They asked me casually, "hey tell me about the woman you think of as a hero"

Silence prevailed like an overbearing cacophony. The wall clock kept nudging consistently, only I would occasionally look at it to register its I-know-it-all look for the umpteenth time. Intermittent beeps from the cardiograph challenged my patience, the saline supply jeered at my determination to not let go. A pungent odour was concentrating so hard on choking me, that I almost believed, that’s the only task it was born to execute. Stuck in a loop, half sure of how pleasurable the exit would be, I hung on.

This was not even about me anymore. The memories were already memories before I could soak in them. Far from fact, I still believed, this couldn't be the endgame.

Something like a ‘coma’ I’d hear them whisper. Head buried in tightly coupled palms, my peripheral eye would see through moist haze,

white coats move hastily in groups, rustling heavy scientific terms, their confused stethoscopes wobbling to keep pace.

Such is the fear of losing a loved one, I thought to myself, that you’d rather live in the ruins than build up all over again. I’d shut my ears, more so, to even the most familiar jargon,

only because I unfortunately knew, I had little power to undo.

The issue was graver than mere physical damage, I was well aware, as Mother Earth struggled to exist, caged up in an experimental box, chained in intravenous pipes, face drooping like she barely believes they can mend,

still breathing, because she knew they’d finally made a guinea pig of her, and she’s brave enough to see this to the end.

Something like a haemorrhage, due to some kind of a side effect called Global Warming, of experiments I myself participated in, shamefully oblivious of the fact that today’s future is tomorrow’s present. (Venice is such a beautiful city, take gondolas to the market, is it?) She always wanted to warn us that states and nations are only in the head.

Boundaries are never for real. Now when trillions of us are floating, it’s as if these sporadic floods, and risen ocean levels are a reality check, the insignificance of territories and all wars fought over them were null.

Refrigerators and Air-conditioners, where have they led? Electricity is a luxury today, Oxygen, a factory finish, Ozone is a museum eye-candy, Drinking water, a packaged dish. Who is to blame and who is to bear the shame,

but we, who are not exempted from a single pang of this ugly survival game.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like she always failed, she wasn’t even average. I’ve heard of a magnanimous species called dinosaur go extinct at the disposal of her rage.

I wonder more often than not, if the dinosaur too indulged in Gender Shaming and Abuse, in discrimination, trafficking and Exhaustive resource use? 

Born 4.5 billion years ago, with an incubation of approximately 1 billion years, the Earth today is a habitat for 8.7 million species of living beings of which humans. Supposedly her greatest achievement, constitute only one species, and have existed on it's face for 200,000 years now, with the earliest civilization dating back to 6000 years ago. And on the occasion of being bestowed with the power of choosing one woman whose story needed to make it to the woman who fits my idea of a hero, I could barely falter. 

Ever since the wheels of time have been believed to have been spinning, Mother Earth has never failed momentum to prove her enigma. Effortlessly elegant, and superlatively beautiful, with the most perfect curves, painted with excellence, her glory has forever made us proud. Winning titles of the only survivable planet in the universe, the most optimal temperature statistics, the most ideal atmospheric conditions, an ideal revolutionary period, perfect distance from the sun, you name it and she's won it. 

Talk about being a strong independent woman? Currency notes were not even dreamt of, when she had already survived the no-oxygen age, the Ice age, through the Hadean, Archean, Proterozoic, Palaeozoic, Mesozoic, Cenozoic eras, to the present day. Improving standards of living, keeping pace with the universe she gifted herself the Moon, the Ozone, the hydrosphere, and the most outstanding gift ever, Life.

Whenever there has been a crisis, she has evolved like a timeless legend to protect her dignity, preserve her accolades and has taught us all, how the show must go on. 

On ugly nights when the beasts raped her daughter, disposed the bleeding body on Her bosom, she was helpless. The barely breathing corpse lay there vulnerable, just as much as the forcefully uprooted banyan tree, that stood testimony to profane sacrilege for the sake of some seven storey shopping mall, and while her children bled to death, with them wept this mother.

Never had she found herself in such desperate a state of helplessness, that she had started questioning the entire purpose of her existence.

Wars ruined families, nuclear threats devastated her, and all she did is wept. Through the cracks and pores, gallore she wept, as brothers strangled brother, blinded in treachery, loot and theft.

Continuing to spread the bigger message, distributing equally, the splendor of a fresh sunrise, she perpetuated propagating the essence of starting afresh. On a low winter lazy noon, Say Three things to yourself, she would often whisper me awake, “I am proud of you, for who you are. I forgive you for letting you down. I promise you, to make the best of who you are.” 

Suddenly my daze broke off. With a mild diz, and skimpy headache, I half-opened my eyes, the cardiograph still beeping, in a hazy distance she stared calmly. Did I just feel she smiled like she knew what I was thinking, or was it a mirage? Outside the window, the setting sun, left a message for those who could perceive, The night is only the absence of conscience. It is only as dark as a burning lump of camphor.

On the other side of this journey, is a bright awakening. The night is a mere excuse. The toad bears the antedote to it's own cancer.

The guns roared, revolutionists howled, settling her crown with poise, she strolled on the carpet of renaissance, Technology boom and Awareness ignited young voice. A warrior of ages, she emerged like a phoenix, of all woes we inflicted her with, not-too-gladly declaring, Bring it on!

A circle, they say, is composed of, struggles, successes and survival tales. A breathing epitome she has been weaving silently, between occassional reminders thereon. 

The tsunami, avalanche, land-slides and storms, were like elite badminton moves, in a virtual singles between the founder and the coach of a monopoly Athletic Federation barely defending a hope-ball-all game. Symbolising essentialism and far-sightedness in organized loops.

I have grown up largely in the company of women. The struggle of bearing life in womb, the victory of Life over struggle, I've seen it all very closely. A son going prodigal, plethora of emotions, all guided by the desire for more, the fear of hell, the desperation for heaven. She saw the birth of God, the inception of belief systems, followed by religion, evolution of Creed, caste, and regionality. She saw the birth of speech, how one language copulated with another and produced an third, how genes flowed through gaites, how the speakers and observers, drivers and passengers evolved through the ages, the Advent of prosperity.

The Earth is a teller. And equally good a listener. She is with you in all your trysts. She's an expectationless teacher, a silent preacher. Rectifying like a companion and supporting like a mother, understanding like a sister and caring like a wife, guiding like a father she single-handedly kept going. She's always had your back, and in return she's only relied on you with hers.

A thud sound made me squeash back my chair and rush towards the door. A blinding flash pulled me, intoxicated I ran towards it, not a single soul around. In a while I was flying, my feet barely touching the ground, and off I toppled into a magnetic field, like a Dynamo through time, sudden awakening forces humming into my ears, bouts of mixed feelings brimming up and shrinking within. In a woosh everything was colourful, bright and gay,

I smiled in enlightenment, as the Earth (floor here) quaked. A bright day it was. We had made it once more, into the new era. 

Proven she has, time and again, there is no greater hero than you, and if you're reading this, you've made it my friend. You have the power of Mother Earth in you. You are the creater, preserver and destroyer. You are her fruit, borne of her. Into her you escape.

But pause and probe deep. Take all your time, and answer me, Are you the experimenter, or the experiment itself?