A 100 days to a new me: Day 32, on mass consciousness and a story to follow

Day 8-9 into Viral and the sneezing is returning just as I shake out the now empty box of meds and throw it into the bin. I seem to be becoming quite the medicine aficionado , I took the entire course, without missing once! It is an achievement with me and maybe I am becoming more contentious.

The kids and their parents are visiting Nani (maternal grandmother).The house is quiet, and my room seems to be the hub of activity. The entire day I have the chattering of maids and if you remember the two month old Flora, as everybody now  calls her(my maid’s daughter) ans Spiro our Chihuahua (a rather long name for supposedly the world’s smallest dog…no?) who is fascinated that there is finally someone his size. His expressions are worth looking at; he wants to go near her but maintains a cautious distance.

I am deteriorating, melting with the Viral, turning into a semi-solid mass of flesh and bones. Well aren’t humans flesh and bone masses to start with…well I mean a mass that like those energy figures in movies…the ones that are just silvery shapes, mercuyish…and how they melt into these puddles of nothingness. Yes I am today, or rather was yesterday, a big puddle of nothingness. I have had various almost out of body experience, in a matter of hours. I don’t stand behind or in front of my body, or do I? but I have these distinct moments of snap, and I am from a distance, looking at the computer screen.

I the living person and I the person in the blog, have at times started becoming separate entities. I think she feels better than I do, and I type better than she does. Whether the disassociation facilitates the writing or the writing has germinated from the process of disassociation is something I need to yet decide, and can I do it in a detached manner, I don’t know.

Am I  the only one who feels it ? I doubt, I doubt there is anything at all that we as humans can be original about anymore…including this one. Eliot’s said it, and then there is the concept of mass unconscious by Carl Jung or even the theory of monopsychism, the belief that all humans share one and the same eternal consciousness, soul, mind or intellect.http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monopsychism.

I wonder if this story that I hurriedly wrote on the theme Green for my writers meet on Sunday, is a resultant of such inherited symbols? It is definitely not a part of my conscious, cultural heritage which is more likely to have women fashioned out of dust and heat, salt and sweat. I guess I shall leave it for you to read and decide.The only things I researched was the names, which I looked for after I had finished the first and nearly final draft.

States of Green

Hebe shuddered as a long finger nail, painted almost a gothic black beckoned her. Attached to it was a long slender finger that belonged to a body which was as slender, almost transparent in its luminosity.
The face was chiseled to perfection, taut and hard as it was beautiful. High cheekbones, perfect cupid shaped lips that were too thin to invoke a hot, pulsating passion. The most compelling were the eyes, deep green and hard as emeralds. One look could send a deep chill down Hebe’s spine for days.

She was thankful for the doe skin body suit that kept her warm under the thick, white shifts the staff was required to wear, even when the chilling North winds blew. She ensured, that her hair was firmly tucked in her bonnet, her eyes downcast and her demeanor completely bereft of any color. She wore doe skin slippers, to avoid her feet touching the floor which was too cold for her.

Fannadĩs was back from a particularly long journey. She had gone alone with a fury that matched no other, and even the tall and unshakable doors of the castle had shuddered, before closing behind her. The sounds of her rage even permeated the thick walls of the castle. As the tall vases on the mantle wobbled and the mirror threatened to jump from the wall and shatter; Hebe huddled in a corner, and put her hands over her ears.

Fanndis has returned victorious yet again, her white satin gown, was now a sheath of green, a mass of soft foliage as the lands outside were covered deep in snow. She looked ruffled but victorious, her eyes shining an even harder green, gloating with a cold pride. It was time for her bath.

A long tub of lucent white was laid with water from the nearby glacier, and laced with giant ice flakes and large white flowers, that grew only in the lower echelons of the castle.

Fanndis stepped out of her gown and stepped into the bath. The white-adorned maids looked on as she immersed herself in the ice-cold bath with an icy pleasure. Her stichless body was ever inch as white and supple as the first layer of soft snow that covers turns the world, into a fairy-tale white. However there was nothing soft about Fannadĩs adis, her godess-like body was a perfect ice sculpture – slender legs, a thin waist and high pointed breasts, her long platinum blond hair streaming down her back–untouched by passion.

  The castle was a white refuge lit with neon light emanating from age-old icicles. The staff consisted of nubile young virgins who had yet not experienced the stirrings of passion. No man was allowed in, not even the sun.

 As the white flower started to turn an unusual red at the edges, Fannadis’ eyes widened and radiated a rare sparkle which for a moment made them a melting, liquid green. She screamed and jumped out of her bath as she noticed the miscreant, a lone stream of light that had penetrated a crack in the roof. Fannadis ran to the refuge of her ice-room, where no such invasion could happen, her feet leaving behind increasingly bigger puddles of water.

 Hebe let out a deep breath.. it was time. She kicked off her shoes and ran out into the snow sheathed gardens as she tore apart her maid’s garb. She stepped out of her doe skin suit to reveal a nubile, lissome maiden wearing a wispy green dress that let the sun stream all over her. She pulled off her bonnet to reveal soft golden locks that reached her thighs.

 As the sun caressed her body, leaving soft butterfly kisses all over, she lifted her ambrosia-heavy lids. Her eyes were a soft moss green, the colour of a newly uncurled fern.

Hebe smiled as the snow began to melt in round patches, where her bare feet had touched the ground.

 

 

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “A 100 days to a new me: Day 32, on mass consciousness and a story to follow

  1. I liked the disintegration of the personality into the daily woman and the writer and the entanglement of two inspiring each other… and your story is just awesome.. it is as if you simply painted it…

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s