There were smaller incidents

Janaab dutifully entered a big white room full of fresh flowers randomly scattered on the floor. A small flight of marble stairs led to this empty room which smelt more of people than of flowers. In it had come many men and women unknown to each other and from it had left many others.

Janaab was the man who would decorate the room once again like a bride. He looked thoughtfully at the colors on the floor and the patterns they could make. Unlike all days, he lied down in the middle of the flowers, his head touching a few yellow ones and his feet crushing a few red ones. He thought of the many days and many years he had lived in these; how the flowers changed every day and how with them had he.

This room was one of the guest rooms of his employer, Raja.

Janaab thought -

"These strangers - roses

These strangers, I come to

The red petals, commanding

Their helplessness makes me weak

The smells tire me

The colors make me old

They were beautiful when they were young

Now, they wear masks of youth

and arrive everyday

They are no more fresh than I am

I can step on them

and refuse their art

I can sleep on them

and let them lay underneath me."

Janaab stretched his legs crushing a few red roses. He felt free of the many years he had lived, he felt liberated and light.

The smells got together and attacked his rebellion, Janaab shifted and in a while the room was decorated with more beauty than it ever was.

Shringi

September 11, 2011

dedicated to the short-lived rebellion in us.