The Story of Life in a Room
Like all the rooms that make up buildings, this too was made of brick and mortar and had a roof. The window on the West captured the green foliage of the tri-trunk Rain tree. The one on the south overlooked the sewer flowing in sombre silence,and also offered a view of roofs housing other lives. A being named I inhabited the Room's space riding the wheels of time in aimless madness.
On many early mornings when sleep still eluded the weary eyes, a name-less bird called to say, ' yet another day was born' and woke up the day to life. On the garish days of the year, black bees pollinated the flowers of bright pink-white hues that dotted the dark green canopy of the Rain tree.
In late afternoons, as the sun began its descent, through the spaces between fluttering leaves streaming rays fell on the floor in quivering patterns of light patches modulated by the leaves dancing to the afternoon winds. When the heat seared the spirit, I pulled the dirty drapes down the windows, shunning the light and the world. In the embrace of faint shadow of the translucent drapes, I relaxed in a semblance of solace.
Late into the evenings, as the Rain tree folded its leaves, a bitter fear choked I's heart and was washed down with gallons of bitter fluids. Stupor conquered fear in the evening battle. In celebration, red ants marched along the walls and tailless Geckos came wagging its absent tail. Ants fed on the drops of revelry and Geckos fed on ants. I watched these acts of existence in silence.
Sewer flowing beneath the window, under the pale moonlight appeared like a river of black, upon whose dark waters plastic clumps floated like sinful beings on their way to the abyss of hell. On the streets lining the sewer lived a dozen dogs. In the nightly hours, sleepless and hungry, they howled and barked in the empty streets. From the dark windows on the Southern facade of the Room, I threw bones to the howling dogs. The dogs never worried about the invisible source of the bones as they held it in their drooling mouth. When a bad throw landed the bones in the murky waters of the sewer they still hogged at it and drank the waters of the sewer. Whatever they ate they still howled and barked keeping the sleep of beings living around at bay. What ails the dogs at nights remains a mystery, may be they howled and barked to have their existence noticed.
Above the howling dogs, the night winds blew in a turbulent flow. The winds passed through the iron grids of the rectangular windows , merging at right angles in a tumultuous commotion. The swirling currents of air caressed the perspiring spirit steaming in helpless agony. The caresses soothed the unreasoned seething
Far into the night when nothing moved, except for the rustling leaves, I's delirious whimpering lips etched words on the atoms of silent air. I survived the eerie nights by clutching on to the word. When there was nothing there were words floating in the dark spaces of the Room.
After many days and many nights of these kinds, in the dusky hours of a day, I dragged out of the Room leaving a trail of tears, blood, sweat, and drops of everything that embodied I's life. The nameless bird, marching red ants, tailless geckos, flowers of pink and white colours, the dark sewer, howling dogs, all seemed like distant dream from a previous birth.
The relationship between I and the Room hence can be stated thus: I had a room and the Room had a life. Like the shadow of a passing white cloud renders a momentary respite from the scorching heat, the Room offered soothing relief from the pain of this bitter business called life and that's what a true home does - relieves and comforts.
On many early mornings when sleep still eluded the weary eyes, a name-less bird called to say, ' yet another day was born' and woke up the day to life. On the garish days of the year, black bees pollinated the flowers of bright pink-white hues that dotted the dark green canopy of the Rain tree.
In late afternoons, as the sun began its descent, through the spaces between fluttering leaves streaming rays fell on the floor in quivering patterns of light patches modulated by the leaves dancing to the afternoon winds. When the heat seared the spirit, I pulled the dirty drapes down the windows, shunning the light and the world. In the embrace of faint shadow of the translucent drapes, I relaxed in a semblance of solace.
Late into the evenings, as the Rain tree folded its leaves, a bitter fear choked I's heart and was washed down with gallons of bitter fluids. Stupor conquered fear in the evening battle. In celebration, red ants marched along the walls and tailless Geckos came wagging its absent tail. Ants fed on the drops of revelry and Geckos fed on ants. I watched these acts of existence in silence.
Sewer flowing beneath the window, under the pale moonlight appeared like a river of black, upon whose dark waters plastic clumps floated like sinful beings on their way to the abyss of hell. On the streets lining the sewer lived a dozen dogs. In the nightly hours, sleepless and hungry, they howled and barked in the empty streets. From the dark windows on the Southern facade of the Room, I threw bones to the howling dogs. The dogs never worried about the invisible source of the bones as they held it in their drooling mouth. When a bad throw landed the bones in the murky waters of the sewer they still hogged at it and drank the waters of the sewer. Whatever they ate they still howled and barked keeping the sleep of beings living around at bay. What ails the dogs at nights remains a mystery, may be they howled and barked to have their existence noticed.
Above the howling dogs, the night winds blew in a turbulent flow. The winds passed through the iron grids of the rectangular windows , merging at right angles in a tumultuous commotion. The swirling currents of air caressed the perspiring spirit steaming in helpless agony. The caresses soothed the unreasoned seething
Far into the night when nothing moved, except for the rustling leaves, I's delirious whimpering lips etched words on the atoms of silent air. I survived the eerie nights by clutching on to the word. When there was nothing there were words floating in the dark spaces of the Room.
After many days and many nights of these kinds, in the dusky hours of a day, I dragged out of the Room leaving a trail of tears, blood, sweat, and drops of everything that embodied I's life. The nameless bird, marching red ants, tailless geckos, flowers of pink and white colours, the dark sewer, howling dogs, all seemed like distant dream from a previous birth.
The relationship between I and the Room hence can be stated thus: I had a room and the Room had a life. Like the shadow of a passing white cloud renders a momentary respite from the scorching heat, the Room offered soothing relief from the pain of this bitter business called life and that's what a true home does - relieves and comforts.
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