Guten Rutsch Ins Neue Year

One Astronomical Unit is the distance between the earth and the sun and that’s nearly 92 billion miles distance between them. A habitable zone for any life to survive and lucky enough to form! Every year planet earth dive into space and time creating seasons and phenomena that at least described as awe! Life and death; summer and winter; young and old and trillions of points amidst them!

I can only compare a year as a rollercoaster with all its ups and down! You may think you have seen the love of your parents but then discover that you only knew the shades of their love! You may feel that you hate a person only to find that at the boundary of your hate lies an unconditional love! And a small deed can multiply more than the greatest multiplicand!

I don’t believe in the New Year resolutions. I’ve never had or will! The time to correct yourself is at any given point! You can stop hating at any point or help a person at any time. You may choose to forgive tomorrow or even at this very moment!

Remember that it’s not too late to change your financial situation or even addictive behavior! Remember those who are less fortunate and do not wait until the earth reaches at the beginning of a line that you could lend him a helping hand! Remember, the prism stratifies the colour of hopes.  And as the German’s say Hope you have a good sliding (in the snow) in the New Year or Guten Rutsch ins Neue Year

Slavery of a Freeman

In his arrogance, he though he could enslave me with his gold. Throwing a pocket of gold into the air, he bought an hour of my rest for hard labour! In his idiocy, he thought my sleep was for sale.

The market was infested with buyers and sellers. Good citizen of Rome and foreigners from as far as China.

The pocket flew on air sprinkling some gold on the ground. My hair rose straight, head burned hot, tears streamed out of my eyes. I am slave to this ruthless, stingy capitalist! Rome has its rule but like any worthless rules of any other city, they are written and not forced or  practiced! I wondered about those leaders who feigned being just and loved by people! Have they passed through the alleys of their markets where their portraits hanged at every corner! Have they witnessed the citizen as they were mistreated, or do they just write false story their success!

The pocket of gold fell onto my nose! I knew I was a slave! Slave not of his money! I have labored not for him but for me! Unlike of those who were sold and bought in the market, I knew I had an option. But rejection would mean sleeping for an hour but a step backward! It would jeopardize my mark! I was Slave, I was certain, not of him but to my needs!

He was a master of an hour and the day! Perhaps the master of the month and that follows it. But I am a free man. For a little while, he could use me as his slave undeterred not by the rules of Rome, Mercy or Humanity. But for the same rime I would use him as a tool for reaching my intent undeterred by his ruthlessness, misery and arrogance! I was not his slave but slave of my need and that is slavery of a free man!

Portraits of Pain

The heaven rumbled and scowled dark. The rocks rained her body incessantly, on her chest, knee and loin, one hitting her nose, second herburning breast and the third narrowly missing her ear. Blindfolded and handcuffed, she was tied tightly on a thick wood with a serpent-thick rope. She didn’t know if she would die of pain or thirst or aggregate of pain and thirst. Sporadic stones fell from everywhere. Apart from blood, she could now smell death.

She opened her eyes. A wrinkled, freckled, hazel-eyed woman beheld her. She was in her hut. The flames spread across the wood in the furnace, the rain knocked hard on the window and whipped the ground and the roof.
“Breath in, then breath out and push hard” encouraged the woman “C’mon. Courage”

As she breath out and screamed, the heaven lashed the hut even harder and violently knocked the window. And with a thundering growl that nearly silenced her screams. The heaven illuminated the hut white.  Thousand lash fell into every inch of her body. Everything went dark. Everything darkened save the wailing of a baby.

She opened her eyes, there were blur images of an aged woman with a doll. The fire danced merrily at the furnace chewing the woods greedily. She could nearly see the oak tree’s leaves orchestrated by the zephyr. The rain now hardly tinkled the window. The moon pushed away the clouds and peeped into the window watching a new creation of nature.

She carefully carried her baby. Tears of joy streamed from her eyes, rubbed her nose with that of the baby. He was very beautiful and she smelt her lover smell in him.  She rocked him gently for a while and then brought him close to her breast, he suckled greedily. Milk flew like a river into his tiny mouth. A capricious fear and worry encompassed her. What if she is not feeding him in a right manner? What if he cried now? What if he gets sick now? What if she becomes a bad mother? Questions barraged her out of nowhere.

The days where veiled with nights, a strong lamp with twinkling dots and nights into seasons that painted the hut between the two large mountain and the beautiful plain. Now the oak tree turned even greener, the grasses flooded the ground and flowers colonised the plain. Busy bee would move between the flowers and scent of peace prevail the land. The breeze would orchestrate the leaves, grass-blades and flowers. Occasionally, a cluster of wooden houseflies would appear between the clouds heading to and fro. It would accompany sound of big explosion.

She had big dreams for the boy. She was sure that he will resemble his father. That he would bring a a beautiful bride in days of peace and that she would see her love story in him.

Autumn arrived; the oak tree leaves turned red and brown. Winds blew wider. Then came a day when the oak tree shed it leaves. This night she decided to cover her child with more clothes. His cradle was moved further from the window. The stars were dimly lit and the moon was red. She couldn’t sleep and tossed in her bed shifting gaze from the cradle to the moon. Her heart beat hard.

The winds blew ice-cold air, the stars vanished and an owl perched on the oak. It was an emissary of no-mortal Visitor as ancient as the heaven and earth. The grass froze and the door burst open as He headed to the cradle. She screamed into consciousness.  The moon peeped into the window white, the stars danced ligher and darker in the sky. An owl perched a branch. She ran to her beloved. He seems to have gone into deep peaceful sleep with a reassuring face. Her heart nearly skipped a beat but she was reassured with his face. She sat on her bed, waiting for the sun to rise. It did…the most magnificent sun rise she had ever seen.

She headed out and did her chorus. Relieved that it was only a nightmare, she was brightened with the visit of the freckled, wrinkled woman. They chatted and chatted. But she couldn’t stop gazing at the cradle anticipating his cry or crawl. Today, she will feed him by her hand. She would hear the first ‘Mama’ from him she was convinced. And today, she will get to smell her lover again and see his dark eyes again. He will be naughty when he grow she promised herself and would bring her a beautiful bride like she is. But the baby did not wake up. He had the same peaceful, reassuring face on his cradle.

She went to inspect him. He was ice-cold and his heart did not beat anymore. The area fell into dead silence. She placed the baby back into the cradle and walked outside the hut. She wanted to run, fly and jump all at once. She wanted to burn the world and toss it upside-down. She felt imprisoned in big deceptive world that promises but rarely fulfilling. She wanted to cry but not tear fell from her eyes.  Heart tormented, she wanted to jump from the highest cliff but a shred of intelligence penetrated into her emotion. She ran back to her love and embraced him tightly. Rubbed her nose with her beloved's, tears streamed and this time felt on the lifeless beautiful creation. She sobbed like a baby and hugged him again. It was the most beautiful portrait of pain painted by the nature.

Scent of temptation

Her light blue eyes were set on me. Her golden bangle was very close to rosy drink filled in the Flûte à Champagne and Her left hand supported her oval-shaped face. I was amazed by her elegance, beauty and passion ever since I was introduced to her by her brother

After she sipped her drink and placed the snifter on the table, she started to rub my hand very gently as she slithered her slender leg into mine.  It felt excruciatingly good. A part of her golden french-braided bun hair unhooked from her ear and shyly covered a part of her light blue eyes.  

There was a dead silence as if everything in the inn went into voiceless scream. I could hear the sound of my heart and smell the strong scent of her temptation.

“Give into it” A sly soft voice said “it feels really good both at once”

“What about your own codes and principles” said another resolute and callous “Will you just give it up for a moment? You will regret the rest of your wretched life”

“Why do you fight good things?” said the first “experiment it! Just a sip”

“Go ahead” said the determined voice now more ruthless  “Go and taste it. Imbecile, you went through hell few months ago, out of your control at least it was so. Tomorrow you will go through another hell… but you will remember that you could avert it...Do you know what is it called? Conscience.”

Now I had the strength to state a sharp “No” but she felt it. So she came closer and closer to my head. I could see her beautifully sculpted neck and her fine clavicle. She smelt more tempting than ever before and started rubbing her soft cheeks against mine delicately which burnt lava hot.

“Come on” she whispered lovingly “Stop being mommy’s little obedient boy and be my gentleman. A sip will not hurt. You may not like the smell but when its warmth rubs in your throat. You will love it”

“No” I rejected firmly “I can’t. I will not go against my own principles that I’ve vowed”

At the same time a strong manly hand hit my shoulder unexpectedly. As I turned back, I realised it was her brother.

“So what new plots are you two forging against me” He asked carelessly signaling to a waiter as he sat next to his sister and opposite to me.

“Well” she said “Your friend and I had a bit private conversation. He wants two daughters and an adopted son. I want two boys and a girl. You see he fits being father for my kids”

I gave a forced funny smile and I expected his normal comment to come. Needless to say, I was glad it finished the way I wanted!