Winning Again

Theme: Glimpses of a person’s life.

Characters:

Edward Lavender:grandfather                                                                                                                               Hue Lavender: grandmother                                                                                                                             George Lavender: father                                                                                                                              Annette Lavender: mother                                                                                                                            Josh Lavender: son

Time: The Present

Setting: The basement of the Lavender family. Night-time. It is clean and tranquil, agreeable, the much-hushed corner of a semi-detached villa, in a war-stricken vicinity.

‘Deafening silence prevails, but would no more, no more would this state would be the graveyard of the brutal and subdued rage, that will be waned’, declared the old man, his face portrayed scars from the ravages of time. He had been fat and petite, slightly bent and. His face fixed with wrinkles Criss-cross running everywhere illuminated as the thoughts of amelioration poured out, his fringes of grey hair around a balding head, appeared black again. It seemed he had never lost his childhood, (the thought was almost revolting) but he knew he was at the stage of life, when he would gain nothing from God but would have to give them away in turn. Josh appeared, ‘let’s go outside, can we?’, his curiosity had never been more to unveil the rest.

‘wait… wait…, you’ve waited more than even I can remember, you know I cannot keep track of the dates after all’, the poker faces around twitched upwards and laughs seen in their eyes. ‘Then Grand Pa, why we have to keep cooling our heels even more? C’mon’, Josh could wait no longer, no longer because he very well knew the time had come. Contrastingly, everybody was as keen as Josh but ultimately, they were not kids, they were parents who could not lose their calm. Impatience had already drunk their blood, but only the flesh was left untouched. ‘You can distinguish now that it is clear enough, that the time of my resignation is close by, henceforth, I would adore to delineate my life with y’all, ‘memories’, the treasures of me and you’.

‘The gentle mist, the gentle scent of marigolds have vanished in these hard times, but I still remember my childhood days, vivid and clear’, ‘ Dad, my fingers are trembling, with the mere the thought of treasuring your memories, my curiosity is at its peak’, exclaimed George as everybody approached the elderly.                                                                                                                                                     ‘I was fortunate enough to be born in a wealthy household, from gold to silver, from comfort to food, what thing I could not yearn for, all were in my hands at one call, servants in the front at the back. But it seems now that peace cannot be compared to wealth, the money in my pocket cannot earn me a war-less love and cooperation, opulence has become the cause that needs to diagnosed to the similar way that a doctor cannot cure a symptom but has to detect the cause the first and the foremost. Those antics have no worth in my heart now, I have learnt what is worth more’.

‘My childhood was spent in luxury and serenity. Oh! I crave those meadows, among the trees which had been planted by my father, I yearn for those extra hours of June solstice, where we cavorted amongst the vast plains, and then dashed back to the shelter before the moon shed its light on us, my friends I would never forget.’                                                                                ‘Well Grand Pa, did you frolic about the meadows but they no longer exist, everything has a deserted look of a graveyard, I have no friends. I don’t even recognize the people of the next neighbourhood.’                                                                                                                                             ‘I’m sorry my dear, but I could not do a bit to save your childhood memories, I was incapacitated. Your souvenirs have been drained by the war, but not only you all the children have experienced the same. Don’t frown, tomorrow the break of dawn would bring a new life to you and to your family.’                                                                                                        ‘Yes, I believe the same, why cry in vain, I cannot reverse the war, but I can cease it by limiting the influence of money and power over others. As a missionary of peace, I must learn to reverse the societal health which has now found a basis of military, antagonism and disunity.’ ‘I’m proud of you Josh,’ announced Annette.                                                                                         Edward continued, ‘What more can I share, it gets me nostalgic. I reminisce my cavernous study, the desk a staple of my daily regime. I could not escape the feel of pure timber, when we travelled to our aunt’s, I often requested my father to bring the desk along with us. All the amazing ideas, my journals, my views. We used to say prayers every Sundays. My grandmother used to wake me up, get me ready to school. I used to cherish her kiss on my forehead, the moist imprints.’

‘As the years rolled by, crumbles of childhood and memories faded away, I had to leave for my further studies abroad, which became the turning point of my life. ‘Till then the waves of my life were lucid in the harbour. My return was not greeted with pleasure rather with scepticism. My father was hesitant, no force could break his assumptions that the war would persuade an end of the country. I still ‘remember’ his limpid words, but my brain was on the thunder, it was the God itself. Just like any other teenage, I also had to prove my existence, my calibre. I left the leisure, leaving behind my father and the amenities. ‘Do you know how I met your Grand Ma?’. The flow of the words changed to gentle compassion; he had a new life to begin after that. ‘No’, Edward said, ‘you’ve never told me.’

‘The sharp yellow leaves, the sparrows and the harvest, choreographed the new autumn. I was hopeless, a bird without wings for flight, but dreams were stringing chords of melancholy. Nowhere to go, the park was my final destination, autumn had always brought me sorrow and grief. But that day, sparks were different from normal, a girl approached me. Her hair was gold, reflecting the sun, each strand had its own independent appeal. Over the ocean breeze, the effect was silent, her aura had seeped within me. I could not stay calm, and… and… her smile, one in a million, loudest among the vague background. What not, her lips were frozen, but then also they were rose.’

The basement was implicit than ever, but none of them could express their contentment. Even Grand Pa had left it, and had reached that bench again. ‘Since then, I solemnly visited my father’s mansion. Your Grand Ma, approached me, I sprang with a beatific smile. ‘Who are you, never seen you around?’ She asked, with her charming voice. I replied as usual, my own sluggish style. I estimated rather concluded that she had liked my introduction. You know, ‘first impression is the last impression’. Later I, with perseverance, stood on my own feet. From working as a sweeper to the employee of an enterprise, I was lucid except for occasional lapses of memory. Once I was in the backseat of my life, which I do not regret but then I had become the driver of my own life, deciding my destination. The innocence of childhood had become a past, I would cherish till the graveyard.                                              Subsequently, frequently I had conversations with her. My inability to earn a living ‘at first’, did not impede the progress of our relationship. The date when, I was keen, ’ready’ to propose her, stable enough, I still remember. That date will never leave my veins as long as I’m alive, I put the proposal to marry me. Hue was not reluctant. Not hesitant, an instant agreement was plunged in my ears. What could I say, no words left, just tears that were pearls, I should’ve treasured, the saffron sun that veiled the sky, had become the witness. Together, we bought a house, this villa’.                                                                                                               ‘Oh, this house has been so old, like 103 years old’, interrupted Josh, with an amazing look. ‘Oh, shut up! I’m not that old, see my black hair. Even your father’s hair has gone grey, that he would need to paint it routinely. Furthermore, do you want to hear more, are you bored? ‘no, no continue’, everybody replied. ‘There’s not more, I assure you. Then as time flew, as sheet of breeze, calm, tranquil. We had Edward, then your sister. I believed my battle was over, every morning the sun rose casting the trees in their virescent hues and bringing the warm brown tones return to the earth, no longer I realized those warnings of Dad had come true.

‘As the war persuaded, I was forced into the army, recruitment made me leave Hue, Edward and Lily alone. Those brutal killings, those bodies of the innocent, I was blind. I panicked but no one could help me, they were helpless themselves. Who could refrain the aftermath? The bullets fired from my gun had become inestimable, God helped at the right time, the hours when I was in the position of retirement. Now, the military did not need me, I was sent back. I don’t want to reminisce, how, why they managed in this vicinity, but salute Hue for her sacrifice.’ We shall tie the bond again in heaven. The light that trailed behind him illuminated the sorrowful casket of consumption. The grief surged with every expelled breath, reaching higher extents, never sufficiently soothed by her long intakes of the murdered air. Tears began to spill from his helpless eyes onto the silk carpet.                                        

‘Never mind, the dawn has brought new freshness. The black has flown by, dreamers can awaken their dreams, changers can change but the cruel would definitely perish. Let’s give the world a new definition of living, a higher society. Characterised by inevitable peace, cherished compassion and sympathised thoughts bound together.’                                          The darkness surrendered, with all might the vibrant colours have won again, and will over the black marks every time. Everybody breathed the fresh, delicate air; the breeze soothed their throats. They all dreamt of new beginnings. Their souls had risen again, which heard a melody, simmering rays of the Sun, graced their skins. New possibilities had arrived, which meant a new page had to be scripted.