Vacation

Vivacious birds in vivid colours stole her eyes, on a joyous day, before the pre-mature night. Rachita was on vacation, a vacation to the land of her dreams. Canopies crowned the jewel of earth, brook babbled creasing the heart of heaven, laced cobras miles of offshoots, peacocks twerked to the rhythm of heat. It was Aravali, the line of peaks, near Delhi in 2006.

She was sitting next to a rugged rock, streams of water passed. Her heart rhymed to the mellow tunes of nature. The sky started darkening, hundreds of screeches filled the air. All of a sudden, rhymes and rhythms dishevelled. She gazed at the darkening sky, thousands of eagles started joining each other, forming an umbrella over the forest. Scavengers arrived in the land of life. Puzzled. Scared. Her heart pounded harder than the heaviest. Smell of rotten flesh replaced fragrances of wild flowers. Green trees started melting in a self putrefying process. Rotten leaves, branches, flesh of birds started falling over her. She started running randomly towards any space that seemed free. But, the hell had already covered the celestial sky. In mid of noon, it was as dark as mid-night. Eagles attacked her with their sharp, pointy beaks. Blood oozedย from her pierced skin. She had no way apart from jumping into the brook and she jumped. Her skin started peeling like the cover of a boiled potato. She was flowing with the stream of water. Along with her, trails of blood followed her cascading path. Meanwhile, the eagles kept on attacking. She was getting nearer to a massive fall, a fall of folklores that comes into existence for a single day after every hundred and eight years; on the day when night has its new moon. The legends of land dictate that the Goddess Cha of jungle changes her skin after an interval of hundred and eight years. The time when she leaves her old skin for the new one brings catastrophe to the whole jungle. Trees, birds, animals die within a fraction of second; decay; dissolve; whileย the river changes its course and a fearsome fall of Cha appears.

Involuntarily, unconscious, like a lump of dead mass Rachita fell into the fall of Cha. Silence roamed. Complete dissolution. Not a single life left, eagles disappeared, sky cleared. A serene river appeared in tranquil. A massive fountain of water, rattling like the tongue of a venomous snake with unsurpassable power of creation thundered the sky while rising from earth. Droplets of water like millions of gleaming diamonds fell over the impalpable remains of past. Seedlings sprouted from seeds, birds hatched from eggs, new lives appeared. Lions roared, crickets chirped. It was life ones again. But….but, what happened to Rachita is not known. She could have died, she could have lived, though it is certain that she disappeared. A few miles away, in a village, smeared in blood,ย separated from the umbilical cord, a baby cried.


Note: Written for the prompt “vacation” of IBQ

38 responses to “Vacation”

  1. this is wonderful! vivid and inspiring ๐Ÿ˜Š

    1. Thanks Malaika ๐Ÿ™‚

  2. mmh, is there a next installment to this.. so I ponder… profound indeed!

    1. For now, I’ve not thought but, I can write further on it in future. Thanks for reading.

      1. You welcome. I love your writing style

  3. “In mid of noon, it was as dark as mid-night. Eagles attacked her with their sharp, pointy beaks.” Is this the goddesses’ doing?

    1. No, Goddess is not doing anything. Goddess is just changing her skin and all these are impacts of that. Actually, I wanted to depict how life renews itself through death.

  4. Brilliantly depicted Mou! Great vividness! ๐Ÿ˜€

    1. Thanks for the encouragement ๐Ÿ™‚

      1. May be one day but, that’s far ๐Ÿ™‚

      2. Because I’ve not tried anything big till now. But, I will try definitely ๐Ÿ™‚

      3. You’re on to a great start:)

      4. Thanks a lot ๐Ÿ™‚

  5. I’ll comment further when I read it again with not is tired eyes, but this is guided, mou.

    Your style of writing is descriptive and vivid(to borrow someone’s else’s word here). Almost a bit of surrealism in your words n story.

    I agree with the others here, you are off to a great start. And you will only get better n better. And now stop blushing and keep writing!

    ๐Ÿ˜‰

  6. That’s with not SO tired eyes from my comment above. Even my typing is betraying me lol

  7. Renewal, just in time for the new moon.

    Any new writing ideas or stories swirling in your brain?

    1. Yes, new moon because in spite of its appalling look, it signifies a positive change, a hope.
      No ideas for now but, will be back soon with a new one ๐Ÿ™‚

      1. I like that..positive change..new hope..it’s a good theme

        Ok

        Maybe I’ll try writing a regular fiction type piece.

        Take care

  8. Climax with the suspense, Reincarnation or Salvation, such an outstanding work..Immortal soul that undergoes frequent rebirths.

    1. Thank you Ankit for reading and words of encouragement. ๐Ÿ™‚

  9. Like your “vacation”! Good writing!
    Now, if this life is a Vacation, I wonder what the next one will be like!
    Take care
    Brian

    1. Thank you, Brian ๐Ÿ™‚

    2. The interval between life and death is like a vacation, of change and renewal. ๐Ÿ™‚

      1. Brilliant! A very distinct (and so Indian if I may say so) way to look at life. ๐Ÿ™‚
        We should therefore take life as a vacation! An incredible perspective to get rid of all the bad stuff… Thank you Mou for this insight.
        And have a lovely vacation this week! ๐Ÿ™‚

      2. Thanks a lot Brian ๐Ÿ™‚

      3. Ps to your insight: how old are you? like a thousand times 25? ๐Ÿ™‚

      4. Close guess, I’m 27 years old. Thanks for reblogging. ๐Ÿ™‚

  10. Liked the alliterative beginning..good use of nature throughout..rattled along..short, sharp sentences and fragmented thoughts ramped up the surreal tension. I liked the 108 year time interval idea too, it was cool and added another element, ending also brought another interpretive element, nice work ๐Ÿ™‚

    1. Thanks Stephen ๐Ÿ™‚

  11. Reblogged this on Equinoxio and commented:
    Speechless. By Mou Mishra. Love it. To write like that? She must be one thousand times twenty-five years old!

  12. Re-read it. I took the liberty to re-blog. Without asking for permission first. Sorry. Couldn’t help it! ๐Ÿ™‚

    1. Its a big compliment, thank you very much ๐Ÿ™‚

      1. Don’t mention it. Thank you for the inspiration!
        ๐Ÿ™‚
        Brian

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