A Peace of Winter.

She unlocked the door, stepped in and let a big sigh of relief. Another day had ended. Her fingers retreated from the switches. The darkness is soothing. Contrary to popular beliefs, the dark and color black doesn't always imply a depressed affect. It calmed her nerves. Slowed her racing mind. 

Though legally she had been an adult for the last 2 years and 363 days, she only recently realized all the responsibilities and problems that came with such "power". The freedom and independence she had been bestowed upon had its loop holes and catches. Despite her youth, time wasn't her best friend. Tied up with work, the gradual disappearance of her friends and the fierce and fiery experiences of superior authorities had kept her on her toes.

The darkness was like a cold cubes of ice on her eyes. Quietly she slipped off her uncomfortable shoes and slid across the polished floors barefooted. She continued silently across the house, as if not to wake a sleeping child, and quickly changed out of her work wear. With a blue polka dotted cup of hot tea -when did the transition from coffee to tea happen? - she slithered to the balcony that seemed most hushed. The brown branches and the leaves of varied green greeted her but stayed still as a stone. She could hear the swing set creak under the weight of the mother and son enjoying their ritualistic evening sway. I love it when my senses are heightened. I am in the Now. Everything that has happened- good or bad- has led me to this moment. A soft breeze would've made this setting perfect. 

It was pretty warm for a November evening. The wilderness outside was strangely stagnant. Few cars and scooters drove by on the rough terrain, she followed the headlights as far as the darkness would let her. Sipping what seemed like good tea to her, she closed her eyes to recollect the day that had been. A rather slow day at work but it ended watching the younger ones with a joy that she had forgotten. A simple joy that had been masked by the obligations and duties of being grown up. The silly amusement of having cake splattered on each others faces. The gleeful delight in refusing to delete someones bad picture. The evil gratification of stealing chocolates that belonged to another person. Couple of years from now, would we be 'allowed' to behave like this? she thought remorsefully.


Peace is a difficult thing to achieve. Inner peace isn't something you achieve or acquire. It's something you have to maintain. Life is an obstacle race. Expect that in life, the hurdles are unpredictable. Just as you steady yourself - sometimes even before that- the next hoop to jump arrives couple of feet from you.

Her blue polka dotted cup of tea was almost empty and the blood thirsty mosquitoes had began to swarm around her feet. It was time to go indoors. The swing sets' squeaking had stopped quite sometime back but the cacophony of the carpenters had not. The temperatures had begun to drop and she softly said goodnight to the leaves that were sleeping as she shut the door behind her.

 

Karmic Justice

She pressed her forehead against the grill, feeling the soft, oddly directly wind caress her face. It was going to rain. It's about time too... There was probably a function happening somewhere far. She could see, what she believed was, the whole city from where she sat. There were fireworks in the distance. I feel like I'm on a train, on the way to a destination I've never been before but I can see the celebrations and joy at the end of the tunnel already. Shouldn't I be more apprehensive? 

Books, movies, society make us believe that one gets what he deserves. Good people get their share of rewards and bad their share of punishments. Karma. Some beliefs have people punish themselves to rid themselves of their sins. I create the apprehension in my mind. Just to make myself believe I deserve and be sure I receive the colourful fireworks. She lifted her head and sat up straight, looking at the grills. Hasn't always been fruitful, has it? 

Life had taken a drastic turn. Which is a good thing. She reassured herself. She wasn't worthy she thought. She needed more pain n misery in her life to deserve what she was given. Rubbish! She chided herself. She pulled at her sticky t-shirt. The subtle air currents from that window weren't enough to cool her off.

It's a long way off, those fireworks. They seem..no they are attainable but patience and perseverance is what is required. She took a deep breath, held it and exhaled, letting go of that tight knot in her chest, expelling her mind-made-apprehension. You can do it! She got off the seat by the window, picked up her glass that was now covered with humidified little droplets and walked over to the sink to rinse. She undid her hair only to redo it tighter and higher and settled back to the room with an AC. What is the natural sweaty wind in front of the dry and mighty artificial air?  We are all addicted. The ones who can afford it, even the ones who can free-load it. Summers are always bad here and everyone is in search for shelter.

She settled into her sheets and took out her book and pen and drowned herself in her books till she fell asleep on them. 

The train seemed to be stuck. She wiped the droplets of sweat that formed on her brow, Why aren't we moving? Or are we? She seems confused by the traffic that was moving the other way. It was cooking up inside the cabin, Argh I hate this. She stood up to leave but stopped at the door. Where would she go? This was all she had. A little boogie, hot as an oven, crammed with things with just one exit. One exit into a similar never ending maze of the same set of boogies. Paranoid and suffocated, she felt panic creep. It was spreading. She felt her abdomen tense, her diaphragm paralyze, her chest start swelling and regressing at a pace she didn't know was possible. Her hands were sweaty, her whole body was perspiring. Deep breathes.... deep breathes... She told herself. She lifted her heavy hands to her mouth and breathed into it hoping to reduce her hyperventilation.

She woke up with a start. Her drool all over her pages. Her neck cramped and her arm pale and pitted. Its only a dream... or nightmare... or a post traumatic stress reaction. She giggled whilst she wiped her face and bed table. Its over now. Things are better, much better now. She felt a knot develop again. The knot was a way of her stereotyped mind telling her she didn't deserve this happiness. She didn't deserve the warden free life or the comforts of the dry air and cold fridge. 

Why do I do this to myself? Drown myself in self-pity? You are tall and able. You are confident and strong footed. Hold your head and nose up high. You've been through more than you thought you ever could've. She grabbed the metaphorical knot with her metaphorical hands and untangled them like  she straightens a ball of headphones. Prove to 'them' - the gods, higher powers, whoever seems to be controlling the decisions of philosophical justice -  that you do deserve it. Get your dream. Get to your unknown yet known destination and show 'them' that it was worth it all. 

It was 3AM. She piled her books, as neatly as her hypnagogic state would allow her to, onto the floor, turned off the lights, snuggled into her blanket on that warm summer night and cuddled her little teddy smiling, looking forward to wake up to a bright brand new day after what seemed like ages.