The air was tumultuous with shrieks of joy. Festoons of different colors filled the place. The wind howled in merriment and made the flags flutter.
Her eyes slowly scanned the landscape. She could see tiny people hurrying along, young men trying to be gallant, fathers trying to coax children into leaving the fair before dark, and exited women trying hard to tear their eyes away from one stall to another.
She looked up at the radiant sun that was slowly losing luster. She smiled to herself. The whole place seemed so agitated when compared to the gloomy silence the mountains possessed.
"Over here, look over here", she heard him shout. For a moment she was tempted to rush down the slope to join him. But she stood still and continued probing the landscape. It was because of him that she was here. A rush of hatred, love and fear overcame her. But she stood still, for the fight was worth it.
When the sun slowly started moving towards the western horizon, she knew the time had come. The wind whistled into her ears and soothed her frayed nerves. Slowly, step by step she edged tentatively on the rocks. She was now on the topmost point of the hill and she could see the fair gradually losing its energy. Her senses were inhumanly alert while her agile body moved in grace. She could feel a thousand eyes on her now.
He was still there looking at her intently. She could feel her whole body go rigid. From this point she could see vast stretches of barren land surrounding the fair. She steadied herself and took another step towards the edge. Cold wind seeped through her clothes and chilled her skin. One more step and it would be over. She could see the tiny flags from the fair fluttering nonchalantly in the wind. She wondered if she would look like them if she fell. And then she turned to give him one last look. His face had turned white. She closed her eyes and lifted her right leg…
"Cut", he shouted, "Excellent! That’s all for today... Lights and camera off. Pack up".
4 comments:
superb
packs quite a surprise
how you toy with the reader's mind !
an (unintended) point to ponder (especially in hindsight):
"exited women trying hard to tear their eyes away from one stall to another"
for, all the world is a stage -
subsumed in our roles
we lose ourselves
the tinge of pathos that earlier permeated,
dispelled by the fighting spirit that prevails ?
@surabala
Thank you..:)
To be quite honest, the fighting spirit many a time suffers a shuddering defeat in the hands of either heart-wrenching pathos or hedonistic pursuits. It is a rarity to see the spirit shaking off that burden and still seeing the light of the day…Dark times ;)
you are addressing me directly for the 1st time.
thank you for that.
the fighting spirit, heart-wrenching pathos and hedonistic pursuits certainly is a motley crew.
sadness is a great ingredient in god’s scheme of things – it helps us (to) understand others’ plight (empathy), provide a relatively stable mental equilibrium protecting us from frivolous excitement or desperation (equanimity), either instill or restore the right perspective in life, encourage reflection (to go on a voyage of self-discovery), and develop mental toughness (you see, the fighting spirit is not really an antithesis of pathos)
pathos is different from desperation and despair.
one is a disturbed emotional state, the other moulds the personality.
– and dispel is not vanquish – you can view it as lifting the spell, transformation or a movement to a more desirable place or state
may you pathos refine you and your happiness emerge with a burnished glory.
hedonistic pleasures ! the hues of hedonistic pleasures (like those of hellenic ideals) change with times, cultures and a personal bias.
like a composer said in defense of writing galloping religious music in stead of the (expected) grim and grave music :
“why in the name of hell should devil have all the happy tunes ?”
we all have long been conditioned and terrorized by this idea –
everything pleasant is indulgence = sin = a cynical god sitting in judgment
fun and frolic is part of god’s package too (like pathos)
your freedom ends where cleopatra’s fabulous nose begins
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