The Divine Intervention

He opened his eyes to a new world. There was no need for an alarm. Warm sunshine and the cool morning breeze conspired with the curtains at his window to brush the trance of sleep off him. This was Utopia.

The world revolved around the sun so he could experience daylight and the dark; the beauty of light and serenity of the night. The world rotated on its axis to accommodate his yearning for the warmth of summer, the falling leaves of autumn , the chill of winter and the freshness of spring – he wanted to touch all the colours of life, and to feel alive. Everyday, as the sunshine woke him up, his royal breakfast awaited him as he took a long steaming shower. After feasting, he changed into his perfectly ironed, creaseless dressing gown, only to find a well-oiled vehicle ready to take him to places. Nobody dared stop him at the entrance of the gardens of knowledge, for he possessed the golden ticket. His trips to these gardens were all sponsored ‘til it was time to fruition and time to fare forth. As he stepped on to the big stage, ready to take on the world, it was easy to notice that he had an unfair advantage on the battlefield. Fate always seemed to favour him. The dice always rolled the odds in his favour. His cards were all aces. At every turn, there were just uneven, unfair advantages that propelled him to success. He was destined to succeed – he was the “Sun”. It wasn’t what he initially thought. “Son”. NOW he got it right.

His mother’s sweet voice echoed – “It is time to wake up, my world.” He didn’t want to wake up from this dream, failing to realize that reality was more beautiful.

This is just an attempt to pay tributes to the parents; our sunshine and our world, our golden tickets and trump cards, our north star and good fortunes. Heaven is real. It is your mother’s perfection, your father’s sacrifice; they move the world so that we can sleep at night, live by day. No words can do justice to these unsung superheroes in our lives. No action reciprocates their selflessness.

But we can try. We owe it to them and to ourselves.

Death to Love

He seemed distant. Cold. Unworldly. She looked at him for hours but never saw him blink for once. Nor did she, all that time. Something was off. He was different. How could the world not see him? Why was it so difficult for her to notice anything else when he was around? She had never felt this way before. Relentless in her pursuit of self-actualization, she had no time for anybody or anyone. Yet, on the most ordinary of days, she finds herself gazing upon this simple man who did not so much as have a wiff of an aura. He was like a shadow; no identity, no presence and certainly no substance. Despite all of this, she knew deep down that there was more to him that met the eye. Afterall, the shadow proves the sunshine. During all this episode, she concentrated every ounce of her attention on him, dedicated all her thoughts to him and wished for the Law of Reciprocity to come into play.

With all his power, he exercised restrained. What was wrong with him? Why did it feel so unnatural? He had done this since the beginning of time. It was his purpose. It gave him an identity, a meaning to his existence. This was just another name in the list, yet something was off. She was different. Why couldn’t he bring about himself to face her? Relentless in his pursuit of obligation, he had no time to study his subjects. Yet, on this day, he couldn’t fail but notice this light that demanded attention. For once, he felt life. What it was like for the living. He knew the world wouldn’t miss her if she were gone. She may end up being someone’s after-thought and fade away from the realms of time. Yet he was finding it hard to bring about himself to finish the job. But it was not his call. To question the plans of God. And hence, he, for the first time and the last, looked into her eyes and blinked.

That day, Love met Death.


Inspired by:

Blinding Light and Illuminating Darkness

Blink… Blink… Blink… No flashes. Nada interruption. Nothing registered. The sun could scorch her deep blue eyes for eternity, but she would be unfazed. She could glare back at the light because she didn’t have any; in her eyes. She was blind.

Meanwhile, just around the corner, light could not guide him home. A glint on the windscreen, a blink of the stone-cold eyes and car whorls into the valley of darkness. Angels wept that day but the rain did not pour. It was a clear sunny day. It did not matter for her, but it meant the world, or rather, the after-world for him.

And so, the sun sets down after a yet another purposeful day without failing to flinch for a moment. Finally giving way to darkness. To doubt. With the darkness, comes the demons. To haunt a man who is deprived. Son of the mayor, having no identity of his own. Born with the golden spoon but taste buds developed to the extent that the grandest of feasts didn’t fascinate him anymore. Bored off extravagance. He lacked motive. He had questions that even the money could not buy answers for. He yearned for a cause that was larger than life. Meanwhile, just around the corner, a girl, who was irrelevant to the entire scheme of affairs, wanted to change the world. Money was the answer to all her questions. She must act fast as time is merciless to those who can’t afford it. She had transcended beyond reason in her battle to provide a purpose to the children of the street; she was a lost cause and yet a cause for the lost. Even the devils went Hallelujah on God's mysterious ways, as he drove towards the night club in search of peace while she slept soundly on the footpath dreaming of tomorrow. The sun shall rise again...

"...but that was the thing about reality. It didn't need to make sense."
- Mira Grant, Blackout