She calls me Zeba

I lay on the prickly brown-green grass, reading a book. I have a lot of time here, in this dream. This little town in the lap of mountains, pampers me. I feel like a baby again in possession of peace and happiness. I don’t worry about the bills, the job, the monies, the false friends and even the repercussions of being ‘myself’ with a kin. I am far away from all that – I’m with happiness here.

It’s a cold day. The sun doesn’t let me out of its sight even for a second. My fingers are cold and pale. I turn them carefully with my numb fingers – the old, fragile brown pages of the old book. I love its smell.

Not very far from me, is a small hut, smoke escaping its top and floating in white unshapely globs. The clear blue sky looks a shade lighter through them – I like that shade. I remember the cotton candy and hallucinate of a sweet taste. The fire should to be kept alive all day long. I love this house – it is warm and cozy even on the coldest day. It is very small though.

A very kind old lady owns the pretty house and I adore her. She has allowed me to stay in there. We don’t speak each others language and communicate in signs and smiles. I don’t know her name, she never tells me, I call her khala. She never asked my name but she calls me Zeba.

village

(Image: Google images)

Stories of the dark seas

The seashore was silent under the grey sky. Cool breeze blew in the waning moon’s light. The waves splashed and created a rhythm – perfect for the time. They lapped playfully against the shore as they did each night. The shore was oblivious of the dark secrets they were clutching that were buried deep in their chest.

Somewhere in the middle of nowhere, a lone sailor sailed, unaware. Listening to the soft music and thinking about his beautiful wife. The night was perfect & he missed her. He hated to part but it was for their good. He promised to back as soon as he could.

As if lurking around and waiting for someone, the waves became stronger when the sailor arrived. He was brave and knew the seas too well – or at least he thought so. The scene was about to unfold and the skies above were soon to witness the changing avatar of the seas, again. The waves now lashed harder, visiting and re-visiting the cold sands on the shore; joined by its invisible partner – gusty, whistling & roaring. The seas became cruel and monstrous; the sailor trembled with fear. Scary thoughts of death replaced the beautiful thoughts of his wife. But he decided to fight back, to survive, to keep the promise made… to return to her.

They smiled, rose high & fell, weaving huge crests and troughs. Sensing the resistance of the sailor they became even more ferocious and determined. He was in their territory, they were unforgiving… they were hungry. He fought – they laughed. He gripped – they pushed. He struggled – they hauled. He tried hard… harder – they won! They leapt at him hungrily, swallowing his ship, devouring him. And alas! A giant wave pulled him to the sea floor. The only witness was the silent sky – pallid and mute, watching the drama from afar.

The dark seas calmed down after the midnight feast. Traces on the cold sand ashore were wiped clean. The waves lapped on the shore playfully, rhythmically – again. The unrest settled; the turmoil waned off when the horizon shone in orange hues.

The dark seas – not dark anymore, wear the familiar face – calm, gentle and friendly once more. But don’t forget about another dark secret it just buried somewhere deep – inside you.

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Image credit: BKhook http://shadowness.com/BKhook/stormy-seas