Fantasia and Rains

You’re the fire that longs to burn the winds; you’re the wind that can no longer bear to see the fire burn. You’re the final verdict on which one is better.


In the monotonous realm of the gods, there once was an outlaw; the one god who barely tended to the rituals and the prejudices. Amusing it is, to discover that someone as mighty as a god is bound in chains of immortality.


And in the realm of the mortals, there once was a fair and rare lady; so rare and so fair that her perfection brought them boundless joy and ecstasy. It wouldn’t be entirely incorrect to say that she had them by their balls.


The outlaw, so gracefully handsome and magnificent that the oracles moaned every full moon and writhed in pain when they gazed upon his future, for no dead or living could dare to mesmerize him, or sleep with him. The woman, so beautiful and radiant, that the gods once fought with each other to death and passed into oblivion just to spend a second in her arms.


Yes, the dream was grand enough.


Every night, he would gaze endlessly at her everlasting pulchritudinous while both the realms slept. And of course once every fortnight, the oracles would find a moment to cry for his ill-fated luck. Love might be a fortunate thing, for it has no limits, but the unfortunate end of love is that it gives unprecedented animation and hunger to give cause to actions worth a lifetime of regret.


And one such old unfortunate night, the fire could not bear its divorce from the moth and decided to reach for it. Yes, the fire left the bed of coals for the impossible love. The air of segregation was dull enough for the god and so, when every other god was asleep in a world of dreams, he stretched his wings and outside her door he sang, just inches away from her impending beauty, washed down by her drunkard husband. An enticing beauty such as her and her husband, an impotent drunkard.


The gods are a screwed up family. History has it that they gifted Aphrodite to Hephaestus; the most beautiful goddess gifted to the lamest of the gods. It was Aphrodite’s fable all over again. Pain cut through his heart in streams and to save his aching soul, he committed a crime that night.


Yes, the god traded his soul to save her and in the process, save himself. He robbed her husband of his life that unfortunate night, masqueraded as her husband, and devoured the forbidden fruit. He lay with her that night. Under the lights of the seven heavens, he made love to her. It bothers and fascinates the mind to imagine what kind of love a god and a human would share. Was it wild, like two savages devouring each other’s bodies and soul or was it subtle, like a god blessing a woman with the gift of a gentle death? The heavens wept when they witnessed such love, for in the darkest of times, love hadn’t given up yet. Strangely enough, the love was against the laws. Their love was a sin.


This wasn’t love. This was poetry, beautiful and naked!


The following morning, he gazed at her for a brief eternity and fled back to the realm of gods, only to leave her with no memory of the night but his seed in her womb. She forgot almost everything but he couldn’t leave her without a memory and so, when she bore his child, the inevitable happened. With his part tearing through her womb, the night returned to her. And as the truth flashed before her eyes, she rushed with her life and with the last kiss of her child, she kissed the afterlife. The unfortunate thing about love came back to haunt them.


Destined to bless the heavens upon her death, she cursed the Holy Father and refused to enter. She lay there, in agony and pain, and wept calling out for the god who loved her. He waited for the seven heavens to coincide whilst her tears flooded the realm. The day arrived soon when he could no more bear her tears and forgot what evil would dance upon his future if he let the older gods know that he had defied their will. The gods probably aren’t a huge fan of insults by their own kind. He walked through her tears and with each cursed step, the tears started to pour on the earth with such intensity that the world burned in their love. He walked up to her and kissed her and before he could say a word, the gods put him in a cage and abandoned him to the underworld. The rains, blessed by their love, had a divine touch and any living beings who felt the drops on their skin became immortal and left the world for an eternity, but not before they had imbibed the love of the one they truly worshipped.


The sinful rains!


She now lies where she once did and calls for the god to come back to her while he is banished in his cage to see her demise, and curse himself. He waits for the exile to end while she cries. Someday, when the cage breaks and he is finally free, he will reach out for her for it is love that is the true god and not the immortals who despise love. He will come to her and tell her that he still loves her and will beg for forgiveness from the gods. There is a scary uncertainty that the gods would not forgive him and send him to the exile again, for another forever. But not before he tells her how much he loves her. And then, there will be rains. Maybe they won’t meet again forever, but there will be rains. Maybe the light in her eyes will fade and die and maybe he will rot in his cage but there will be rains.


And maybe, this all is a fantasy which may never come true but there will be rains if only fantasia finds a way back home!


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