Introduction:
I hope that Insha’Allah, the readers would like and understand what I have written, which is not just my own, but everybody’s story. I wrote it first, when I was myself in my early teens, around 14 years old (revised later). The time of adolescence, when, I think, one feels a unique and strong emotion, the guilt of loosing one’s sanctity, that strong feeling of being apart from this world, and wondering ‘why am I here in this world?’ ‘Who am I?’ Recall, during all the changes going on, the additional sudden rush of excess imagination, accompanied with feelings of loneliness, sadness, and thinking about Angels, sad at our loss of innocence...many do express it, in a unique way of their own, sometimes even ending up with co-incidences.
So it’s just like being in different chapters of the same old story, some finish early, some finish late, some don’t even begin, some remember, some forget, some recall and few are still stuck in there.
Writers Note:
Art keeps flowing through the heart and soul of everyman in this world, as a rustle, that rises and falls, everywhere and everyday, all the time.
Yet, I cannot deny that only few are able to recognise it and are able to understand its beauty, art and most of all, its sanctity.
This heavenly rustle is a constant flow of purity and creativity from the Almighty. It’s the same rustle which flows through the hearts of true poets and artists, who, then, describe it in a unique way of their own, and they are able to do so because they don’t let the rustle, to settle down, rather keep it alive, like a storm, until they understand it and are able to express it.
It’s because of this belief that I entitled this wonderful rustle, the “Reefy Rustle”.
“The Embrace.”
“A sinner laid in darkness, crushed and broken within; he had little choice but to lie down silently. Without even making a rattle, he quietly lay in a solitary, still and darkened world, of his own. He thought of his past and his sins, in great agony, and he knew the cause for his sufferings, which were none other but his own sins.
He knew it, even regretted, but was not able to purify his blackened heart. The sinful smell of his rotten soul had died a long time ago. He was now, a soulless being.
‘The light has gone out of my dead, still life’, he thought, but soon felt he was wrong, yet again, as in that darkness, he heard a rustle, along with which came an enlightener; neutral and unbiased, which was neither good, nor bad, didn’t knew happiness, nor sadness.
She was just an imagination, which entered the sinner’s world, uninvited, but possessed a clean soul.
That was the moment when the sinner first met an angel, a moment, when I first met my angel.”
“A painful Letdown.”
“‘Why has your sanctity faded away my angel? Where did you lose it? Why are your eyes wet? Why are your wings torned? Why is this whole state quiet and still?’ I asked, to the very existence of my new born dreams and imaginations.
‘She was sad, because it was the first time she felt delight, she has lost her sanctity, she is no longer a chaste soul’, these thoughts kept aching my heart, when the quiet still state before me spoke up;
‘The divine rustle, has been acknowledged by a new heart, but it couldn’t realise the beauty of its secret nature, and the magnificence is to keep this beauty, a secret’.”
“The Howling.”
“As you walk away through the door, my heart becomes eager, quite anxious to see your face, just once, the face of the soul which makes my heart cries out silent hymns full of misery.
Trust me oh angel, I won’t make you sad, make you cry again, but this ever aching heart of mine is becoming eager to know the reason of that uncertain and unknown wind, which always hides your blonde face behind your golden hair. Why am I able to witness only those still green eyes of yours, with shades of blue in them, full of tears? I want to know the cause for those tears…no…come back!”
“A Sacred Sacrifice.”
“‘My heart is unhappy, I don’t know the reason, but you surely do. Come back to me and talk for a while. Let me understand and feel the sanctity and that uncorrupted sensation, just once. Only once I want to become neutral, unbiased. Take me to the other side, in the light, from where you come from’, I sobbed.
And then a reply came;
‘I am departing back to where I was before. Your time shall arrive, but not at present, not now.’
And then, the angel left and so did the rustle along with her, which I used to listen and write down, but then…something is still with me, I could feel it, could it be that the angel has fallen, because of me or maybe…for me?”
“A Forlorn wrench.”
“I want to know everything about my past. I want to recall all those forgotten memories, of my past, a past that never existed. I am living in the ‘present’, and will always do, even if I try to go in the ‘past’, the ‘present’ follows me and makes my ‘past’ the ‘present’ and, my actual ‘present’ the ‘future’. The ‘future’ always remains the same yet at the same time, keeps changing.
These changing times, have made me its slave, but then, I am a slave already (of the Almighty indeed), and so why is it that I can’t break free from this additional unlawful master? Like the angel did, but she paid a costly price for doing so, by loosing her very existence and, has now, become a mere imagination, which no heart seems to understand. Her misfortune is little, in being an imagination, but great, in drifting into and finding solace in a dull heart, of a naïve mere slave like me.”
“Waking up a dull heart.”
“I have witnessed and felt your sadness. I have seen how your tears disconnect and become a separate drop. Those shining green drops, with shades of blue in them, look like dews of pearls to me, and I found that each and every one of those three kinds of jewels, tell a unique story of their own, and trust me, my heart had become the part of the weakest one, the neutral one, a long time ago. You knew it, from the very beginning.
Then tell me my angel, why did you drop the drop?”
“Necessary Introspection.”
“I am feeling lonely again. Are you still with me? Are you still here? Maybe, all this time, you were nothing but an illusion and I was actually unaided all along. But then, even if you are an illusion, then you are an unseen and unheard one. My imagination can give rise to certain type of characters, but my mind could never probably create a living character, like you, which possesses a soul, and that too a chaste one.
Maybe you are just an illusion, just an imagination, but a completely unique one, without any doubt, blessed by the Almighty, who granted such an innocent soul to you.
You are an angel to me for the reasons that; you have never committed any sin; you are not the evil one and are not bad. But then, you are not good either.
You are neutral.
But even if you are neutral, you have a pure soul and you do possess emotions. You are not a being but a soul itself.
Maybe, my angel is a blessed soul, who chose a sinner, who misunderstood her and even though she was neutral, made her sad; made her cry, which is amazing.
But still, the angel, my angel, chose to stay with the sinner, just to lead him, in the world of art, of which the value is unknown and unheard to him.
But, one thing, I couldn’t understand so far, my angel; why me?”
“Free heart, calling.”
“I still remember the day I was born, when I first heard and saw; voices and the faces of those who thought that they now belonged to this world, just to keep me going on.
I remember the moment, when I first heard my own voice, when I first heard my very first cry. I remember the voices of the first two persons who were going to raise me and then…leave me cold and lonely.
But there was something else, which I felt; a ‘reefy’ rustle and a smiling hidden face of a heavenly creature, whom I was, in my later life going to call by the name of ‘my angel’.
I still remember the moment, when I first felt the sensation of cold fingers, warm lips and foreheads, on my skin, but underneath it, somewhere near my heart, was an uncorrupted sensation of sanctity, of a touch of an angel, of a rustle.
But as I grew older, more and more corrupted, in this ‘fake-real-world’, I began to loose my own sanctity, my innocence.
The voice of the rustle got buried under the harsh and loud screams of this world, and the already hidden face of my angel got drowned in a flood of fake faces of flesh and bones, and the faces of my then, loved ones.
But they couldn’t satisfy the need of that kind of warmth inside of me, which is apart from this world.
But, my angel, and the rustle, made it possible for my heart to be purified, again. They reminded me of a long forgotten necessity, of absolution.
And now, even though I am still a sinner, I am satisfied, because I was able to, at least, recall the forgotten memories of my angel, and the heavenly rustle, hence ridding me of the additional unlawful master, of time.
She truly cared for me, and paid the ultimate price for me, that any heart could ever realise. Just for me, she chose to be the ‘fallen one’, she put her own chastity on line, as a sacrifice and her very existence for my purification, for my absolution, truly a divine one…just for me…
I now, remember the promise I made to you, my dearest, that I will keep your memory going on, and push my senses to its very limits, to transform you from just an imagination, into a Divine one.
But, oh! My angel, your spirituality was never lost, as I now become conscious of a fact that you are meant to be, consecrated to the Almighty.
And now that my dull heart has woken up, as if from a deep amnesia, after all this time, I am able to recall again, that uncertain and unknown wind which still hides your blonde face behind your golden hair.
I now realise, how those green eyes of yours, which I witnessed, both dry and wet, with shades of blue in them; were all this time, hinting me, trying to remind me; of a forgotten warmth of a lap, of soft green grass, to rest upon when I would grow tired, and until then, an infinite freedom to fly, in the shades of the open blue sky, where any free heart would find eternal bliss.”
End.