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Dew Creations
With lots of love and happiness as fresh as dew!
Tuesday, 18 October 2022
Sunday, 13 March 2022
March 13th 2022
The week had been very intense. Actually, it was very awful. I had asked myself, ''Oh, depression! Who art Thou?'' Why do I always pressure myself? Why am I the perfect perfectionist, that I am? Will life get any better? The kind Goddess proved to be the worst of it's kind. After sucking the entire life out of me, she was content. And I, having made the greatest sacrifice of myself, lost everything that I held very dear. The sacrifice made had been huge. A piece of my soul, a chunk of my heart and all of my happiness. The goddess had won. Who am I to deny her?
There I was, crying myself to sleep the entire day. Why isn't there a soul to care? Well, the soul there had been sacrificed. So there was no soul left to care.
As I sat under the Jujube tree, after months of my brain asking me to kill myself, here I was writing my blog. Putting to words exactly how I felt. Why me?
Oh, all those questions to which we never know the answer to. I constantly raked my brain and asked myself what I did wrong to deserve all this? And the number of times I begged God for His mercy. And the number of times He answered and asked me to wait.
And right there, the answer was. Just wait. And why couldn't I wait?
Suddenly I had a vision. I wasn't exactly a vision. It was more of a fantasy. There was a man walking beside me. I was content and happy. Then there was this little boy who questioned every little thing as we walked through the barren land. And there I was, explaining him carefully. And the man beside me was happy. I was happy. Maybe there was a promising life after. Maybe there was a life that I fantasised.
It was 6:50 p.m. on Sunday evening. The 13th of March 2022. I felt completely at ease. I was content. I finally felt, I was at home. The breeze, pleasant; the summer, merciful; and the night, brighter. The fireflies were dancing their lives away. What more can I ask for?
Thursday, 14 January 2021
First hunt
Our family was a very regular family in the town (or, that was what I thought). Nothing new or amusing happens. As far as my knowledge goes, I have never seen my father go to work. My mother is the sole bread winner who has to put up with me, my younger sister and my jobless father. As a result, the reins are also in my mother's hands. What she says happens in the house. And my dad, well, he does nothing but sleep, watch sports, eat and then sleep. He doesn't even talk much. Surprisingly, I have never heard my mom complain.
This was my family as I saw it till my sixth grade. It is not that my family changed after that, my perspective changed.
I often had to visit the Principal’s office. Not because I was doltish or delinquent, but because I support Shannon McLeone. He is the most bullied boy in our class. Reninton Wolsorley is the head bully. He always claims himself as the pure blood descendant of Viocrent Wolsorley (I have never understood what is there to be proud of). He boasts often that his family has got their very own coat of arms. A hunting wolf surrounded by teaks and olives. He is the third person in his family with the same name it seems for his name comes along with the tag “the third”. Although he adds “the third” with much pride, I personally find it funny. The richness of his raising is always reflected in his behaviour. The way he ill-treats other students, the way he wastes his food, the way he orders everyone around are a few examples worthy of mention. You can always find him whining that it was fate that brought him to this poor school while he ought to be enjoying the luxuries of private schooling.
A spooky encounter
It happened in my high school days. One of my cousins came over for holidays. He wanted a particular type of wild rabbit for his project work and he was told that the rabbit variety was very abundant in the forests of the nearby village. And so we packed our foods and set out early the next day morning.
We got into a bus and started the journey. Bus travel usually makes me very sleepy and I slept midway. And I had this peculiar dream. In my dream, I saw a very old man whose back was so bent that I could see only the back of his balding head. He kept repeating "Tubaad! Tubaad!"
"What is it old man?" I asked. Yet he kept repeating the same word.
"Is it a name? Or is it a place?"
"Baad! Tubaad!" he repeated.
At last I understood. "Did you say Bad? Too bad?"
"Yus! Baad! Goo buck." That was the last of what he said. The dream came to an end. Images of the bald head of the old man fulled my mind.
The more I tried to recall, the more afraid I became. Then, having quite a lengthy conversation with myself, I came to a conclusion that it was not wise to share it with my cousin.
We got down when the bus came to a halt and started asking for directions. Each and every person to whom we asked for the directions gave us puzzling looks and asked what we youngsters had to do with the forest. They just laughed in our faces when we said about the project and the need for the rabbit. We at last found a store that hires bicycles and hired two for us.
It was almost afternoon when we reached the outskirts of the village. Throughout the cycle tour, we suffered the ruthlessness of the harsh sun. After taking many a twist and turn, we reached the forest. It lay before us like a great green giant. The very sight of the forest was very peculiar. The trees looked very evergreen and swampy inspite of its temperate location, giving absolutely no clue about the heat waves that we had experienced just before. We could smell it's dampness as we stood in front of it. Maybe my ears had became deaf I thought; for not even a tiny sound was heard from it. Now I consider myself very brave then for having come to such a terrible place.
We saw a very old house with an overgrown garden in front of it. The house was old fashioned, with half of its roof missing. It's walls were green with moss. The house showed no sign of life at all. We wandered for sometime around the house, hoping to find someone. As we came to a conclusion that it had no occupants, a weird looking man came out of nowhere. His choice of fashion was ever weirder. His shirt was of bright orange with large black lines that ran chaotically all around it. His pants were of baby pink. He wore a pointed hat that made me remember wizards.
"I wonder what brings toddlers here?" he said.
And my cousin explained his need for the rabbit.
"Ha! It's been a long time since I have heard people hunting it." he said "as if it's foot brings any better luck than the ordinary ones. Unlucky people. If only they had lived to see the fate of the rabbit." he laughed out aloud.
We both exchanged looks wondering what he meant.
"Those were the old times. Those full of superstitions." he said "Now, how are you planning to catch it."
"Sir, I have a snare and a net with me." my cousin replied.
"That will do." he said "Why don't you guys come in and have some biscuits and tea?"
"Would like to but we have to catch it as soon as possible." my cousin replied.
"Well, that would be upto you. But still I advise you to leave the little girl here. The forest is not too safe." the old man replied.
To be more truthful, I did not want to stay there. But my cousin agree with him and decided to leave me there inspite of my protests. And... he left me there with the old man.
The old man started to explain me, the history of the place. It seemed to have been the home of a troll. Yes, troll. That was what he said.
"Have a seat as you listen to the story of the troll." he said.
As I sat down, he continued with the story. "The story is that, the troll was very angry one. They say his heart was of gold and his body was of fire." he sniggered "He roamed from place to place. Some say that he was Adam's son. The fellow named Cain. But I do not know about that. After decades of roaming, it is said that, he found a friend. Like the human occupants of the world, he too started to treasure it. He was not versed in agriculture. The seeds he touched, refused to grow. The animals ran away at the very sight of him.
"Yet, in this very town, he found a friend. A parson. The two became very inseparable. The troll reached a stage in which he couldn't live without him. So, he gathered all his riches, came to this very place and settled here. It is said that, the troll wanted it very lavish complete with turrets and minarets. But the parson, being a humble man, wanted it to be very simple. Surprisingly, the troll obeyed every word of the parson. He built this small house, and gave away most of his treasures to the poor.
"It was his charity, that brought many an eye of envy. People started to think that, he had infallible treasure collected from the very beginning of the earth. But he, on the other hand, invited every thive home and gave him a grand banquet and sent him home with many a gift.
"The troll's fame spread far and wide. There was a young and daring thief who came from a distant land. He was as foolish as brave he was. He wanted the entire lot for himself. So, he came on a twilight just like this." as he said that, I noticed that it was almost twilight already. "A beautiful one. The sun looked like a round red ball of fire. It looked as if it was ready to bounce on the surface of the earth and back to the sky. The foolish thief came. He chuckled at his own intelligence. He came armed with a knife. He thought of sliding the knife right into the troll's heart. But as he reached the place, the troll welcomed him with open arms and showed him his heart. 'I have lived long my friend' he said 'I have seen death very near and very often. I was afraid of him once. But not now. I am ready to embrace him.' he said. And the foolish fellow killed him. He watched death at close quarters for the first time. This very garden in which we sit was filled with blood. The very garden which he tried to make but with no success. As his blood flowed through the ground, every seed which he planted grew and became wild but beautiful. It became what you see now. Too wild to tend by a mere human. The troll's very blood runs in the veins of these plants.
But the garden was nothing when compared to the love that ran through the ground. The parson came running and he bent right over the troll and he died. Death came riding the clouds. His chariot, was a black ray of light. One would wonder, if a light would have black colour. He came riding with all his majesty and took the friends and bound them with the cord of love. As he was about to leave, he turned and gave a weak smile to the young lad and left." he smiled as he said it. "You are lucky to have come on the very same day this occurred."
"What happened to the young man?" I stammered.
"Oh! He died. Mysteriously. No one knows how. The house lies desolate since. But some believe that, the man became a wild mad wanderer just like the troll and still lives around. But mark my words, no one knows. Word also runs around that, one day, the fellow will find a friend and settle at last." he said dreamily "It is also said that, he was cursed by the Ancient of days and his curse would be seven times as worse as that of the troll."
I felt the clouds darken and saw a black ray of light. It came from the sky and touched the canopy of the wild garden. I gulped. As I watched it, my cousin came with a white fluffy rabbit. I turned around to look at the old man, and there was no trace of him. There was not even a single indication that he was there a few minutes ago.
I became more confused than before. We left the city but the trouble at my heart never left. Who was the old man? Did he tell his own story?