A Promise Fulfilled

A plentiful river, an even beautiful breeze, glorious hues of sunset and hoards of homegoing birds. This was an evening, from dusk to nightfall. Some spare moments of silence spoiled by noisy music of the day and a ride to remember. As one watched the lighthouses gleam reflections on the river sparingly, I kept observing the birds. Seagulls, perhaps. How mighty were their movements, how controlled speed and what sharp turns -- the grey of their wings contrasting with the orange of their beaks, almost as if in a conspiracy with the sunrays. They were returning to the greenest verge and with the little light remaining, the whites seemed like blossoms on the verge. They were home. I was away. I am.

Stars were visible, in plenty. And as I tried counting how many, I noticed a fleet of birds come in from the other direction, along with the westward wind. Their whites were a little blurred, hazy. And they resembled shapes in the sky. First, a dinosaur, then a giraffe and finally a snake, floating amongst the clouds. Electric lights came on everywhere. As did conversation. Smokeless, concrete.

Everything was happening in the sky -- the fear, the freedom. A little bird, I thought, was being given training by a parent bird -- the flapping of the little one reminded me of my fear of flying. All across only water for it, and for me an enclosed space in nowhere-land. It survived, I survived. Both of us failed, but we went on. We flew, and returned home a survivor.

I emerged from a sudden foreboding sky back home, and a heartless rain, just before I was about to take off. It was choking me, but I decided against the medicine. The flight brought the best out of me -- Inside Out.

The content made me enjoy the evening further. Mandavi -- it is a beautiful name. My next character will be her. Mandavi, the warrior. In the distant somewhere, there must be the Arabian Sea, but Mandavi has a definite line of distinction we call the horizon, the borderline. The borderline between fear and overcoming it. It remains, and each time is a fight. But, winning -- winning becomes a habit, like whiskey. Spirits soar, as do seagulls.

It takes you back to highs -- fearless highs.