I stood in a corner, blending seamlessly with the darkness, staring again and again at the young woman who gave birth to me. She was lying on a bed, wiping off tears from her cheeks. The relief she felt at the moment was no doubt due to my release. The anger, grief and frustration she once felt was out of her and had taken the form of an enigmatic spirit of emotion – me.
Things like me or rather spirits like me are born when people “moved on” from strong emotions. After birth we simply wandered around for a while and then…disappeared. That was the usual story. There are exceptions and I already had enough reasons to believe that I was one.
For one, my body or…well…my form, which was like the silhouette of the young woman, was a misty violet in colour rather than black with her eyes, nose and lips drawn in a darker shade. The hair part was in a much lighter shade, fluttering about constantly behind me. All these details, in our world, meant only one thing. The person who released me wanted someone to suffer. The good news was……I had all the power I needed to wreck a person’s life. The bad news was…I knew nothing. I didn’t know anything about this girl or the kind of life she lead except for the fact that she had suffered a great deal. There was one thing I knew for sure though. The girl was a poor soul who had been hurt for something that was no fault of her’s. That was why I was who I was. A curse she unknowingly let out to destroy someone’s life. And unlike normal spirits of emotion I couldn’t fade away peacefully till I did what she desired.
“Shiva?”
A voice came from somewhere outside the dark room. The girl immediately sat up and dried her eyes furiously. Ah! So, her name is Shiva. That was a good start, knowing the name of the girl who needed my help.
“Shivani?”
The voice came again - annoyed, impatient and fussy. I knew almost instinctively that it was a mother’s voice. I could sense it. The love hidden underneath all that bossiness.
Shivani got up and strode briskly out of the dark room. She was smiling, even if it was ever so slightly. The almost serene smile sent a new surge of energy through me. Of course…As she grew calmer I grew stronger. I stood still for a minute taking in my surroundings. Oddly, the room felt dreary and suffocating. As if someone had sucked out all the happiness away. I followed her out of the room, away from the darkness and into the light.
The young woman was seated at the dining table when I saw her next. Shivani was not beautiful by any definition of the word but there was something rather appealing about her. Her eyes particularly, big and childlike, had a glint of determination that I liked instantly. Here, obviously, was a fighter. Someone who was going to pick up the shattered remains of her life and start again, no matter how painful it might be.
“Are you alright?”
A woman came from the nearby room carrying a large serving bowl. She had a sugary sweet face with kindness written all over it. I hated those kinds of faces. They were unreal, put on, when people wanted to make you feel better by lying or deliver a preachy monologue.
Shivani’s mother, I guessed even before Shivani answered.
“I feel great, Mom.”
The woman looked doubtful. Perhaps she doesn’t believe her daughter would recover from whatever she had gone through. The atmosphere in the room was chilly. I could feel helplessness and sheer desperation in the air. I shuddered. Had happiness gone on vacation?
“Don’t think about it anymore.”
“No, I won’t.”
Shivani’s voice was firm. I watched her closely as she said that trying to guess what on earth she was feeling. She couldn’t have completely gotten over whatever it was. My nature was testament to that.
The woman gazed at her daughter for a while, with unmasked pity in her eyes. Her face changed almost immediately. It became normal, more natural. She put down the bowl on the dining table and sat next to Shivani.
“I’m glad.” She almost whispered. I snorted in disbelief. She looked far from glad to me. Scared…Scared and worried. Human are odd creatures. Their words, thoughts and actions contradicted one another.
Shivani nodded, carefully avoiding her mother’s eyes.
The rest of the dinner was unremarkable. Mother served and the young woman ate. I felt so bored after five minutes that I left them and drifted into Shivani’s room. It was just as dark as it was before I left. And that suited me. We are more…er……comfortable in the darkness.
The girl followed soon after. She hadn’t much of an appetite it seemed. She turned on the light as soon as she entered, and flung herself on the bed in the middle of the room. She didn’t cry this time. Rather, she looked as if she was brooding over something unpleasant. Once again, I felt energized.
The room was a rather unremarkable affair. A typical girl’s room. Next bookshelves, desk, chair, table lamp, flower vase…I moved from one thing to another, my senses alert for important emotions attached to them. I felt a little happiness on the flower vase. The notebooks held a mixture of frustration and anger (maybe she had been upset with homework).
I was starting to feel pretty frustrated myself when I came across a diary. It was a pretty book with a beautiful red rose on its cover, not exactly suited to my tastes but maybe it had been good enough for Shivani. But the emotion I could sense in it was far from beautiful. Hatred – flaming hatred- blazed in some parts of it. Sorrow equally intense filled the rest.
I raised my hand and touched it, willing myself to see inside the pages of the diary. Thrill and excitement flooded me. I was about to get my answers.
But the sense of triumph did not remain for too long. All I could see was a small amount of blank pages. And sorry remains of torn out pages. Ugh!
I felt the previous sense of frustration return with a vengeance. What was this? A desperate attempt to get rid of memories by erasing physical remainders?
A shrill noise filled the air. I looked around. It was coming from the Shivani’s cellphone. The girl looked at the display screen for a while, her eyes curiously devoid of any emotion. I felt a kind intense curiosity…Something interesting was going on. I wanted badly to travel to the other end of the phone line, to see the person who had this sort of effect on my…well…I guess I must call her my creator.
The girl pressed the flashing green button. Her eyes, still blank, had a spark of anger, hatred and…I felt a bit uneasy. Murder was one thing I wouldn’t have associated with Shivani. But for a moment I saw it in her eyes.
“Yes…I know…I saw it.”
Her voice too was controlled and calm. I didn’t like it at all. When people suppressed too much and looked like they didn’t care…Things weren’’t too likely to end well for anyone.
I touched the phone and gasped. The amount spite travelling through it was intolerable. Humans…How can they be so horrible. I mean…In our world, we wouldn’t hurt our own kind. Nor did we speak in this sort of honeyed voice that hid ill feelings underneath it.
“Oh I know you saw it…But I wanted to invite you personally. I’m sure Nandan would wish me to do it.”
I felt like vomiting. All that the hateful person at the other end of the line wanted was Shivani’s tears. But she wasn’t going to get it. Shivani may have been a complete weakling before, I don’t know. But now, she was stronger and a lot wiser.
“I have nothing more to do with Nandan. Whatever happened between us…That’s over.”
Shivani pressed her hand rapidly on the red button of her cellphone. Tears glistened in her eyes but she blinked them away. One again I had that vague disturbing feeling. Murder was lingering in the air. But why? I had to find out. And if possible, I had to stop this girl from ruining her own life by taking another’s.
While I was drifting around absently, deep in thought, Shivani switched off the light and settled down on her bed. I watched her silhouette for a while, lit up a tiny bit by the light coming from the living room.
Pretty soon the living room lights clicked off. I saw her mother retire to a room nearby. As I had nothing better to do, I followed her. She was, I noticed, fat and ungainly with a mop of rough hair. Not the kind of woman who had had an easy time in life. In fact, to me, it looked like she had tortured herself pretty hard for a few days.
“I wish I knew what to do…”
I heard the woman whisper with a sigh as she turned off the lights. The air was pungent with worry and…a deep sense of bitterness. I could imagine a younger version of this woman, pacing around in this room, her sighs and moans unheard. It was not a pleasant picture. For a moment I wondered if I could do something to make her life a bit easier.
The cool night air blew in throw an open window at the other end. Outside, the world was enticingly calm and quiet. I smiled a bit at the irony. Humans considered themselves the most important in this world. Yet, earth was at its most peaceful when they were asleep. That, in my opinion, made them look like rather rude house guests.
I made my way across the room and drifted out through the open window. It was a dark moonless night. A few stars twinkled in the sky. Perhaps they were looking down and enjoying all the weird drama going on below.
I flew up and up. The houses, the humongous constructions that humans are so proud of, became the size of matchboxes. Trees became green coloured patches. Roads merely curly black lines. It was a rather enjoyable experience. Stupendous! A sight to behold! Things like this have made us spirits unconcerned about fading away. We know how insignificant existence is. How truly small one’s position on earth is.
A roaring wind shattered the serene face of the night. Before my astonished eyes, many beings like me rose from the ground. Not ordinary spirits, who are as black as the night, but the exceptions. All brilliantly coloured forms – Violet, Indigo, Blue, Green, Yellow, Orange, Red.
The Violets, like me, are the curses in the spirit world, special because only the truly innocent and pure hearted can create us. We are granted several exceptional powers so as to do what our creators wish. Some of us may become eternal wanderers – a cruel punishment for not finishing our mission. Now, some humans may find the idea of immortality appealing. But for us, its tragedy. Who wants to float around till the end of the world, without friend or foe, lonely and dejected? Not me!
The Indigos are the unfortunate tragedians among the spirits. The weaklings of our world created by the weakest of the weak. I do not say so because I’m unkind. I’m merely speaking the truth. These clowns, who have remarkable powers of their own, are born when people who have been deeply hurt by someone forgives that person and moves on past their sadness. But what are the use of powers if one can’t use them properly? They actually have to make life better for the person who caused their creator a lot of pain. When the person forgiven becomes happy, just as their creator wishes, they can disappear peacefully. Pah! How can anyone be so much of a doormat as to create these things!
The Blues are as cold and insensitive as they look. They are the products of depression…perhaps the most unpleasant and suffocating disease among human kind. Being what I am, I don’t know how it is supposed to feel but I can easily guess. A crushing empty feeling……All the candles of hope and happiness extinguished. How can anyone overcome it? That, I don’t know. What I do know is this. These blues are released when people finally recover from this terrible affliction. And they don’t like to be released. They would have preferred to live inside the creators…feeding on everything happy and good till their unfortunate victim becomes irrecoverably mad…I shudder when I think about them. They aren’t things I want inside me and I’m sure these humans wouldn’t like it either. What makes these despicable things special are their unique ability to shadow the people who released them… and stab them with icy hands of hopelessness whenever the poor things are forced to remember bad times. Since depression takes a long while to truly fade away, the Blues have a long time on earth. They make full use of it too…their sadistic natures rejoicing in tormenting their creators.
I would rather not speak about the Greens. They are the most loathsome and foul creatures known to our kind - Proud boastful things who think themselves the best of us. They are born when people move past jealousy. Now, that’s a good thing on the surface…but humans never really get rid of jealousy. It is a feeling so deeply embedded in their psyche that it is impossible to be free of it. They may call it a deadly sin, the most ignoble feeling blah blah blah… but in deepest, most secret portion of their heart, jealousy is their closest friend. It always hovers around them, in the form of these creatures like toxic smoke. They have the power to possess and poison the thoughts of generations…a terrible power that enables them to survive even after their creator’s death. In a simpler language, it makes them immortal. I would have said they deserved the lonesome wanderings that accompanied immortality…But I can’t. Because these things don’t have to wander around aimlessly after all. They have a lot to entertain them. There are dramas to stir up, fights to provoke and relationships to break up…They disgust me…They disgust me so much that I want to utterly destroy them from the very bottom of my heart.
On a more cheerful note though, there are the Yellows. These quirky, witty things are the brightest and happiest of all creatures. Human beings can sometimes experience an insane kind of happiness- the ‘top of the world’ feeling’’. It’s rather like a drug and fades away too quickly leaving behind these enthusiastic creatures, who hang around for a few days, radiating a sparkly, glittery kind of good feeling. I suppose they can be called the sisters of the Blues for they work exactly like them. But unlike the blues the Yellows induce a sense of hopefulness and joy in their creators when they revel in some praise or when they reminisce about the excellent times. One can compare them with lightening – they flash brilliant sparks of happiness for a while and fade away as quickly as they are born. Humans are rather unfortunate if you ask me. I mean…pleasure passes all too rapidly for them while grief remains with them for a long, long while.
The Oranges for the most part are harmless. There are some human who are as hot as fire. I mean, they explode in anger for the teeniest tiniest reasons often intimidating the others around them. But the truth is…as I know quite well…these people are the least likely to do lasting harm. They never hold grudges. Their ‘wicked temper’ is like their shield, protecting them against the undesirable ideas of revenge, ‘teaching lessons’’ and all the other horrible things human do to one another. Now, these Oranges are born when such humans cool down. They make the atmosphere around them rather stuffy, more prone to arguments but that’s all. No other side effects. When the outburst of fury was forgotten by all parties involved……they could leave the earth.
The last and perhaps the most dangerous of us all…the Reds. They are, if I may say so, a more intense version of the Oranges. They are grudge, hatred and fury rolled into one. The instigators of revenge, murders, fights and abuses. Just before a vile deed is done, as the wife stares hard at her abusive husband, as a murder victim gazes at the killer, seething with hatred and fear, Reds are born. What are their powers? Ah! They have the uncanny ability to mess with people’s mind…Mostly, these things find a most willing victim in the families of their creators. And the vicious cycle goes on and one and more Reds are born. Humans often talk about something called ‘ripple effect. Little do they know about the true cause of this phenomenon…
As I looked around I noticed that there was an excess of Greens around me. Not surprising but it did make me uncomfortable. Some of them turned towards me, making mocking noises. One among them, in the form of a tall slender woman drifted towards me.
“I thought Violets didn’t exist anymore…” she purred, “Who on earth created you? At this day and age too…”
The words stung. Sure, I’m not exactly the greatest fan of Shivani but I liked her…At least she had enough backbone to go with her life…however bad it was.
“If there weren’t people with the capacity to create us, I shudder to think what would happen to this world. I mean, would a world full of poisonous green smoke be pleasant to live in? ”
I replied cheerfully. The Greens around me stirred up angrily but I didn’t care. We can’t really hurt one another. No fights…No epic battles…… nothing!
“I assure you I don’t care about your poor little creator. Who does…”
“You are right. You don’t need to care about my creator or what she wants me to do. That business is mine and mine alone. Unless you intend to help…keep off!””
Before she could say anything more, I descended rapidly to Shivani’s home. Not because I’m a coward but because I had better things to do. I couldn’t simply waste my time arguing with these incarnations of spite.
The house was in darkness. I entered through the same window I had exited through. The first sound that greeted me was the snores of Shivani’s mother. It was a rather unpleasant sound – hoarse and low. I wondered whether she was ill……She certainly looked it. I left through the open door and entered Shivani’s room. There were no snores there. She was awake, no doubt about it. What was she thinking about? I wished I knew…
Suddenly Shivani sobbed hard. I noticed that her hand was clutched tightly around something. It looked like a book. A thick book. Was she sobbing over a book? Of course, there are people who do so but Shivani…Somehow she didn’t look like that type to me.
I jumped across her bed and reached the other tide. Slowly, I touched the book in Shivani’s hand. I thought I’d see pages and pages of literary writing or perhaps difficult academic text but no…It was a…
I saw a page full of red circles, blue squares and yellow triangles. I saw lots of A’s, B’s, C’s and D’s etc…In a flash, I realized what she was holding. It was a felt book or a quiet book, as these humans called it. But what was Shivani doing with it? Such things belonged to a toddler not a woman in her early twenties. I sank wearily onto the floor. My mind was in a whirl. Had Shivani a child? No…There wasn’t one in the house.
I touched the book again, this time trying to decipher the emotions attached to it. A scorching heat licked my hand, burning and hurting me.
“What in the world!” I cried out, withdrawing my hand. Burning grief…Not a common thing but there it was. Attached to a toddler book.
I stared at Shivani. A nagging doubt came to my mind. Was the child…A little toddler perhaps dead? Oh dear…I wished it wasn’t……An odd feeling, remarkably like an electric bolt ran through me. It seemed I had found a very good reason for murder. Poor Shiva. I hoped she would hesitate before doing anything rash.
To be published on August 1 for Amazon Kindle
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