Parents and Children
“I want this one.”
“My dear, you can have them all if you wish, I really can’t keep looking at them for too long you know. In fact, I don’t want to see them at all. What I want is a long vacation”.
“But darling, I won’t be with you during your holiday. You will just get bored.”
“Come away then.”
“And who will look after these poor things.”
“Poor?! That’s just your feminine instinct talking. They are just waiting for that little bit of freedom, like dogs that have not been fed for too long. Then they will just forget about us, you will see.”
“I refuse to believe that! We have nurtured them together, we may not be the best at it, but after all they have no one they can turn to.”
“Indeed. No one. But do they need to turn to someone?”
“Of course! Do you mean to say all the time I have spent on them was for nothing!”
He looked at her eyes that were slowly turning red. A warning sign.
“No, my dear, simmer down. I am sure they are grateful to you.”
She relaxed slowly. Her eyes reverted to the honey-brown colour that her husband so loved.
“I just don’t like not being in control, and that’s all.”
The two parents looked happily at the gurgling infant nestled in her mother’s arms. She was perfect. Healthy, happy and so far, extremely well-behaved. They considered themselves blessed. Their friends already hailed their two sons as the ideal children. Their daughter was about the follow the same route.
“How about violin lessons? She seems inclined towards music.”
He shook his head in a resigned manner. “She seems inclined towards anything you want her to do. My dear, does it matter?”
“Of course it does! This could be an important move darling, imagine, a musician! I must say, I haven’t seen a good one in awhile. I am quite tired of the conventional shebang. Frankly I am running out of options.”
“If you are so tired of it, why don’t you just push it off!”
“Darling, sometimes I fail to comprehend your sense of humour.”
He sat up and looked at her, bemused and even a little excited. It was the look of a person who knew that his confession might send an innocent man to the gallows, but out of curiosity to know what happened next, gave the confession anyway. Children who decided to tie firecrackers to their favourite pet’s tail might have had that look too. It was safe to say that the expression was almost a little disturbing.
“Let her go, just throw her off the board. It would be an interesting experiment.”
She looked at the infinite maze surrounding her with a number of little balls running in narrow routes criss-crossing each other. Some never interacted, some had a few collisions. It had taken them so long to create this. It was haphazard at first, almost juvenile.
“Ah! Those days where every organism had contact with every other organism. How predictable that was. ” She thought to herself. But they both learned to build systems and processes. Some parts of the maze were cordoned off, and each route only interacted with another in the same group.
She touched the tiny, moving, shiny silver ball lightly and smiled, “The fun lies in controlling all the little details.”
The rich cooperated with the rich. The poor stayed with the poor. The maze had various stages, birth, life and death. Not one ball went out of place and there was no chaos, not unless the two wanted it. Sometimes two worlds did collide, and if they did not like the outcomes, the worlds were separated again.
“Sweetheart, I cannot do it, look at the number of other things I will have to change.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. I will help with the rerouting, now push it off!”
“Fine. But, I’ll have you know, this is very difficult for me.”
“You can put her back if you are worried at any point.”
The ball rolled around the floor and came to a standstill.
The girl put her violin down. She looked confused. She stared right ahead and then looked down at the violin. She got up and slowly moved towards her desk. There were some paints and a paintbrush. She started to draw and felt a sudden wave of pleasure as she swept the brush in smooth strokes. Within a short span of half an hour, she created an entire landscape. She looked at it blankly and then ran towards the door of the house. She opened it and kept on running.
She must have been running for an hour after which she suddenly skidded to a stop.
“Why was I doing this?”
“What am I supposed to do next?”
“Wait. Why should I do something next?”
She felt incredibly calm and walked back slowly to her house.
“But I don’t need to go there. I don’t even know why I had to be there earlier.”
The violin teacher found another student. The parents focused on their sons. The boy met another girl. The friends found another confidante. The grandparents focused on their other two grandchildren. The poetry teacher found a new favourite. The brothers, well the brothers never really cared that much earlier, why would things have to change now?
Did she keep walking for a few minutes? Or was it hours? It was hard to tell. Her thoughts held a surreal feeling as if she was just being introduced to them for the first time. Every one of her responses to all kinds of stimuli was a new sensation. She learnt about things that made her angry, sad, happy and excited. Well, there were a few other things that made her have feelings that she could not even name yet! She did not like grey buildings, they looked withered and reminded her of death. She hated playing the violin, and it somehow constrained her. Just her and that blasted instrument against the world, it was a depressing thought.
“Was I going to do that for the rest of my life? How astonishing!”
She came to an abrupt stop.
“So many colours! All on one wall.”
She walked quickly towards the wall and ran her fingers along the yellow lines that turned into purple and then green. Once she encountered a big splash of wet red paint, she stopped.
She didn’t curse though, as expected by most people who accidentally touch wet paint.
A few feet ahead of her was a woman holding a spray painting can.
The ball rolled across the floor and moved towards a small entrance to the maze.
“Dearest. I am sure we can correct this.” He looked reluctantly at her face. His halting gaze slowly met hers.
“What is going on? This isn’t supposed to happen.” She spluttered angrily. Small orange flecks started appearing in her eyes.
“Sweetheart, maybe we should just wait and see what happens next.”
“Maybe, I should stop taking your advice.”
“Simmer down, nothing has happened, it has not made its way too far, we can still stop this.”
“Still? Still? I can stop it anytime I want! Do you hear me?”
Her voice was becoming shrill. Another sign of danger.
“Wait. Just wait. We don’t know anything yet.”
She took a deep breath and exhaled.
“It’s fine. I’m all right. She doesn’t know what is best for her. She will come around.”
The girl walked towards the woman with the paint and tapped her on her shoulders.
“What is this?”
“Graffiti. I have been commissioned by the city to create it.”
“I want to do it.”
“Are you any good?”
“I think so, look at this little corner here. Let me cover it? If you don’t like it, just dump some paint on it.”
“Okay, go right ahead.”
She picked up two cans of crimson and brown paint and drew a rose on the wall, covered with thorns and enmeshed in ribbons of purple and black. Each stroke of color sent a rush of joy through her. Each time she picked up the can, she could foresee the next line she wanted to draw. Each time she put the can down, she got this nagging feeling of doubt about how she could make it better.
When she finished, she felt exhilarated.
“That looks gorgeous! The drawing is extremely intricate! Is this your first time using spray paint?”
“Yes!” She couldn’t believe those words came out of her mouth. So many emotions were running through her. Joy. Surprise. Love. Passion.
The ball moved through the little entrance and inched closer towards another silver ball that was running in its own little route.
“Do you want to join my crew? I can pay you. I will be starting small though. You are talented but a little rough around the edges.”
The ball came closer to the other slowly. The gap was so small now that a baby’s little finger would have fit between the two balls.
“No!”
She picked up the ball and crushed it into fine silver powder. She kept rubbing the powder as if there were bits that weren’t broken completely yet. Her fists were clenched. The other little silver ball paused for a long time and then rolled ahead.
“How dare she? How could she be happy? Happy not because of something I did for her, but something she did for herself? How is that fair?” She asked him furiously.
“I know dear, I mean, after all the work you put into her. It’s rather distasteful.”
She fumed.
“Were those tiny spires of smoke coming from her? Her anger always found innovative ways to present itself.” He thought to himself.
A part of him was aware she would do it. He understood her, well, at least half of her. There was still a slight amount of unpredictability that he could not fathom. Oh, how she loved control. The idea that every single thing could be mapped out ahead of time. No surprises. She knew exactly what was happening at any point. Of course, that was entirely his fault. If he hadn’t become so disinterested in the world, she would have never assumed control of it in the first place. Maybe that was her doing. Maybe that is how she wanted it to be. He shivered slightly.
“What are you thinking about?” She snapped at him.
“Sweetheart, sometimes you are so lusciously frightening. I am afraid that you might have a little silver ball running away in a small maze of its own for me too.”
She looked intrigued.
“Oh dearest, you know what? I am perfectly capable of doing that.”
She cleaned her hands. The powder was gone. All that was left was a little, thorny rose covered by veins of purple and black paint drawn at a small corner, somewhere in the world.
“The fun lies in controlling all the little details.”
