“What are you doing fiddling with the phone. Writing?
Why don’t you do something useful?
Like plucking these greens. Only the tender stems and leaves. Discard the grainy flowers and hard stems. It is part of cooking, which is a life skill after all.”
I stare at the swirling mass of greens and brace myself for the impending task ahead. My mind wanders, soaking my thoughts with some run away imagination.
I begin my quest. I shrink and am suited with an armour and sword and find myself submerged in the deepest part of the dark and forbidding woods. I lie entangled within those very greens that obscure my view. The intense and raw forest smells are overwhelming. I push, shove at the clinging vines and relentlessly hack through the stems thick and gnarled like ancient enchanted branches, as they curl, twist and turn and hold me captive. I don’t give up as I cut and then collect the soft stems and leaves in my rucksack. Progress is painfully slow. Every move is a struggle. I grow weary and sleeply. Still I go on. I realize after what seems like an eternity that my back pack remains light and the complex tangled mass of darkness shows no sign of retreating. It threatens to swallow me whole, my efforts, time and wishes.
Resentment sets in and grows into a raging emotion. The knight within snaps and goes on a rampage.
What was I thinking? I am no hero.
What is the point of this all? Why subject a human to such torture? This seems to be one of those ridiculous quests devised by the monstrous master Lorkum just to numb the will and whisk me away to it’s faraway land for more such mundane and humongous never-ending tasks.
The knight within puts forth a solution, feasible and fine. Logical and rock solid.
Just wash, chop and cook it all. Chew the inedible flowers and fibres, swallow what you can and spit the rest out.
I nod and change my strategy. The armour feels snug and the sword grows warm. I stop discriminating as I target all parts of the vile mass of writhing greens.
When I come across wriggly little worms and bugs I hack them too. My rucksack swells and so does my hope of getting out. Soon the stormy green mass begins to shrink and shrivel till it all vanishes with a final swish, hack and rip, giving way to a flood of sunlight. I am free at last.
Copyright © 2019 RajaRajeshwari N