Wednesday, September 02, 2009

Rigor Mortis -- A story in many parts

Part II

(For Part I, go here)

One heartbeat. Beating hard down the length of the small torso.
One pulse. Traversing the breadth of the miniature hand.
One breath. Sailing deep into the awakening lungs.
Such was the evidence of this life.

And she was alive. Delivered safe into the hands of a life we know not why and the mercy of a God we know not where.

Her name was Maya. This was of no importance however. Names as we all know only gain importance through consciousness. And she, was as yet, only partly conscious. She flailed her limbs, she opened her eyes, she cried out loud and she had a name. She was all animal except that she was named. Well, sometimes animals have names too. So really there wasn’t that much of a difference.

There was something about her though. Something that could only be touched carefully. With clean hands. Something so delicate it seemed almost like she would be erased if held hard; melt into the cradle and disappear into the tiled floor. When hands approached to hold her, she would fold into herself. Cringe. Diminish and hold still. This they would remember many years later. When she cracked.

The vagaries of time. The things people move back and forth in memory and recollection. Many years hence, they would say almost as if they had had a premonition, “Even when she was a baby, there was something about her.”