A creature of habit

The turbulent river showed no signs of relenting. It violently made its way downstream, smashing itself with vengeful intent against the banks that confined it and the rocks that had the misfortune of being in its way. The crowd that had gathered under the shade of the apple tree by the riverbank had their eyes fixed at a spot. Some of them pointed animatedly towards something particular along the course of the water-body; others spoke in ominous hushes that betrayed signs of anxiety.

A man, curiously drawn towards the large gathering, came by to inspect the cause. He was known to be of noble descent, bred with strong, unbending morals and of athletic finesse. He surveyed the landscape ahead and he could make nothing of it.. until he saw it too!

The gruesome spectacle was unmistakable. Caught in the clutches of the current was a definitive, writhing mass of life that appeared to be bleeding. Its vain struggle against the downstream current was futile.

“Is it a man?” remarked a bystander. “What difference does it make? He is a goner he is!” muttered another. “How about we cast a line of sorts?” suggested a third. “Nay, it’d drag the whole lot of us along!” hushed a fourth.

The man had heard enough. After having shot the most despicable and condescending of stares at the throng, he began to strip to his waist-cloth; all of it in an attempt to fight the tide and save the person heading to his certain death. Exclamations of alarm went up among the people – “Lad, you don’t have to do this!” “You cannot save him. The water Gods will not relent.” “Certainly, you value your life more than this absurdity!?” The man silenced them all with a gesture and spoke in an earthy baritone – “His death will not be by my inaction”. Having said thus, he took a mighty, precise plunge into the cold river.

The audience gradually grew in number as word got around the hamlet about a certain aristocrat who was off his chump. The river banks flooded with people, both young and old alike, to watch a daring act of bravery, the likes of which they had never witnessed in a long time. They were quite fearful yet fascinated by the strokes his sinewy body made – not a breath wasted, he covered almost three quarters of the distance towards the being held against its own will in a vile flow.

The man entered red waters. The bleeding was rather profound as the clear streams were now murky. Upon gaining proximity, he realized two things with a rather compelling sense of horror – firstly, the prey was much larger than its rescuer. Secondly, the creature was a wounded bear! 

The folly of his bravado dawned late on him.The shocked creature clung onto the man in a state of panic and desperation, sinking its claws into his back and arms in the hopes of getting a foothold to secure lands... the man screamed in agony!

The bear was agitated beyond reason by now. In a flash, it chewed off the man’s face and climbed onto his limp corpse momentarily as his form spouted more blood. Within moments, the bear saw the end of the stream at a waterfall. In its final moments, it grabbed the dead body in a tight hug and soon disappeared with a long and distant growl. A distinct thud signaled the ending of the growl.

The multitude were too stunned to react. For a few minutes, nobody spoke until one of them broke the uneasy silence – "He was a good lad he was. Valour was his vice."

“Ah well, he didn’t know any better than what could get him killed. May he find peace.” Having muttered thus, the crowd disappeared into a sunset haze of melancholy.    

(This story was narrated to me by my Grandmother when I was rather little. Never quite understood it back then but as with all good things in life, it made better sense with time. She remarked that all vices of the world were synonymous with the bear and that fools have always found it hard to resist the challenge it presented to them. 

Damn!)   

A Journey of Self Discovery

Once upon a time, there was a Mirror. From the looks of it, the Mirror felt that it was a part of a Hotel lobby. The wall across it had oil paintings strung up on a burgundy wallpaper while the ceiling was golden from an array of ambient lighting. It liked the way the paintings looked though it could never tell what they meant or stood for. Beneath the Mirror, was a flower vase, the flowers of which would be carefully selected and changed everyday. The Mirror did not know this for sure. It made assumptions based on the fragrance that wafted about itself everyday at 6 am along with a man dressed in a uniform of black, white and maroon with neatly combed hair and white gloves. The man would then leave after cleaning the Mirror.
Every day and every night, it would see people come to look at it and leave satisfied or determined; it was usually the women who fell under the latter. As was customary, people would stare intently at it for long minutes, alter their poise and posture, adjust their clothing or jewelry, comb their hair and check their teeth, or even have a conversation with themselves which usually were a couple of sentences repeated in varying phonetics and tones, perfected until they bore a smug grin on their faces. The Mirror never understood but found all of this amusing nevertheless. The Mirror, however, held a desire in its heart from a very long time. If only it knew how it looked like....
One fine day, the Mirror made a resolution. Summoning all the courage it could muster, it jumped off the confinement of the Nail on the wall and landed safely on the soft carpeted floor. It looked up to see where it used to be and saw an oval patch of rich, untouched burgundy wallpaper. Beneath it was a small black vase on a table with freshly cut roses in it, the morning dew still fresh on them. The Mirror was happy. Stealthily, it made its way to the exit of the building. There would be no returning.
Nothing could prepare the Mirror for the onslaught of sensations that it was about to experience. It saw creatures of many shapes and forms and even heard their cacophony of sounds, a little too overbearing from the solitude it came from. The air was filled with the smell of roses the Mirror would experience every morning, only this time it was richer! The Mirror felt a layer of aerosols cling to its surface but did not make any attempts to fight the discomfort from it.The ground beneath it felt cool even though the breeze was warm and moist. An uneasy tread around the surroundings made the Mirror realize that it was in a Garden. Beyond the Garden's tall perimeter was a lot of noise and huge metal containers spewing an ugly smog. There were a lot of men and women too, some on foot and some inside these containers. The Mirror paid no heed to it. It was on a quest after all, free at last.
The Mirror saw something curious. In the center of the garden was a fountain that spouted water serenely. Perched by its side was a nervous and shifty sparrow drinking from it, facing a shimmering copy of itself on the surface of the flowing water. The sparrow seemed unaware of this phenomenon of reflection but the Mirror was fascinated by it. Slowly, it made its way towards the fountain. The surge of excitement it felt was immense. Just a little further..
The Mirror inquisitively studied the perimeter of the medieval fountain in the hopes of finding a foothold amongst the stone slabs. Gently, it began the climb, careful not to scrape itself against the treacherous surface of the Stone or fall prey to the slime on them from being damp for centuries. That would not end well it guessed. The water was close by.. the Mirror sensed it. Was this sensation called Anxiety? the Mirror thought for a fleeting second..
The water fell from a height of over five meters in a smooth cascade. It was surprisingly cold. The Mirror stood agape in wonder, taking in all that it could. However, what it saw did not make any sense at all. In a watery canvas that depicted the beautiful garden with all its flowers and green, birds and trees, the center of it all seemed to contain an oval, misfitting illusion. It showed a grey, lack-luster movement. A gradual sense of despair began to sink into The Mirror. The Fountain had tricked it. What it witnessed was a smaller version of the Fountain's pride - its tranquil torrent of water! There was no sign of the Mirror's identity! To the sentient Fountain, the Mirror simply did not exist!
Wrecked with dejection and disbelief, the Mirror made an attempt to flee. It simply could not come to terms with the fact that it did not look specific; that it had no definitive double of itself like that of the sparrow. In its anguish, it overlooked a small discontinuity amidst the continuum of the circular wall of stone around the Fountain.
The impact did not last long. The Mirror fell into the crevice and landed against the heavy and jagged opposition of the stone. Lines capable of divisiveness spiderwebbed along the surface of the Mirror, tearing its existence into several pieces. The Mirror experienced pain and horror at the transformation. In a split second, it could see the sky with its clouds, the stony wall as well as the blue tiled flooring of the Fountain, the multiple drainage vents with tiny black outlets and even traces of the grass growing alongside the Fountain. The information was overwhelming. However, amidst all of this visual chaos, the Mirror saw something... something that flushed it with a sense of achievement.
In its new found, compound vision, the mirror saw a nasty shard of itself. It was grey and black along the sides while the surface was smooth and clean. In its liquid grave, it reflected the sun's brilliance. The Mirror fixed its gaze on the Shard lovingly.. longingly..
The Mirror was finally at peace.