The Song of the Sirens

One of the Sirens came rushing to the eldest sister. She knew as soon as she saw the little one's face that it was that time of the day again. Another ignorant ship was approaching. She rose, a bit famished as she had her last meal a little over a day ago. And her empty stomach growled a bit in desire as soon as it knew that another meal was coming their way.

As soon as Odysseus saw the island of green meadows basking in the mellow sun rays, amidst the endless plethora of grey waves, he was filled with a sickening dread. He heard Circe's warning and what she had said about the Island of the Sirens ringing in his ears like an echo. Odysseus felt as if the island itself was a Siren. It used the winds and the waves to rope in the ship while it used the alluring sight of its easy on eyes greenery to rope in the sailors. But he knew who resided there. Or what, he thought.

He had heard enough about the Sirens to be afraid of them. He knew how they floated to the shore with their welcoming arms stretched and their voices ringing so beautifully in the air that men found themselves swept away, by them and then the sea. He knew the monstrosity that hides beneath their beauty. He also knew there was death buried deep beneath the island that seemed to promise them an easy, happy life. Skeletons scattered across the lush green meadows, telling tales of dreamers who shall never wake.

And so Odysseus decided to heed Circe's advice. He was never the one to back down from a challenge and he too desired to hear the Sirens' fabled voices. But he also wanted to survive his journey. Go back home to Ithaca, to Penelope. Ultimately unable to resist the temptation of another tale of yet another triumphant conquest, he brought out Circe's gift, a block of beeswax, and distributed it among his men. Then he asked them to tie him to the ship's mast and not release him no matter how much he begged and pleaded. The men followed his orders and plugged their ears with beeswax.

Odysseus had heard so much about the Sirens, but men's depictions and descriptions had failed to prepare Odysseus for what stood before him. Or who. Incredible. He could not help but stare wistfully at the dark tresses that tumbled down their backs, like seaweed; hiding secret life in between, waiting for fingers to comb through them. With their hair tumbling down their shoulders and their white wings with streaks of gold, they were a sight to behold. Odysseus never thought someone's voice could be so melodic. It was as if someone was trickling ambrosia down his ears. They sang his praises and beckoned him to come closer.

O Mighty Odysseus, the greatest hero of all

Come rest for some time, make your ship stall

The wicked world of men knew nothing of these wonderful creatures, Odysseus suddenly found himself deciding. These misunderstood creatures with voices so soothing and sweet could never harm him. He cried out to his men to release him but they ignored his orders and bound him up tighter. Odysseus started thrashing out in rage with all his might but it was of no use. He saw one of his men whose ears got unplugged by mistake, jumping into the water to reach the Sirens. And he was so jealous of the man who was soon about to drown. His eyes brimming with hot tears took in a last hazy sight of the Sirens singing in all their glory as their ship moved past the island.

The eldest of the three Sirens flew a bit higher and stretched out her arms and cried louder than the rest. Her tears flowed down her cheeks effortlessly. And her voice sounded raw and hoarse. It was as if the sound that came out of her throat had come from her aching heart, weeping for the men that died for her, because of her. And she was so tired. She was tired of seeing these men die every day. She was tired of the ships crashing on the shore. She was tired of devouring those dead men to satisfy her hunger and see their skeletons strewn upon the meadows. She had thought that one of these days she would stop feeling anything but that day never came. Only if our hearts were made of stone, she thought sadly. For if their hearts were made of stone they would not keep breaking every day and this eternal ache residing in their chest would go away. For no matter how much they cried and warned the men not to come near them, all of them came rushing without heeding their warnings. Little did they know that in their tongue, everything sounded beautiful, even songs of grief, even words of caution. Even if they had understood what the sirens' said, for men, words of caution meant nothing but a challenge- an invitation to be accepted with open arms. She cried out once more the same words she had been repeating all this time, the same warning that somehow made men rush to them faster-

O Mighty Odysseus, the greatest hero of all

Do not come nearer, for harm shall befall

Today, they would sleep with emptier stomachs and fuller hearts. Devoid, for once, of grief or guilt. And the ship that sailed to Ithaca carried a crew that had lost a member but gained experience. Yet these men, who had survived the Sirens, failed to understand them. These creatures continued to be misunderstood and seen as monsters.