Blahsphemy

Baba Yaga has never seen a horse.Whenever he goes out he always kept an eye and an ear open for a horse. But that elusive being has always tried to evade Baba. Until that day. The heavens were giving the village a proper dunking. Baba was feeling restless. Who likes to sit and watch while the raindrops make merry? So he ventured out. In front of his house was a huge puddle. He could see his face in it. He was admiring his face when a huge stone landed in the puddle. The water splashed all over. Baba got startled and neighed with all his might. He heard the neighbour's children shout "Stupid Horse." He quickly looked around. But there was none.

He looks the same. He even has my hairstyle and beard. He has befriended my family and friends. The most annoying fact is that no one seems to realise that it's him and not me. I have become the outsider who looks like the insider who is the outsider.

Death came again. Off late its been a frequent visitor. A part of the family. Today here, tomorrow there. It drops in uninvited without fail, leaving a vacuum in its wake. Erasing faces, adding a rich hue of sadness to memories.

Did you see that? He didn't even look in my direction. I think he is ignoring me nowadays. I was his favorite a few years back. Those were the days. We used to go to office together. We used to hangout together. We met his girlfriend together. The three of us used to have good fun. Beach, movies, concerts, pubs... things have changed. I think he doesn't even know where my keys are. I am now just a receptacle for dust and rust.

I haven't done it for quite some time. Some say it shows. I have started to notice it too. I have started to fear it. I have suddenly become a stranger to it. Blank white spaces give me palpitations. I try to stare them into submission in vain. I can't remember the last time I heard the sweet clickety-clack. I always say someday I will do it. Is today someday?

I am the king of Andalusia. Don't ask me where is it on a map. I have never looked at a map to figure out where my country is. I was born there so I never had to resort to a map. I am a pirate. I don't have a ship. The ship that I sail the seas belong to my victims. I got this one from a rich Arab. Wondering how do I go around without a map or a compass? I am like the wind. I have no plans. I go wherever I please. I never wait for anyone. I have no direction. I make the windmills go round and round till they are dizzy. I am a wanderer. I am a free spirit. I am the king of Andalusia. I am a pirate. I don't have a map or compass. I don't have a ship. I am like the wind. No I am the wind.

He turned the tap and waited for the familiar whoosh of emptiness. For him this has become a ritual. It's been years since even a drop trickled down that spout. He never bothered to think why. For him it was just a ritual now. It all started on one sweltering summer day when he wanted a sip to slake his thirst. The tap was like a mirage in the hot afternoon sun. He scalded his fingers touching it. All that he wanted was a cool splash. All that came out was a warm gust of air. He fiddled with the tap again. Frustration goaded him to kick the tap. But he couldn't. Instead he became obsessed with it. He wanted to drink the first drop that comes out through that tap. When will that day be? He doesn't know. All that he knows is that the chances of water coming out of a disconnected tap is as rare as the drop of water for which he was waiting.

Its been six seconds. Why isn't he pulling the cord to release me? Has the adrenaline fogged his reflexes? Is he pushing his luck? Has he passed out? Or has he lost count of the seconds? Either way it's not a good sign for me. He should have let me free. But then why hasn't he tugged at the release cord? He is going to make me look like a complete fool. He is going to ruin my show. He is going to pay dearly for his folly. For it's only me who can help him ease gravity's pull and guide him to safety. Till he figures out his life let me enjoy the free-fall at least.