Fears of Flamingo Flames

 

One moment of brilliant flashes like lightening and I was burning, burning with fury and rage. I was mad, so mad at him that if looks could kill, he would be ten fathoms deep buried under the earth beneath rotten and decayed dust and compost. I stared at the mirror to see an ugly demon stare back at me, spiky hair like  mass and spikes like on hedgehogs all over me ,skin with boils and bubbles yellow and red, blue green mass of jealousy and horridness...yuckiest ugliest ever seen.

 

I remember the sugar coated words that dripped honey.  He sold me the tested and age old recipe of irresistible chocolate like heart beat raising, feel-good- warming, beautiful and mesmerizing  endless Love. THE ONE AND ONLY FORMULA to elate you to the altars of heaven.

 

Yes, it had created a unique consciousness in me that would make me a laughing stock of the whole world tomorrow...or worse today itself. Why is it that I feel like rolling with laughter at my audacity and yet reduced to sighing in misery.

 

My anger boiled up again beyond the boiling point to scalding limits and then to killing 100% first degree burns. The brilliant emanating flames of red blue fury that drowns you when you feel you are jilted, cheated and used.

 

Somehow I felt piercing giggles and sniggering pointed fingers behind my back from unknown sources. Weird! I could perceive all those signs and omens despite nothing tangibly visible.

 

I will wait like the young lioness on prowl, open to play, yet on vigil, my Anger will vent...fuming flamingoes flare in fiery…

 

***

Mia wrote that in her windy wild free horse adorned bound note book.  Mia was an ordinary girl, wide eyes covered with horn rimmed spectacles, beautiful smile covered by single braces, and a wonderful gift of gab garbed in the cloak of invisibility.

 

And she loved being that way. Unknown  and obscure. Being in limelight was never really like her.

 

Being a 15 year old was not really easy, you know. Juggling classwork and homework. Juggling social life and domestic life.

 

But Mia was always ok. She did not think it cool to conform with social etiquette and magnitude. To be nice and cool and conforming. Nice and Cool was ok for her….Confirming-to was a big NO  NO.

 

The fact being  Mia was a very kind and levelheaded girl, unlike the many zany teenagers of her age. Too mature for too young an age, kind of girl. And too candid for too mature an age, kind of girl.

 

Contradicting Convictions.

Confused Intelligence.

 

Yes, that was Mia for you.

 

***

 

Sometimes fear is my biggest enemy. It comes like a huge and consuming monster with jaws wide open and claws razing sharp. The head weighs down and the load it burdens becomes unbearable. Breath comes in puffy gasps and mind gets clouded. Nothing seems to be clear or perceivable.

 

Every foot step seems perilous and hesitant.

 

Then it disappears like a cloud. Suddenly you find that there was nothing to be fearful of except fear itself. Most of the times the fear of a certain factor would have maimed and tainted us to extents irretraceable.

 

And then everything just dies down. No signs of a premonition or no fear to face. Period

 

Relief floods.

 

***

Mia was a bright and robust girl, someone like the Amelia in ‘Princess Diaries’. She had unique artistic streaks of beauty in her, in her own imaginative style. A  different stroke. And she was very intelligent, so much so that her uncanny instincts protected her from all wannabe evils. Maybe it’s the little magic troll she carried in her back pouch, she pondered. But trolls were believed to be evil creatures, stealing babies and food and kidnapping and imprisoning humans within their forest clumps. But Mia’s Magic Troll was lucky, only for her.

 

She wished to be a cool kid, like Emily and Jane and Judy, the kinds that appealed to boyzzz, especially the cute dark hunky of the head boy. She wanted him to notice her, perhaps give her a drive in his red cool Ferrari. But looking around at the 200 something queue of gorgeous girls swooning in his line, she backed out…wisely so…laughing amused and wickedly nattering with her coolest buddy Olivia.

 

Olivia’s temperament suited Mia perfectly like bread and hazel nut chocolate spread…Delicious..Irresistable. They made perfect friends of level headed cool jazzy immense friendship.

 

Mia’s diary was not something that was presented to her by her Royal father from Genovia. She had bought it for herself from the magnificent stores of Landmark. With the picture of a wild windy free white horse in a fleeting pose on a background of gray and white. Mia imagined herself to be both the Queen and the Princess too…Elegant and Magnificent like a Queen character and Cool and Invisible like a Princess’ character.

 

Mia’s diary stood evidence to the many affairs in her life. Love affairs, sad state of affairs, heartbreaking affairs of morbid relatives, treacherous affairs of friendly fiends, homework-classwork assignment struggles affairs, parental pleasures and pressures of affairs…all sorts.

 

Most importantly it stood monument to her proletarian but true  words affair.

 

***

 

FEARS

 

Even when Life smiles at me all benevolent

And days are spread in the glory of a light basked in glint

A fear, creeps from the deeps, unknown and strange

Not decipherable why or for reasons strange

 

Robust and blithe am I, I dread not the days to come

All is well, moving forward in a sprightly game

Yet a core of babbles arise from the corners around

I feel no aplomb, of no tenure is milieu joy bound

 

***

Mia met Jack through one of Olivia’s cousin Betty. Mia was afraid of him first. He was far too wise and serious for her. She imagined a long white beard grow out of him like Dumbledore in Harry Potter and silver rimmed magic spectacles  that saw you through whatever external façade you emitted. 

 

For Jack, Mia was an innocent child…a lovely blooming amber red beauty. Hold her too close, and she withered in frailty, hold her too far and she withered in obscurity…A case of perfect pandemonium…But loved even more so for the very same craziness.

 

Mia and Jack grew into the thriving 20s. Choices were made. Old heart throbs ceased to exist. Life lay ahead like untrodden snow. Waiting for their footsteps together. And waited infinite, for they never came together…as fate always played quirky murky twists.

 

Mia graduated from college, prepared for an illustrious career in Neuroscience, with a hit job of scientist at the International Neuroscience and Biotechnology Centrex. And got married to scientist Dr. Ray in a well planned well arranged homely marriage which made parents on both sides extremely happy in their accomplished daughters life. Along the way, Mia had an epiphany about the medical field and switched Med to English Literature.

 

Ray was a snazzy wonderful husband, everything that Mia dreamt about. Their little one gave them the infinite joy and happiness that only little ones could conjure.

 

Mia’s diary was her faithful follower.  So was Mia’s Magic Troll. In times of sanity and insanity. She poured her heart into her lovely leaves like the misty rains that made one philosophical, calming and yearn for coffee…in a secluded serenity.

 

Mia published some of her works while in the cozy confines of her day job, interned at  Dale University for the Majors and worked as an external Advisor in college - it was a lots of fun!

 

 

***

 

FEARS AGAIN

 

Of an age old adage am I reminded day in day out

The seraphic and dubious designs exist in all about

Sorrow and happiness are hand in glove

And bad weather tests acidly the times of adversity

I need not fear for I believe in God

If faith is adept, no harm will come to Lord’s protégés

Still I sense a lonely stance, a profane premonition

Of sable times to come, of sacrilege in the ringing

 

 

 

***

Jack had, in the meanwhile carved a niche for himself in a successful practice of Neurosurgery. His wife Angeline  was a pediatrician herself.  So much so for her love of children. And as funny and hilarious that things would look, they had 4 children in 7 years of marriage. Angeline was a totally dedicated mother and an even more efficient doctor. For in between all the child bearing and child rearing years, she never for once stayed at home for more than two weeks together except postpartum. In a career of about 8 years, her leaves accounted to less than 8 weeks for 4 children.

 

All because Jack gave her, what very few men could give their partners, unconditional unswerving uncompromising love and care.

 

Needless to say, Jack and Angeline were truly made for each other.

 

Such were the parallel universes of once unknowingly –loved- each- other Mia and Jack. Totally Happy and Totally Complete.

 

Strange isn’t it, that how universe or is it, God? conspires to wreck havoc in Happy Homes. The same flight of Lufthansa that carried about 550 passengers, including Jack’s and Ray’s families, on a transfer flight to Frankfurt, crashed on a cargo flight. Killing 200, the rest rescued in charred remains.

 

Mia’s pen slipped and the ink spluttered on her windy horse adorned bound note book. It was as if her strange fears somehow materialized. Somehow, all what she weaved in her words were true. The signs, the omens, the hunches, the premonitions.

 

***

FEARS REALITY

 

I pray to Thee, I bear no more, No more try me

For my mind is aching, fear to the very core

Try me not, for my strength is draining

I fear the worst, in the coming,  will u give me best…

 

I know not if my pen should gather winds and fly.

I know not, how much I should dread my imaginations

I know not these shadows of doom that dance around

I know not, why I suffer…

 

I know not how else not to drown in this mortifying pain within me…

I know not, how I will survive this slow death…

 

***

 

 

It was in those days of a little insanity and a little sanity, despair and a little hope…that Mia met Jack once more…Olivia had taken her to Globus for a movie, incessantly persisting. It was more than 2 years since Mia’s world had crashed. And they saw Jack in the line for the tickets of the movie ‘City of Dark Angels’. Mia smiled ever so lightly. She was reminded of the days she yearned to be one of the many gorgeous girls to ride the Red Ferrari that the head boy Jack drove. And just as those days, she dismissed the wretched thought, unable to visualize herself swooning over anyone.  Mia had finally become the cool flashy beautiful kid, that she always wanted to be…but it was loooong after it  really mattered to her…she did not care about being cool and beautiful anymore…

 

Mia and Jack found small relief in themselves, in small ways…

Mia as always, never confessed anything, never spoke…For her, her silence was the most bedazzling adornment.

 

For Jack,

Her Silence sang the most melodious songs…

Her Silence enhanced her shy glowing overture…

Her Silence raced his pulses whispering in his ears…

Her Silence ringed his happiest moments…

 

Mia settled back to life with Jack, hope for newer horizons. And Jack rushed about in his duties of Neurosurgery. In a lost life of his, he found more meanings in the many lives he saved with the precision and skill of his scalpel.

 

 

***

My free wild horse adorned note book still say stories….Of fears and shadows…of hopes and despairs… of promises and denials… of loves and deceit…

 

The fury described in the starting of the saga was a fury directed at whom…?

Was it directed at my Magic Troll with amber red tresses…Was the troll luck or misfortune…

Was it directed at my foolishness…

Was it directed at God’s cruelty…

Was it directed at my own love…?…

 

This was my recent entry…dated 4^th of April…’Fears of Flamingo Flames’…

 

A painting of a pink red flamingo soaring alongside a milky white ibis on a silver still misty lake with many other fury red balls in a hazy backdrop was lit with the sepia golden glow of the setting sun in horizon seeping through the window left open in a windy breeze…

 

Take me as I am, if u can

For I can be no more than that

I wish to be more than what I can

Make me that if you will

Nothing’s more important to me

Than the stance to remain free

I want to do only what I want to do

I know I am only what I am

Its me that counts in the end and nothing else matters…

Nothing else matters….lest the truth in me…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is dedicated to a dear person. Who will know its for whom...