Then he said, “Now that you’ve seen your destiny, you may go to the hut at the base of the hill. Your task starts tomorrow at 4 a.m. The Kingdom of Regina wishes you all the very best, sincerely, for your task. May you win!” Juan bowed deeply in reverence to the King and the Assembly. Then he bowed separately to the Princess and took his leave, smiling tongue-in-cheek. So only a month remained to be united with that spunky and beautiful damsel. Not much! He could do anything for her! Even get the sun and moon for her! He would eagerly await the next morn!
Juan spent a restless night and finally got up from his hard, home-spun charpoy to finish his ablutions. He looked at his dear old mother’s weather-beaten face and smiled at the thought of how happy she had been and wept tears of joy at his selection for the test. Though she was scared and wanted no bodily harm to befall her only son, she knew that he’d have never been truly happy, had she dissuaded him from venturing on that dangerous odyssey. Hence she had smiled through her tears and blessed him whole-heartedly, clasping him to her bosom as if she’d never let him go. Juan desperately wanted to clear the test for his dear mother who had weathered many a storm to bring him up after his father’s untimely demise.
He had slipped and hurt his head while clearing a ditch in their farm, of the muck that had accumulated in it due to the previous night’s cyclone in which their humble thatched hut and their farm had taken a severe battering. Juan was a tender two-year old infant then and not grasped the full import of having had to lead a fatherless life. He’d never know the pleasures of hunting for wild boars under his father’s expert guidance nor fishing for salmon in the rapids, aided by his able father! Most important, he was like a rudderless ship in the storm of his hardship-filled life, with no guiding star.
Throughout his life, his mother had been his guardian angel, helping him through his anxious childhood and turbulent, angst-filled youth.
He had been a small and thin child, always hungry and always tired. The elder boys in the hamlet would bully him mercilessly throughout the day and even thrash him just to feel good about themselves and their power over that mite! His mother would chide him and urge him for his cowardice when he returned home crying, to take to more ‘manly’ activities like shooting and carpentry. She made him row through the rapids in a canoe, with him on her knee and taught him every skill, be it archery, shooting, swimming, rock-climbing, hunting, fishing or the like.
Every day she’d remind him, “Be a man, son. Be a man. I don’t want a wimp for my son. Besides, you’ve to make your father up there proud of his only son and do whatever he’d have wanted you to do and be; had he been alive!”
‘A sudden growling in her stomach made her uneasy.’ As soon as she wrote these words, Martha realized that that was how she was feeling. She was famished and her poor tummy was protesting from that self-imposed, uncalled for fast! She glanced at the clock and saw with a start that it was way past midnight. Her front door was open and the chill breeze was blowing about all the loosely placed objects in her room. The newspaper’s pages and supplements were strewn about the entire place and dried leaves and feathers had flitted inside from her small garden.
It was a dark and moonless night. Shivering in the eeriness of the atmosphere, she hastened to close the door. She thought she saw Juan out there preparing for his expedition. Then she laughed nervously as she realized that he was her story’s hero, a character from her piece of fiction and gulped her nervousness. “Look what happens when one starves herself unnecessarily,” she scolded herself and went into the kitchen to rustle a meal for her self.
To her dismay, she discovered that her freezer only held some pears and a pitcher of milk. Her oven was cold and empty. She’d forgotten to bake her bread and not shopped for groceries, as she had intended to do that evening. Well she now had her story’s hero and heroine to thank for her starvation! She heated the entire milk in a pan, drank it and then finished off her spartan dinner with slices of pears.
While walking back to her writing desk, she passed by the ornate mirror hung on the wall above the wash-basin and froze! Sara was looking back at her from the mirror. Twinkling blue eyes winked at her and rose-bud lips smiled to reveal perfect, small teeth. Recovering from the shock, Martha realized that it was her reflection that had been staring at her from her mirror. She had unwittingly modeled her heroine after herself! But wait a minute! Her hair was just shoulder-length. Her heroine’s swept right to her knees. And the visage in the mirror had had long flowing hair!
Just to be sure that her mind was not playing tricks, Martha looked once again into the mirror and saw Sara once again, smiling impishly at her, as if she was playing hide and seek with her! She looked at the hair of her heroine. Long, undoubtedly. Then she told the visage, “Oh, I’m sorry, the longer I delay writing my story, the longer you’re apart from your beloved, right! I now know that both of you, Juan and yourself are eager to have a happy ending and live happily-ever-after!”
When she settled back comfortably on her upholstered chair, she muttered “But I really don’t know whether I’m writing a fairy-tale with a happy ending or a tragedy like the Titanic! In that case, dearies, you’ll be disappointed! I guess, you’ll just have to be patient and wait till I finish my story. It may take me hours, days, months or even the next few minutes! When she imagined both Juan and Sara frowning in disapproval, she chuckled and winked.
She was reminded of her editor in her earliest days of writing. He’d look at her piece, then at her, from over his narrow glasses perched low on his huge nose and frown to show his disapproval. She didn’t need to hear any words from him in criticism. She’d just quickly snatch her piece from his littered table, and make good her escape. These days, she didn’t give him any chance for criticism! Her writing was perfect. Her stories always had appropriate endings, sometimes sad, sometimes happy. She’d write as per the dictates of the story not as per the dictates of the characters in her stories!
So there! Sara and Juan, I can’t guarantee that you’ll live happily ever-after. You may. Then again, you may not! She imagined Juan and Sara scowling at her, just then, their handsome faces, twisted beyond imagination. She shuddered and started writing. She’d at least try to ensure that they remained as beautiful as ever. After all, who loved to read about less than perfect heroes and heroines, who were lovers!
She began writing, softly smiling to herself…..
The copyright of this novel is with Mrs. Priya Ramesh Swaminathan.
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