerged in correct proportions of light and dim, I could feel my otherwise palpitating heart, come to rest for a while. The task at hand was to disentangle all that sheltered in me over the past six months. Before I bottled them, I had to unfold its core piece by piece.
I could feel the hush in the surroundings settle in my mind, displacing the chaos that wreathed stronger with every visit to the white building – usually associated with peace, the white could stir my interiors into a roaring hurricane. My ears could finally shut themselves to the constant wailing of ambulance sirens and beeping monitors that had their wires plugged in my skull, chest and fingers. I wished to sever all cables for once, and culture the air that my lungs could breathe with their innate capacity. Alas, the stethoscopes wound around Dr. Saberwal’s neck, suggested otherwise. To put across in simpler words, my lungs had grown a set of their worse cells that were gaining grounds rapidly, triumphing over the good ones. The bad ones, supposedly had potential enough to subsume the little air my air bags managed to soak from their vicinity.
It had been six long months and I was supposed to have made truce with the deteriorating condition of my lungs. The sun that dropped below the horizon every dusk left behind the remorse of a day less on my calendar of life hanging loosely on the concrete wall of impending death.
When all doors of escape seemed to have closed, this little cottage by the beach side was my last resort. The numbness around amplified my drowning heartbeat for me to overhear. My heart’s beat was undoubtedly the best music I had heard in a long while; Lubb – Dup sounds that took alternative turns, made me realize its prowess to have embedded music in humans in its untainted mold. I wished to savor its tune while I still had the privilege to.
Stars that lay partially hidden under the clouds hovering the firmament, crooned their hymn in motherly softness. They were a choir singing of courage and valour. I hoped to mirror similar stardust on my soul to breathe till the moment it could and win this untimely battle.
For waves that ebbed and flowed, did roar when rushing towards the shore and receded in discreet. The raindrops that hugged the ocean appeared evidently happy in cheerful unison with their source.
Om- the mantra of the universe which the sun echoed resonated with my inner self, as if trying to produce divine reverberations to convey a message- “I never die. Half the earth moves into darkness each evening.”
Hearing so, I realised my livid fear of death wasn’t existent; the zeal to fight was. For as long as I lived, it was certain the sun’s resilience would pulsate in me. A big bang created the both of us, and shall sustain us too.
An eighteen year old, who has a never give-up spirit in her heart and stardust in her soul, pens nature on paper to keep her mind rejuvenated and alive. She is a listed compiler with the anthology “The Thoughts Twine”. She is a trained dancer in Odissi and swimming is her favourite sport.