Singing to the Rhythm of Life

Our existence is like the moon,

Crafting many stories and tunes.

Playing with the stars,

And shining through the scars.

Combining dreams and emotions,

Soaring high and then diving into ocean.

Building life in phases,

Battling dark and deadly mazes.

Life, the illuminator of desire,

Searching for love and fire.

Living through 2020 thrust us into an unknown territory, where we were seeing families losing their loved ones forever, homes uprooted and torn down. It was like watching a disaster movie showing a rapidly growing forest fire or an unstoppable avalanche, which you can’t escape. Just that I never knew it was going to be my story.

A few months in, the recession hit our country, and losing jobs was its by-product. My job was one of them too and with it brought its own heartache and problems. Panic ensued; the emotional impact was beyond the financial stress. I knew I had to fight. Be the hero that time demanded. It took me 2 months to face the adversity. Like they say ‘universe is invisibly aligning, and the light at the end of the tunnel is just around the bend’ so holding on to faith I started my own content marketing company. Sometimes all you have to do is get up, to realise something much bigger is in store for you.

As the market was crumbling down, the real estate also took a hit, and my husband who was getting accustomed to working from home bought a sweet bungalow at a heavy discount. We just went a bought a home, unplanned, without a thought. As if it was a carton of milk, about to go out of date. ‘For us,’ he said, ‘finally away from the hustle’.

The feeling of this new ownership was like, witnessing the world for the first time, the smell, the sight, and the touches. That’s how we felt when we bought our first house. Fresh paint, new light colouring a new dream. Owning a piece of the earth, a nook that we could call ours, brought a much-needed change in our life.

Actually, the house was an awe-inspiring masterpiece that didn’t need any second thought. It was a beauty that just draws you in and you have no control. In between the hills, standing quietly in the green valley where even time had colour. Our glass backyard door, it is plated gold by the setting sun, at night our wall’s colour changes to silver moonbeams. Soft voices of the birds accompany the dawn, smiling at the rhythm of our life. The seductive trees dance with the wind and we follow its long shadows in our bedroom.

The next couple of months was all about running my new business and setting up our lovely house.

‘Is it smelling of tequila?’ he asked, ‘this sweet and woody, somewhat a strong fermented smell.’

My nose has never been sharp, and I just ignored it saying, ‘I can’t smell anything.’

We just got busy with our new home purchases and separating arbitrary chunks of life and arranging them in phases, adding some fresh air into the old new bungalow. The previous house owner had left an old bonsai at our windowsill. From my side of the bed, I could see it ruling over the other shrubs and needlegrass. It never felt ours. It stood like an old hag, demonstrating its loyalty to the deceased previous homeowner. I always prayed for it to just drop dead, except trees don’t do that, you know, they die standing.

One evening when we felt the house was ready and demanded a celebration, we honoured it by throwing a housewarming party. Some old and new neighbours, some old and new friends and some ex and new colleagues turned up. I baked a cake, he made margaritas, and it didn’t take time to recognise the smell of the mixture. The strong fermented smell that often flowed in the house and owned its space inside without hesitating. It was the first time I noticed more shadows than people in the house.

One of the new neighbours, her eyes very distinct and alert, sat quietly staring oddly at me. The thing about eyes is they communicate so much. I could understand that we were thinking about the same thing, the shadows. I offered her a slice of cake and a margarita, hoping she would open up. She took the cake but didn’t touch the mixture. She wanted to say something, I guess, but after finishing the cake she just calmly bid goodbye and left. When she opened the backyard door, I saw a big scar on her hand, similar to the one my husband had. When I had asked him before, he had told, ‘I don’t remember, maybe I cut my hand while fitting the electrical.’ The oddness that I felt at home now was something surreal. The cut marks looked so strangely identical. One of the new neighbours whispered in my ear, “She is the lover of this house’s previous homeowner and the bonsai on your window was her gift to him.” I quietly stared at her while she was leaving. A shadow stepped into her, and I couldn’t tell them apart anymore and got lost in a giant shadow of a mountainous landscape.

Post-mid-night when all the guests left, the house was quiet again. It took me to a serene peacefulness that allows you to isolate yourself from the external disturbances of everyday life. Thinking and giggling about the time I just spend with my friends; I was keeping the leftovers in the fridge. I heard some footsteps sound in the hallway, and then in the bedroom. I perked up from the kitchen to check. I knew it’s not my husband, I could see him re-arranging the living room. Those footsteps were too patterned, too heavy, too broken, and too strange.

I yelled to my husband to go check inside in the shrillest tone that almost made him jump. A dog started barking on the street, and something heavy surrounded the house. Holding his hand, we went to our bedroom. The faint and smoky gleam of the midnight stars illuminated the room and a pungent smell sounded us. Suddenly I felt heavy, eyes were getting harder to stay open. I noticed the windows are still open to the moonless night. As I stepped closer to close the window there was a sweet mingling of the scent of grass and dew outside resting in eerie silence. While crashing down to the bed I noticed that the old bonsai was not there on the window. I heard a phantom whisper, ‘I’m leaving the house in your care.’ My eyes widened, my heart stopped, and I was frozen. Goosebumps! Did I really hear that? Did I really see a shadow? Or was it just too much tequila?