The Fierce Flame

47||Reya

✨suprise ✨

Author

Children are considered pure vessels, embodying innocence, curiosity, and openness to the wonders of the universe. They appear like milk-white sheets untouched by the stains of the world. But then there are children like Veer. Brimming with the energy of a monster, igniting frustration and exasperation. Their mischievous antics resemble the work of shaitaan, often making you think they are born on this planet to test your patience. It takes everything in you to not pick them up and throw them into a pool of algae.

So does were the thoughts of the guards who stand along the boundary of the compound of both houses.

Once again, Veer poked his plastic gun into the thigh of the muscular man in black, trying to draw a hint of emotion from the man who stood before his house like a statue. He had kicked his football at them, trying to get them to talk to him. He was bored out of his wits and somewhat irritated.

He is onto a new theory. His mumma doesn't love him anymore. Her love is lost for him. She had told him she would be back soon, but he was woken up to Dai Maa's arms around him. His mumma was still not home. And he was not going to talk to her. Not even if she gets him two cheesecakes. On the third cake bribe, he might finally agree. However, he still couldn't push away the irritation crawling in him, that his mumma doesn't care for him.

"You aren't going to talk to me," Veer whines.

The guard stands tall, hands behind his back, head up with a straight posture. His hawk-eyes veiled behind the black sunglasses.

"Okay, then play with me." Veer once again  poked the nozzle of his plastic gun at the man's leg again. Another layer of frown takes on his soft features. He still can't understand why they were here. At first, he thought they were around for him to play. Now, he was getting proved wrong. Throwing his gun on the ground, Veer huffed as he walked towards his car.

The guard, who had been poked at his legs by Veer, looks down at the small, retreating body through his black glasses and exhales a breath of relief.

Veer's sharp ears pick it up, and he snaps his head over his shoulder. The guard, who had slumped his shoulders, is quick to stand straight.

"You are bad at acting." He shouts out, walking towards his car. The guard pales at the observation of the child.

Under the warm morning sun of January, with the winds twirling around, they watch Veer zoom around on his toy cars. With tiny hands firmly gripping the steering wheels, he steers imaginary roads, making engine noises with each turn.

"Brummmmmm...." And with that, he was out of the compound gate of Hussain House. The guards let him go on his own adventure, trying to race against invisible competitors, kicking toys that surrendered under the wheels of his car, hindering his progress.

As the man exits the Mercedes limo, shutting the door behind him, he stands before the tall iron gates of Nirvan, fingers stuffed in his pants pocket as he regards the house with a scrutinizing gaze. He was finally doing it. Finally, he was ending his punishment of keeping himself away from life. He had enough of his suffering.

For he knows it's okay to find soothing solitude in darkness. A deserving rest, to do what you like and walk the path which hushes your demons for a time. It's okay to find home in darkness, if it's okay to cry on the pain you have been having perhaps from betrayal, or from the break of your dreams, for the separation from the person you made promises. What right do anyone get to tell you to move away from the home where you are mourning. Why mourning is not allowed? Why tears are seen as a sign of weakness?