Naturally Special: Water Of Hope

Sequestration from one’s own flesh and blood is undoubtedly a heinous event, typically a nadir, an uncalled f*****g nadir in someone’s life. There exists no consolation for this part of one’s life. And what makes this even more devilish is the fact that such sorts of silences, separations and voids are unavoidable and comes in everyone’s life certainly. “Certainty”-Why does it occur? If we are never destined to die or that death won’t be ineludible and certain, life won’t be a lesson anymore. In such moments of displeasure, if one has been relinquished to love, the undulating life turns easier and more comforting. But what if that very love leads to another cycle of distress? Another cycle of separation and sacrifice. It smashes our souls into smithereens. Someone who was of a selfless heart, a kind heart inflicted with affection, someone who caressed our hands of despondency- What if that support gets confiscated? Hibito, a city which has long been recognized for its culture, glory, and magnificence is now into racks and ruins. Recent terrorist invasions and furious intrusions proselytizes Hibito into a land of agony. Swaddled with melancholy and helplessness, the city has been rendered lifeless. Only a place for medicos to scrutinize the strewn cadavers! “Hope”-an ambiguous, sort of a gibberish emotion, is now extant only within the unsurpassable boundaries of the last, down in the dumps heirs of the destroyed and dead families. Hope -to catch a last sight of the deceased, hope to behold the final warmth of their mothers. The Almighty seems to deliver a reprimand to all such souls today. All the love has been shattered and there exists no place for repenting since everything is rubble now. No place to shed tears! Every plausible pixel of land moaned, burying the victims. The episode wherein the supreme being turns ruthless is supposedly the end of a spiritual era. But what hurts one the most is the whereabouts and intricacies of the very “Hope”. Of the form of a miniscule hole on a musty paper, this indigent hope burgeons at first when the last living member of a lost home gets closer to the ruined architectures of their homes, and consequently plummeting as the hole is now named air as the paper has lost its integrity. Guzheng, Bamboo Flutes, Mouth Organs, Harmoniums- Musical and magical instruments assist the sorrows of the broken. Such glorious weapons are being played by the ones who never really had someone before and after them. The terrorists aren’t faulty here, after all the God missed their Amygdala. Whatever happens, whatever unravels is all scribbled, entwined within the threads of our deeds. Dylan,19- An eyesome yet attenuated guy, draped within a turtle neck black striped pullover under a beige long coat festooned with a contrasting Korean haircut, traipses along the wrecked walls of his colony’s public park. His face looks despondently hopeful. An aching face hovering around in search of something special is seen in the scene. The incessant rain swarms even the finest details of the apocalypse. The rain is audacious enough to have breached even the most unpleasant and excruciating attestations of the blasts. The moonlight fails to glisten the gloomy world of Hibito. Even the oldest of leaves refuse to rustle to contribute to the uncanny and sinister silence that prevails. Powerful wind strokes bump deeply into Dylan- the boy who has lost his path to home. Dylan is reluctant to accept the downfall of his hometown. He walks apprehensively, out of a painful trepidation, towards his assumed-to-be dilapidated lane in search for his place, his beloved. [Horns honking, cars screeching, alarms blaring.] With a sky decked within a capsule of smoke and a microenvironment made of raindrops, it appears as if the heavens are mourning, weeping at the loss of mortals. For the innocent Daniel, the heavens were snubbing the dejection of the mankind by erasing even the souvenirs of this roller coaster disaster. There was no one to let Dylan know the mitigation process of the rain. Dylan (puffed): Sir, let me cross the barricades. “Son, You shan’t. Sorry to say, Entry Prohibited Street!”, says Inspector Harrison (as his personalised badge engraves) shrugging. “You son of a b***h!!!”, shrieks Dylan out of a throbbing head as he gets uncontrollable and tender-eyed. “She’s there (points at the end of the street). I haven’t seen her (weeps as he is held tightly by the officer). Alone. (stoops down) Alone. (kneels a bit more as he repeats “alone” and vents down.) Alone.”. Tears of helplessness, powerlessness and dependence emerges, finds their way through his pale visage. Dylan’s face is intermittently visible to the officer due to the flickering lightning and a faint moonlight. Harrison holds Dylan and pulls him up gently. He doesn’t feel conceited. {Clamour and commotion. The officer whispers to himself- “Oh God! May God bless this lad. MERCY!} Dylan wanted to reproach but the courteous and considerate hug persuades him to softly break the intimacy. In the middle of nowhere, the restless and agitated Dylan hears an ominous announcement sourced from a close place, “Dear residents of Hibito, things have lately been quite unfavourable for the city. Our lovely city is the victim of terrorist attacks. (screeching sound) The mayor has notified the authorities to have the city evacuated with an urgency. We are saddened to beseech the inhabitants for an exodus. Arrangements have been made at Mt. Ossawa for the same. This is being done to ensure the security from all possible aerial war fares and bombardments.” In the continuation, a feminine voice adds further, addressing in a vague voice, “The corpses aren’t meant to be incinerated, buried or removed from Hibito in order to have their deaths duly confirmed by the Ministry.” Standing near a Giant Oak with vulnerability and defencelessness, Dylan longs to meet his beloved mother. The physical barriers barring his path of heart don’t really suffocate Dylan. Somewhere in his heart, he was hesitant to step on the dirt of his own abode, diffident to come in terms with the reality. Mr. Harrison was sceptical about the future of Dylan. His oath to serve prompted him to not to leave his duty and solicitate the teen. Dylan, on the other hand faces the reality of life and gets versed with the human predicament and quandary. His hands wavers to fling the barricades from a distance but his heart provokes him to wait. What breaks, fragments Dylan is the adamant part of the proclamation, having nary space for a ray of hope for the disturbed living entities, as if they have been entitled to suffer. Dylan would have preferred a physically challenging death. Dylan’s face narrates an unpredictable tale, a memoir of love and separation. He carried with his heart, a moto to feel his progenitress’ joyful and youthful skin, hear her Latin vibrato, to see her moving expressions. Reminiscing her touch, ruminating over his single mom’s warm cuddle, Dylan sits under the tree kicking his heels for a news, perhaps a satisfying one. Secluded by destiny, at least he longed for a comforting news. The gleam of moon loses its charm, its unforgettable beauty on the day of c*****e. It’s a full moon. When a person is shattered, he pines for a reassuring melody. Here, Dylan listens to the only sound prevalent in the air- the sad “song of rain”, which seems to mitigate the fire of vengeance. For Dylan, the song is unrelenting and boasts of the miseries, life can show. He abominates the melancholy in the song as of now. His misbeliefs shan’t change for a brief period until he meets with the acceptance of the obstacles in the road of life. Mr. Harrison (facing the ground, says in a heavy tone): “Your mother’s waiting, boy. They are removed. (gestures at the barricades)” “Life is unfavourable at times.”, murmurs Harrison as Dylan vamooses for his house. His eyes are renewed, refreshed to depth. His cheek muscles show superficial convulsions out of the lamenting mechanisms. As Dylan runs hurriedly, the rain and the wind try to throw him, fling him back, occluding his way. As he comes closer, his feet slow down, a sluggish walk begins. The chandelier of his parlour appears in the sky. Dylan commences to perceive the ambrosial keys of his mother’s piano. He could feel the music, its melody. Unfortunately, it was a farewell lullaby, a valediction. Dylan’s eyes get secretly moistened under the rain. A thunderbolt breaks the illusion as Dylan reaches the gate of his cursed house. It invites him with blood-ridden carpals. He is thrown into hell seeing the splintered memories of his childhood. The door screeches its way to the concomitant wall. He is stranded motionless, static at the entrance to his terribly lovely house. In the very moment of despair, with the wettest, foggiest pair of eyeballs, he sees his mom’s carcass being shouldered by unrecognized faces. Rendered immobile, Dylan shouts for clemency. Facing the truth, he couldn’t ask for a repair. His vision is blurred by the raining cats and dogs. He wasn’t courageous enough to reach out for his mother. He didn’t like a set of strangers bearing his mom. All alone, wet, hopeless, Dylan wants to be bolstered.