Flame of the Forest

I don’t like to go anywhere. I stay holed up in my room and I’m comfortable like that. There was a time when I used to be overloaded with work. Taking care of kids, the household chores and my regular dance classes kept me busy and exhausted. But those days are over now. The kids have grown. They don’t need me like before. We have hired a house help and a cook since I feel tired all the time. Dancing, once the passion of my life, is a forgotten pursuit. Overall, I feel worthless.

I’m blessed with a close-knit family. But I’m on the verge of spoiling everything. My kids like to talk to me endlessly whenever they are back home from college but I’m unable to concentrate. I don’t know why I don’t feel like talking to anyone. My mom calls me from time to time. I don’t pick her calls. My husband keeps hovering around me to check if I need anything. But his coddling enrages me. I hate to see the sympathy in everyone’s eyes and behaviour. Sleep eludes me. The whole night I stare at the ceiling with my eyes tearing up often. Such is my problem. Depression kills. The medications help but to think that I’m a puppet in the hands of these itsy bitsy pills makes me miserable. 

Now again, my loving family has added to my misery in an attempt to uplift my mood. They have planned a trip to our village for Dol Jatra which used to be my favourite festival of all times. The beautiful spring weather, family reunions and playing with colours, I loved it all. It used to be a yearly ritual when our kids were young but it has ceased to be so in the past couple of years owing to their busier schedules and my illness.

I was reluctant since the idea of meeting people, even my family in our village, was revolting to me. What if they feel that I’m no longer the extrovert and lively person they knew and get offended? Although I was reluctant, the excitement in the faces of my kids made me relent. 

I noticed that spring had arrived. I remained glued to the window seat of the car watching the acres of green fields and inhaling the fresh and crisp air. The grimness of the cold winter months was gone. The golden sunlight seeping through the window warmed my face and my heart. 

Our family gave us a warm welcome. The joy of meeting your own people after a long time surpasses every other feeling in the world but I was jittery and kept to myself. I was in control  but the idea of playing Dol with everyone scared me to death. I wasn’t ready for it at all. There was a time I was the centre of attention for the whole family especially during this time. Starting from cooking various delicacies to the joy of playing with colours, everything used to be me. But now times have changed. I have changed. To my relief, no one forced me. 

It was the morning of Dol Jatra. Everybody went out to play with colours in the morning after a scrumptious breakfast. Our family house was a huge one. I settled myself in the farthest room which opened in the backyard. People wanted to stay back with me to give me company but I refused. I didn’t want to jeopardise their fun because of my illness. 

The stillness felt calming for some time. The usual noises of city life were missing here. I lay on my bed and heard the chirping of the birds for a while. Then I got up and opened the wooden door to the backyard. A sweet cool forest breeze brushed my face. Our ancestral house was just on the outskirts of a forest. The breathtaking view in front of my eyes made me gasp. The whole forest looked like it was ablaze with fire. Palash trees were covered with vivid amber coloured blooms. The swaying with the crisp wind said that spring has arrived!

Then I saw him. His body was sprinkled all over with a plethora of colours. It looked like a blue sky dotted with colourful clouds. His handsome face was smeared with red and yellow colours. His unruly hair flew open and bright vermillion colour palash flowers adorned his head. He looked like a God of the forest with a crown of red flames on his head. Garlands made of palash and marigold flowers hung from his neck and were tied like jewels around his wrists and ankles. He wore a yellow coloured dhoti which was now splotched with colours. He was swirling and dancing to the tunes of rustling of leaves and the humming of the birds. He swayed with the palash tree in its full glory. I saw him looking at me with lotus shaped eyes and then he called me with the gesture of a hand.

I took a step out without my slippers. The dew soaked grass pricked my feet. But it didn’t hurt me. It made me feel that I exist. I moved step by step towards him. I sniffed the air. A whiff of sweet scent entered my nostrils and travelled straight to my heart. I tried to remember the name of the flower but failed. Yet, I revelled in the magic of spring and moved forward.

And lo! He pointed a pichkari at me and a splash of water came gushing at my face. I felt suffocated for a second but when the air touched my water-soaked face, I felt so alive! I sprang and picked a pichkari from the coloured water-filled tub and sprayed it back at him. We played hide and seek among the people and played Holi like we were kids.I was spellbound with his aura. I’m sure he was Lord Krishna and I effortlessly became his Radha! We swayed with the breeze like flower laden trees in spring and danced. I watched myself with awe as my feet remembered all its lost steps and danced like never before. In the midst of spring, my family and the Lord himself, I met myself again…