Friday, August 03, 2012

7.3 - the melting point of wax



se7en is a collection of seven random stories, narrations or conversations as you may like to call them (or whatever suits you or the entire world). They are conversations between the known and the unknown, the real and the surreal, the living and the dead.

Each of them may or may not be followed or preceded by a song of their own. All opinions, expressed if any, are fictitious and are not really meant to harm anyone’s psychology. That is beyond the scope of the rubbish here..

There is no discounting. There is no return. No, i wouldn't want it that way.

They are everywhere i go. They are always in my head. They feel like a burden i can never rid myself of.

They are the we of me..


3. the melting point of wax


I stared at the kite lying on the table. She had asked me to get it some time ago. And today was the day that it was here. And maybe today would be the day when it would soar high

Ruya had a very feeble body and heart since her birth. She grew up on a ventilator than in a cradle. We were single, loving and content with what we had. He uncanny sense of optimism was extremely annoying and did not align with my realism or maybe it was the other way round and I didn’t notice when the exchange took place. Ruya was smart. She was intelligent and very observant. She was a genius for whom life did not know a fitting end.

I had adopted her 7 years ago. She was 13 now.  I was single and didn’t want to embrace the institution of marriage. I didn’t want it. There was no sense of love or belonging in it for me. I never loved what I saw. I always saw what I loved. I wanted someone to take care of and by the way my life had lived itself out, that’s what I did any which way.  One could call it a sense of misplaced co-dependency or some fanciful fucked up psychological name, it didn’t bother me; nomenclature was good till I was 27. Ruya was someone I really loved. Ruya was someone I had wanted. I needed her more than she did.

She had been volatile lately, both physically and emotionally. And her volatility had transferred over to me. I was beginning to be an emotional wreck. The painful yet surreal journey was nearing its end. Actually, it had reached its end. Our love and hope was prolonging it. It was like the dying flame of the candle running out on the wick with its bottom sunk in a small pool of molten wax. As the wax solidified, so did the inevitability of the realization. And yet she was very much in control of things. She laughed as if nothing happened or mattered. She smiled. She talked. She never cried maybe because she didn’t know the feeling of not being in pain. Someone in perpetual pain could never tell comfort from otherwise. I failed to tell her calm acceptance from ignorance of the matter. Everything about her bothered me now. Her calmness, composure, disposition stung me to the bone. Of course, I did not mention it to her voluntarily.

She got off from her bed and took the kite and string with her to the balcony. We had a huge studio apartment which I believe she really liked. It had everything in it just like his. I could hear tyler durden's inner voice..

like so many others, i had become a slave to the Ikea nesting instinct. anything clever...like a coffee table in the shape of a yin-yang, i had to have it.
the Klipsk personal office unit.
the Hovetrekke home exerbike or the Ohamshab sofa with the Strinne green stripe pattern. even the Ryslampa wire lamps of environmentally-friendly unbleached paper.

i'd flip through catalogs and wonder...
"what kind of dining set defines me as a person?"


i had it all. even the glass dishes with tiny bubbles and imperfections...proof that they were crafted by the honest, hard-working, indigenous peoples of...wherever.


we used to read pornography.

now it was the Horchow collection.

 She never complained about it. If she did not like it, she would have mentioned it to me. I am sure she would have. I would have noticed that. She was my mother, my sister, my lover and my little girl. She was particularly frail today and her frock was the perfect prop. She had limped over to the balcony and propped against the boundary walls. She had read and watched enough videos of kids flying kites. She was going to fly it and I was certain that she would. She would have already checked the wind direction and speed

I sat on the chair leaning forward with elbows on my knees. I was placid as if I knew everything, took a deep puff and exhaled out slowly. Did you know that the direction of smoke being blown out of one’s mouth indicated the mental disposition of the person at that moment? She knew it. She had told me about it. If it was upward, one was optimistic and if downward, it was the opposite. What lay in between was passive aggressive bullshit..

I inhaled again and flicked the cigarette ash in my palm, slowly rubbing it into ashes. I glanced towards the balcony and saw the kite up in the air, soaring in every direction it could. The girl needed some sense of direction in her life. I thought about it and chuckled. Soon the kite found the will to fly just like she wanted it to and it soared high. She was very liberal with the thread. She wanted it to reach the end maybe where the birds were. For a thirteen year old, she had a distinctive philosophy and poetry towards life.  I watched her tight lip expression loosening into a curve very slowly. I watched every moment of that transition. The moment had come. I got up quickly and moved towards her. She turned to look at me and smiled. It was a momentary lapse of everything between us. It was vacuum.

The world went on but we stopped

We were too fast for them.

We were beyond their fuckin’ experience.

We froze for us.

I disengaged from the transient and so did she.

The thread had reached its end..

She let go of it.

And the thread let go of her..

                         

human kind can not gain anything without first giving something in return. in order to obtain, something of equal value must be lost. that is alchemy's first law of equivalent exchange.

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