Punarmilāma
Flash Fiction: ‘Memories don’t simply fade after grass burns away; shadows remain like the beautiful hibiscus from childhood memories shared in the gardens of destiny, where our mothers were to be friends.’
My tear-stained face stared into the dark abyss where your heart had once been—a radiant light in your life, now a castaway shadow. I sank before your blazing sky wall, its fiery rage consuming the jungle where we had come alive. Amber flames danced in hypnotic escape, as the trees mounted their last stance against the roaring rumbles. Careless trails of destruction spread lifeless defeat, leaving only the smouldering remains of soul-crushing torment. Depths of inhumanity burnt our understory in karmic poisoning. The sun disappeared, and the ashes of my bewildered mind scattered amongst the pieces of my broken heart.
The smoky air stifled my breathing, but still, I called your name. In this nightmarish dream, I searched for you, my inseparable friend. You were nowhere, yet everywhere—a hauntingly beautiful memory, a spectre holding a skeleton key. Pray to be near me at our next birth, vāllabhya.
The birds no longer sang; everything precious was now an inferno of flames, a knife turning in my chest, of a love wildly misread. My atman was yours, Gemini twin. Separate but inseparable, I saw, heard, and was deeply hurt by your words, for in my silence came the loudest screams.
Our jungle was full of strangers, you and I, and I wept for you, anurāga. I, too, could have run, but what good would losing you do, mitra, but circle back to me? Memories don’t simply fade after grass burns away; shadows remain like the beautiful hibiscus from childhood memories shared in the gardens of destiny, where our mothers were to be friends. Stop me, please, my breath, my being.
Dark clouds suffocated me, fear invading every crevice of my shattered heart, haemorrhaging the slow agony of loss. But sadness always finds you, mitra, and it devours me. I hold my breath, for this pain is all I have left of you. I, too, hoped we would always be close. I fell to my knees, and a voice called to me from the wings of a blazing phoenix.
“What’s the matter, bālaḥ?” asked the burning bird.
“Garuda,” I choked. “I think I’ve lost a soul friend.”
“The sun will rise again.”
“But I didn’t get to say goodbye.”
“Closure comes from within.”
The fire intensified, my words fighting its wild approach.
“Whenever I open my heart, it gets destroyed.”
“How will you know if you don’t keep trying?”
“But I’m tired, and if I’m not perfect, I’m not loved.”
“You have yourself to love.”
“But no one will stay, and nothing remains.”
“You cannot fight the winds of time.”
Our screaming wildfire had stolen you in its flickering fury, leaving a red sky in a sea of green snakes. My skin seared, and my eyes stung, returning me to our days of the jungle’s grace. You laughed, and we played in the green grass of mossy vines, you and me, in our love, free.
“I’m sorry, Garuda,” I said as the fire encircled us. “I loved him so much.”
“I know, prema, but I’m here now. And as I am, so are you.”
“Ahaṃ tvayi snihyāmi,” I said, nestling safely in his wings.
The flames engulfed us, but in the fire, I could breathe.
“Garuda, can we stop this firestorm?”
“You can, but you must let go, bālaḥ.”
“But I’ll lose the radiant presence of my friend.”
“They are in your atman to love. Everything dies and is reborn. Even the jungle must sometimes burn to survive.”
I stared at his wings afire, a mirror to the East, wishing only still for you.
“I have to let go,” I said. “It’s all he will accept.”
The fire slowly retreated, awakening a blue sky.
“You are your home, prema, and never alone.”
I wiped my tears as Garuda’s fiery wings flapped goodbye. He flew west into the last of our jungle flames. In the recesses of my mind, his words and you remained as our jungle simmered: I was love, loved, and had always been home.
The birds called a new song, and with a faraway smile, I remembered you. I listened in peace and truth, resting in the flames that would carry me through. One step east or west, I wish you the best. Punarmilāma, my inseparable friend, until we meet again.
***
Rachel Buttigieg loves wildlife. She spends her downtime appreciating the natural world.
