Life is music. Plays at its own rhythm. You wake up go work wait in traffic punch some numbers have lunch with colleagues, wait in traffic return home. Love is there where heart is at home, it brims you with joy. Yet the music doesn’t stop. It softens, almost negligible when the heart blooms and the husby gives surprise. Sometimes the music is just a whisper when the book you read finally completed stays on your lap finished as a triumph.
Read more: Dance of Shadows | 476 Words | Prose |Visiting the childhood home brings memories though and the music of different tune you recognize too well. Or when the Mother-in-law says you’re getting large or Sister-in-law pokes at your career choice, then the music is loud, but not annoying. You’ve learned to let it be, learned to live well.
When the food on the table lacks salt, reminded by the dearest husby, when the love language longs for new words, when the music inside you wants to be heard and you put a hand in your heart and say no. It somehow wants to be heard. But you suppress and smile. You know the drill. You know this too well.
When the baby brother returns bringing boxes full of pride, legacy for the lovely mom and dad to be left behind, the family basks in the warm glow of safety, the same that was taken from you when you were willowy young growing baby because young girls are to be moulded on a special mould.
The same mould makes you go on the same old rigmarole when you go with the family on weekends. Working accommodating helping everyone have weekend fun but you are on a full-time overdrive working 24/7 earning stars that don’t shine. Music plays on life goes on and you refuse to let the music decide your fate, so you stop listening to the music that becomes the menace.
Once you stop listening to the music, your career is cremated. You’re not a balancing act but a walking catastrophe. You take it slow. You let it go, because even though the music is inside you bursting at its seams, you’re raised to be graceful. You won’t listen to the music but the music cannot be stopped. That’s when the shadows spawn. They learn to crawl. They learn to crawl as the bed turns coffin and the shadows turn to claws.
The shadows were learning to crawl every time you let their spicy jabs pierce your heart. When their words were dripping in venom, instead to deflect them, you let it embrace you.
Now shadows they dance without the music, the same music you muted. Now they dance in silence waiting to engulf you as you lay awake in bed waiting to become an insignificant part of nothing because you betrayed your soul because you muted the music.
Fairy Dharawat Blog 