Sunday, February 2, 2014

TO THE BRIDE

She castigated herself for her complicity, berating herself for propelling the robbers into excesses of more atavistic violence but felt constrained, a constraint compounded by the sheer need for survival, that led her to collude in the annihilation of the robber brides. It was, therefore, with great compunction, considering, as well, the increasing encroachment of mortality, that she deemed it wise to circumvent the course the robbers had writ for her. Hers was a lifetime of repression and thwarted desire. Unable to articulate, for how can the inconceivable be articulated except as inconceivable and sheathed in amorphous wisps of self abnegation she frittered away her youth, squandering the ripe pleasures of mellowing middle age and culminating now in this state of decrepitude.

As soon as she saw the young girl she resolved to break the uncharming circle of the claustrophobic integument. She made her hide behind the barrel and dissembled impeccably in front of the robbers who, sated with lust on the other girl they had feasted on, bloated corpulent on the constituents of their necrophiliac remnants, revelled and drank and unaware, that the wine they consumed was sweetened with a sleeping draught snored away complacently.

She realized that the young girl evinced an unforeseen perspicacity in creating a trail of peas. Following, or rather retracing  the path where their imminent and immanent destinies reposed they proceeded with cautious joyfulness. She delivered the young girl into the hands of her father.

It was discernible, however that this homecoming was a homecoming in more than one way. It was, for her, a reversion, a renavigating of her primordial being. Self knowledge is indwelling, it can neither be wished away nor unmitigatedly repressed. The whole raison de etre of what she had just done in this rescuing was, both an act of bravery and a form of self actualization. It was a baptism by fire both for her and the young girl. The father's profuse and garrulous outpourings of gratitude were agreeable portents. She decided, on impulse, which was really a timeless decision, brought into linguistic dimensionality through words, to give form to her latent desires. Slipping of the ring from the dead forefinger she asked for the young girl's hand in marriage. 

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