VOYAGES

He was in the third story of the building when the early light fell into his room. Moreover, he didn’t essentially review how he reached this story. He has seriously tanked the dusk previously and his friend came from Romani, a sculptor mostly made works on oak and cast iron in the style of Constantin Brâncuși but after a few shows in Europe , liked to stay alone, but meanwhile married an Asian lady who was also a sculptor and they sojourned a few kilometers away from Cholamandalam, near the sea….. Once in a while, they went to the Bay of Bengal to view the surroundings but here was attracted to a shrine in the coastal Tamil Nadu dedicated to Virgin Mary and since they had no children, prayed and got a child. The iconoclastic husband told that it was just chance, as the human body is a bundle of miracles and possibilities like any other subject that comes under our observation, but the happy woman believed that it was the consequence of that prayer. In her dwelling, there was a scriptural book and the members kissed the Virgin’s picture which was more in the form of a princess than a common pious lady, and the children, [ she had another child after a few years] approved it, the command of their mother, scrupulously, though the agnostic husband was spared from all these and left at midnight……. They had a social function at the city lodging. He holds the title of that resort. In his school times, it was his dream to start a gigantic spa. Also, he could have indulgence halt and jazz and bluegrass music and unending beverages in the cafeteria. Also, he aspired to fix a ton of lavish stuff and he presumed that individuals will lean toward him if he is affluent.And the people will concede however crazy his discussion is, as he is the titleholder of the entire set up. Yet it was just a wild thought of his ridiculous self, which tended to forsake him at the most pivotal moments. For example, the scene at the roadside cafeteria when he tried to hold a many with his old muscle power which was already weaning. Youth comes only once, but a man ought to learn from his follies every now and then, till the whole life is a book to learn, see the reflection of oneself in the other. The same passions, the same misken selves, the same chase after dreams, loose parlances, eulogies, tributes, small exploits of kindness and so on.We are not even the representatives of our own folk but a representative of our own good selves lived and molded under pleasure and pain. Who said it, he thought, maybe his father, or uncle, or he might have heard it at a cultural meet after they all drank and did not grasp what they were chatting about, or perhaps in the conference of women poets of the country which he attended at one of the rear rows. ..and he later felt contrite about the whole scene. The general culture at the bar was very brisk and sound and two or three of them were extremely dynamic in the nearby causes and some very blunt in broad daylight about working environment misuse, and a working couple was a journalist and photographer, bringing up their children in splendidly special ways , and when his automobile was passing the route, he saw the woman tending to the group with incredible eagerness. He stopped the auto and took a survey at the speaker and realized that it as his deputy, and she additionally looked as though stirred by a concealed coercion, and both distinguished each other, yet at the workplace, did not address about it.He was pondering about how below his very bill he got such preposterous and defiant people, however more skillful than him. In the interim, he weighed keenly about his faculties, which he didn’t develop even after a few endeavors of his dad. He just acquired a tremendous proposal and a misusing propensity which was not, however good basically… He didn’t build up any of his abilities and perceived with the stun that at the closing minute he will significantly repine for that…But his sibling, however, transformed into an excellent chorister, obviously with a great deal of pulling up of strings. His mom in that last stages of sickness, out of obligation in the upper room with a bunch of religious flyers and looking sluggishly outside the cross-section…His friend arrived in the morning from the port city and narrated to him-.I will dazzle you with measure, acrobatics and melody, humor and juggling, cantos and all that is gratifying for refined humours,and also the mild contests of a village cycle acrobat [which was attended with father at fourth standard]and in the afternoon he purchased me, the first book, ‘Children’s Tagore’ and it was a festival day and we bought a big jackfruit from the market and shouldered it home…dear, that was a journey of five miles on foot!…..There was a bottle on the mesa with a grey design and a spike that resembled a gooseberry. Because the bottle was made in a region where gooseberry shrubs are closer. It was an intoxicant that he never used but a present esteemed by some of his other friends and he thought that when they arrive in the next vacation he can celebrate a feast with it and later take a stroll in the theme park and the mountain ridges, and perhaps they could see a pair of stag or doe and shoot photographs. His friend had a whole collection of animal photographs and his wife joked that he loved them more than human beings, which perhaps was genuine, seeing some of his depressive moods, and the last outburst in September that all his values on life are false or rather changing and he is going to start everything from the scratch as if like small schoolboy into the first lessons of language….. And his mother in the room in the balcony by the pet patio. and the view of the garden of coconut palms, and jackfruit trees and the mango trees…..His nephew came from Università della Calabria and they talked much at night together sharing the accounts of jokes and escapades of boyhood, when he was staying with her and attending a local school, all by candlelight—–In the morning she woke up and said of a dream of a judge who had a crown made of jasper–reddish-brown semi-precious stone consisting of a variety of chalcedony, walking on the esplanade at surfers’ haven with an accompaniment of the music of Rachmaninov and the sound of ballet steps of blithe dancers.That was the last day of her life…..

——[From a work of FICTION that is in progress]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Published by azuremorn

Writer, traveler. Lives in India.

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