Reflections

It might be a mindset, but come December, or the conventional end of year, I start to reflect on life and how my part in this gigantic play is panning out. Have my acting skills improved? How am I dealing with the unexpected? Am I doing enough to perfect my act? Is acting still fun? (Forgive the cliché analogy of life and play acting!) 

Reflections give me pause: that moment to breathe in the air, soak in the sunshine, and dance in the rain. It is a moment of complete me-ness; that time of the year when I am perfectly honest with myself, and almost always at peace with myself. 

As the years have passed these reflections have become more profound. Age does offer me that pinch of salt to face the growing number of disappointments and frustrations, the increasing number of times a straight road decides to take a twisted bend (not one of those picture perfect bends but quite the opposite) and the heightened knowledge that life is not the bed of roses you once imagined it to be. Reflections with a pinch of salt allow me, on the other end of the pool, to appreciate the small things better, to tap myself on the back and be happy that I got through another year. To look around at the people surrounding me and laugh from my heart at their pleasures and love them with my soul. 

This time round, December has started of with an in-depth journey to self-understanding. I have discovered that I am a creature who yearns for control. Situations or tasks that I don't have complete control over throw me off balance (ricochet me off to planet stress-abundance, would probably be more fitting a statement). I think I have known this for a long time now, but merely seeing it at its core has allowed me to respond to my crazy behaviour when faced with such times. I can now safely count till ten before I land myself softly and quietly on planet stress-abundance. This is a small tiny step, but one that appeases me, nonetheless.

There are other things that I am learning, or re-learning, about myself: I do not like confrontations. I love cheese - in-fact I am a foodie. I abhor standardised solutions on how to live life (they irritate me). And, so many other small delicious self discoveries follow. Reflections of these kind always pave the way for me to journey on a magnificent road, called me. It's far from perfect, but it is a lovely reminder that there is much beauty here on this road...

Football Fever - The early symptoms

Football is the most exciting sport on earth. That is a fact, and not up for debate. Anyone who would even think about debating this point, know now that this post is probably not something you can relate to.

I've grown up with football and sheer football mania is something that has oozed into my being and will not ooze out. Truth be told, I watched a lot more football when I was in high school - I was a regular premier league addict and even more of a Brasileiro série A fan.

As I've passed through uni, and progressed into the realm of the working world, the time I spend watching football games on TV has reduced dramatically, so has the inclination. I still have a good idea though, of what is the latest in the world of the EPL and the Champions League (I mean who wouldn't have an idea with all the accessibility to this information, promotions and hype!) and love watching a game whenever I can.

The one thing that hasn't changed is my addiction and dedication (I use this word on purpose), in watching the Football World Cup! There is absolutely no event (Apart from the Olympics, I suppose) that comes close to the excitement of this sporting event.

Next year is going to be phenomenal. The world cup comes home, to Brazil. South American football, without doubt, has its own flavour and magic - fancy footwork, star players, passionate crowds and a sheer love for the game, set to the background of football manic countries, promises to have a lasting impression! Can anyone ask for more?

As it stands, the final groups were announced over the weekend and this is going to be another interesting world cup. We have England and Italy facing off, France pretty much being in an easy group, and Argentina and Brazil having stiff challenges, at the early stages. It will also be interesting to see how the "minnows" perform.

All in all, the journey is gaining pace and the fun begins... (minus the tension, for now). I can't wait for Brazil 2014!!! Whoop!

Little Red.... And Goodbye

Little Red is (I suppose I should say, was) not your typical fairytale girl dressed in a red riding hood, off to meet her grandmother. Little Red, believe it or not, has never met a wolf (at least, not as long as I have known her)

Over the last two years, Little Red has been a big part of my life. In fact, we went almost everywhere together. It all began with my growing frustration and quotidian weariness with commuting using matatus (for those who are unfamiliar with the term matatu: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matatu) and buses. This together with a darling family resulted in my hook-up, so to speak, with Little Red.

When I first saw Little Red, I was still awed and unsure about our meeting. She did look just about right, though. Fate bound us and I took my first, little steps into a whole new lifestyle. Little Red - my new red colour Toyota Raum, took me to work and back, as never before. I would cautiously and nervously drive down Mombasa Road and avoid all the scary highway turns, matatu infested roads and traffic-frenzied roundabouts. The quieter, albeit pot-hole prone roads were better for us.

Slowly, Little Red and I got to know each other better (And yes, Little Red was definitely a she. Her love to get ripping, her absolute dislike and reaction to stupid drivers and her taste of destinations made it pretty obvious!) With every journey we grew more confident with each other. And soon, I was no longer dreading the roads, but enjoying my time driving around, cursing in traffic and singing my favourite songs out loud.

Little Red was many a time, my refuge. I would laugh with her and cry tears with her. Some days, it would be time spent with her that inspired me with brain waves, ideas and beautiful thoughts. I shared my heart breaks with Little Red, and my happy thoughts too. Best of all, I shared cheeky, fun moments with her. Like the time she purposefully followed a car, just because it looked good! Or, the first time I drove myself to a dinner party - how much fun!

Little Red did pull some crazy stunts: there was the time she decided that she was sick of her front wheel and went ahead and burst! Poor appa (dad, in Tamil) was in the car and had to dictatorially tell Little Red to get a grip! I think she did learn her lesson. She was off in ICU for nearly a month and that seemed to have curbed her temper and when she was back on the road, you could tell that she had been injured. Soon, she was back to her wily, old self and was busy taking me and friends out on memorable errands, parties and even farewells.

Little Red had a personality. With appa she was super dainty and well-behaved. With Shalini, my sister, she was a regular speedy Gonzales and with me she was just her usual, crazy self.

Once, on a trip to the airport, some crazy dude decided to mess with her and gave her a good knock out! Out cold again, Little Red recovered relatively fast from her injuries, but was definitely starting to show signs of ageing! That certainly didn't knock the fun out of her and Little Red and I have continued being best of pals, driving new, scenic routes together and daring just a little more every day!

Sadly, I had to let her go! Little Red was ready. She wanted some R&R. She was sad to go, but happy to get her goodbye's done quick and easy! I said bye to Little Red today - my first car! I can't help loving my first car, my Little Red - here's wishing her a lovely journey ahead!

Bathrooms...and aesthetics

The word bathroom is defined as, "a room containing a bathtub or shower, and usually a sink and toilet." Considering that it has a significant impact on my day to day hygiene, it hardly seems a wonder that whenever I am travelling and wherever I am travelling to, one of my central considerations is the availability of this facility. 

Over the years, very few bathrooms have actually met my approval. They are either too small, too dirty, too ugly or too boring. A bathroom needs space, personality, air and grooming! Think about it. The bathroom is your sanctuary and in truth one of the most personal spaces you will ever have. 

It therefore never fails to irritate me, when I see housing with bathrooms the size of a peanut. I'm sure everyone can relate to the tremendous annoyance when you are trying to walk into the bathroom and the door practically opens into the loo? For those of you who are as peevish as me, this means that unless you are wearing clothes that are as tight as your skin, you have to ensure you are clinging onto everything on you, aiming to ensure that nothing is touching the bathroom doors, loo or the floor (try this with a shawl,stole or a saree!) Eventually, you manage to squeeze into the bathroom, close the door and do your business. You then proceed to wash your hands in the sink that is barely inches away from the loo and breathe thankfully as you leave this nightmarish room. 

Then, you have the bathrooms that are very much like the ones mentioned above, with an added twist - welcome, shower area! Kudos to architects and builders who manage to accomplish this; an extra round of applause for those who think of taking into consideration a raised platform, partition or shower cubicle. This way there is no chance of shower water draining all over the bathroom floor. One only needs to manage to get past the obstacle course (door, loo and sink) and reached the shower, then proceed to grapple on how to keep your towel dry, actually move around enough to clean your entire body and get out of the shower without tainting yourself by touching sink, loo or door. But yes, YAY! We have a partitioned shower.

It gets worse when the partition is just a dreamed up apparition! You have had a long tiring day, forget about taking a shower, how about just washing your feet? You open the dreaded bathroom door and voila! Someone has been to the room already ....and taken a shower, and not bothered to clean up. Now all you have to deal with is a stream of water - possibly carrying grime and definitely sprawling with germs ... that you need to walk through to clean your aching feet, which is pointless at this point, if you mean to walk back and out of the bathroom. Let's not even get to the point where you would want to utilise the loo!

To be fair, I have seen and used (sadly) small bathrooms that are extremely clean and have enough ventilation to keep things sane. Thank goodness (and cleanliness) for the owners of small bathrooms who care enough to keep things clean. Because, there are bathrooms of all sizes and shapes that are worse than any of the above mentioned - unclean, shoddy, messy, stinky, dark and gloomy!

And it is these purposefully ugly bathrooms that annoy me the most. We spend a good deal of time in bathrooms. One should want to be in there and not be aiming to rush in for a quick water beating and rush out. A good bathroom needs to be AIRY, FRESH, SPACIOUS, ORGANISED (Cabinets and wall shelves go a long way here!) SUPER CLEAN, and BRIGHT (don't forget to keep those mirrors sparkling, so you can dance in front of them dressed, undressed or somewhere in between). The bathroom is the most important room in your house/living space and should be a place you enjoy spending plenty of time in. So go on, spend extra time, effort and yes, money on your bathroom! If not, don't bother inviting me over!

Here are a few links with pictures of what I would consider nice bathrooms:

http://www.houzz.com/photos/946469/West-Isles-Kid-s-Bath-traditional-bathroom-minneapolis

http://www.houzz.com/photos/2629804/Laguna-Beachfront-Contemporary-contemporary-bathroom-orange-county

For those with smaller bathrooms, look at the awesome bathrooms here:

http://freshome.com/2012/10/09/30-small-bathroom-design-ideas/

And use the simple tips and ideas found here:

http://www.realsimple.com/home-organizing/decorating/bathroom/bathroom-design-ideas-00100000104729/#1

Drifting on a lonely sea...

My heart begins to race any time

A sound escapes my phone -

From excitement and hope, 

Anxiety and dread.

My heart begins to race any time 

I dream of us together,

And then reality comes in, an unwelcome guest

Leaving me forsaken - dead alone.

My heart begins to race any time

I think of life-happy with you,

And nearly stops in sadness,

For this may never be the life I know

My heart races every time

And slowly, it quietens down.

The sound from my phone, 

Is never yours;

That dream I have of happiness, 

Slips from my grasp and drifts afar;

Life as it should be

Is but dust at my feet.

My heart is numb and no longer alive -

Unaware of life,

Unaware of us.

Passion & Drive - Random thoughts

Lately, I've been thinking about these words - passion and drive, and amazing possibilities swim before me. Who would've thought that two simple words can have so much potential?

But, that's just what it is - an appetising bowl, full of dreams and hopes coming to fruition. Think about that clear, sunny day with clear, blue skies and the excitement of a nice drive along green pastures and elegant trees. You stop near this hill, surrounded by the smell of wild grass, and have an impromptu picnic - and out comes the passion fruit - golden and orange, a promise of sweet goodness inside. You happily break the fruit into half and suck at the juicy pulp inside, cooling your insides with a remarkable taste of freshness! Who would've thought that passion can be so rewarding?

While you stretch yourself on your picnic mat and look up into the sky, drifting thoughts fill your mind. How often do you hear the clichéd advice, about doing what you love and being passionate about your work in order to achieve success? It is quite obvious that where there is passion and drive, success will follow. The question is, what happens to those people who have a job and do it to their best ability, but are not passionate about it? Do we write them off as failures, or brush them aside as people who will never attain greatness in what they do? Should we recommend that they forge ahead and find something else to do - something they can display passion for and have a drive to excel in? Is there a single formula that can work for everyone?

I think not. Sometimes, passion and drive do not necessarily come from loving what you do, but from love of something else. A parent will work at the most miserable of jobs, so he/she can give their child all things possible. The happiness in her/his child's eyes is their drive, the smile spreading on the lips of dear ones, their passion! That is only one example. I am sure we have all met people who are brilliant at something, but are almost struggling through life - working at a job they don't like or are not brilliant at. What of it? We shake our heads at them and think, if only they would try their hand at this - fame, fortune, wisdom - it would all be theirs. But do we really understand? Perhaps, satisfaction in something else entirely is their passion and drive!

Thoughts drift again...passion. What a tantalizing word - and then you add drive to it and there you have it again: a sumptuous coming together of things. What drives us to passion - the more carnal and intimate longing? Is it lust, or is it love? Is it the culmination of both? the breaking open of that passion fruit to satiate our thirst for wholesome sweetness? That sweet pleasure of kissing that person just a little while longer and with an extra serving of zeal? The promise of oneness - a celebration of all your dreams and hopes coming together for treasured moments of complete love - is perhaps what drives us to passion of any kind, after all

The sun begins its descent...and you pack up your little impromptu picnic things. Time to head back to the car and the pleasant drive home - with a little, orange coloured, passion temptingly peeking on the seat next to yours...

This one is for the ellis!

Tumaini – My Hope for Earth

It is a round world after all! And you can't walk to the ends of the earth and fall over – rather difficult to believe, as you look at eternity from the edge of a hill, into an abyss of green and brown; trees and hard rock. You skid, stumble and grip air to halt your fall, watching as the tiny rocks at your feet, disappear down into oblivion.

“Bump!”, you land on your behind. The vacant expression on your face is gradually replaced by a concoction of confusion, realisation, panic and relief, as you turn away from the edge. There is a flash of a camera and you know your comical look will soon be plastered and viewed across the world on too many social media sites. 

Cautiously, you attempt to stand and move further away from what could have been the world's infamous edge (which no longer lives to its treacherous reputation) and meet the concerned but laughing faces of fellow adventurers.

You sit down and slowly, as you sip on some water and make sure your precious camera is not damaged, a certain normalcy returns: your fingers stop trembling, your feet come alive from their dead-log stupor, you believe in science again and manage to put aside questions about the gravity of the situation.

I look at the craggy drop, barely an inch away from me, and nestle closer to the rock I am hiding behind. How different things look now, from back then. In-fact, the drop below is almost comforting. The people after me will kill me and worse still, the death they offer me will be more painful than what awaits me at the bottom – if there is one – of this fall. I make up my mind: if they find me I will jump.

My one hope is that I have learnt how to cover my tracks – I still have a chance of staying undiscovered. But, even if I stay hidden from them now, would I make it through the night? This isn't exactly a safe haven. I stubbornly contain my anxiety and hopelessly check my phone for connectivity - Murphy's Law is a bitch - my phone battery is dead. I crouch deeper into the earth wishing it would swallow me up, continually grateful for the cloud cover that prevents me from creating enemy shadows.

I stay dead-still as I hear their voices and sense the threat in their foreign words. I have good reason to be terrified. I have seen these men kill. I have seen them slaughter innocent creatures: commit murder more than once. These men are dangerous and they are cowardly. They attack unfairly and kill an unarmed, innocent enemy. I am ashamed to know they are human and therefore kin. I am proud that I have captured their crimes on my camera. I am petrified that I may not be able to expose them - aggrieved that I was helpless to stop them. 

Over the last year, I have spent alternate weekends in this beautiful landscape. My camera (nothing fancy – just a small digital friend), backpack and food are my only companions. There is a consummate sense of peace amidst these lush hills and listening to the river flowing, unmoved by my presence or lack of it, is surprisingly comforting. Who would believe that such muddy waters could look so beautiful? It is beautiful and is made even more breath-taking as I catch a glimpse of big swaying ears, gliding to and fro; smaller, giant feet come into view and graceful trunks playfully dip, pick and spray water everywhere. Every herd I see as precious as the previous one; I can watch these elephants forever. 

How grand! How magical! How tranquil - I remember that feeling now and watch as the killers pass me. I dare not breathe and send silent thank you messages to a God I have never prayed to. I watch as dark clouds turn ominous, and one by one, heavy rain drops cover the earth around me. I tuck in my knees and hug my backpack, protecting it best as I can, as I cower in the downpour. 

Camouflaged behind the shrubs, I see the ripple of grass ahead and it attracts my attention simply because it seems out of place. I doubt a human eye could spot me and I feel proud as I dwell on that. It's the impossible shriek that stirs me out of my self appreciative thoughts. I look ahead to see the herd in chaotic movement and there is another nightmarish cry as one of the bigger elephants falls lifeless to the ground. I am stunned. A pride must have attacked the herd - As horrific and rare as this is, it is the first possibility to strike me. I snatch my camera and rapidly capture photos. I cannot stop as the scene ahead of me unfolds. I am numb and feel the tears roll down my face. I hear a scream coming down from somewhere in the pit of my stomach; I do not understand how I have contained it. 

The rain has finally stopped and I stand up. The rain was a blessing in disguise but I know I must leave here immediately. I turn eastwards; I will make my way to the lodge and from there, to Nairobi. I am not naive and know the chances of escape are low. I do not know where these men or their spies lurk, but this plan is my only hope! I look up and see the first star appear, as I take my first step towards help and away from the destruction I had witnessed.

Time has stopped. I am unable to take more photos. I can see and smell the vomit next to me and make a futile attempt to move away. A more powerful and permanent smell starts to fill my nostrils - blood. I watch the men, their faces imprinted in my mind, carry the ivory they have hacked off my jumbos to the Land Rover. I see their guns, their machetes. They are unfazed by the horrific sights they have created. I yearn to look away, I cannot. None of the herd has escaped. The big tuskers had no chance and the others have been slaughtered, as they bravely tried to protect each other. I have never seen such devastation. I must help – and yet I am unable to move. I do not know what to do: ahead of me are endless beheaded figures, around me bandits who will kill me. I see them picking the last of their stash now and uncaring, they begin their exit. 

I knew it was a mistake to move. It was that slight movement, yonder, that decided me. I wasn’t sure if my eyes had been playing tricks on me. Then it was there again, a plaintive movement: It was a baby, alive and wailing next to its decapitated mother. I crawled out from behind the shrub and as the Land Rover began to drive away, I pressed onward. I must help – it was the only thought I had. I got closer and saw tears run down its normally smiling face. I had watched this herd for days and knew this baby calf. I had seen her come to life. She is patchy with her mother's blood now and distressed. I am almost next to her. I hear the car and turn around; I am not sure why they are back. All I know is that I have to get away. There is a great deal of shouting as they see me. I push the little calf down as hard as I can, crying, hoping she would understand that she should not move. The massacre around me is what saves me. The car cannot pass through and by the time these heartless men are on their feet I have retreated into the thicket. I run hard and pay no heed to the scratches on my body. I frantically try and keep a sense of direction. I know I must try and reach people. These cowards would not harm me in front of others and risk exposure – would they? I keep going. I hear them sometimes, as the tears continue streaming down my face – It is the sickness of it all. Seeing this carnage has left me broken - fast and completely. I stumble on and reach the edge of a hill and see the rock. It is my time to hide. It is my time to do anything I can to show the world that these men deserve punishment – that they deserve death.

It is barely eight hours later. I am being followed. I do not slow down,and maintain my course, close to the main path. The presence behind me doesn't feel harmful – It is in harmony with the sounds of insects and birds surrounding me. There is no moonlight and my progress is slow, but I am hopeful and happy not to have met any lions or leopards (I am unprepared for more adventure). I curse my stupid thoughts of hope as I spy two amber eyes and then four and then too many to count. They are right here - I have walked into a pride. I am tired and scared– what was I to do? I crumple, gracelessly to the ground

There is a movement. I see the silhouette of a lioness stand and walk towards me, pausing and analyzing me – am I a threat? Am I a meal? I catch the swish of her tail. I wish she would understand that I am in trouble and that I must take my photos away from here. I am here to help. I watch her approach and try to maintain eye contact. I can feel her move towards me – the pride behind her are alert. Then, I feel it on my shoulder and I struggle to keep my composure. I am pushed aside, albeit gently, as the lioness steps back and turns away, shrugging off her interest in me with supine haughtiness.

I know we don't have much time before the pride realises that the calf is alone. And in a beautiful moment I realise she isn't alone: she has me and I have her. Perhaps, she does know, in her own sense, that I want to help. I gather myself together and move to the open road with renewed belief. I walk quickly with Tumaini (Hope, as I have named her) by my side. Her sorrow is obvious from the tears still running down her face, her head is drooping and that ever present hint of a smile – so part of an elephant - is missing. But her walk is steady and determined, and we press on.

It has been three months from that day now and I am at the lodge again. I still have trouble sleeping. I will never be the same. There are camera men and journalists around me. My pictures and story have been published on a special edition of National Geographic. I have exposed the murderers: four of them are now in prison. The park has more patrols, and elephant herds here are now protected by rangers, day and night. It is a very small victory considering the massive problem. I am not proud; I am barely moved. But I am humbled, and I am glad I have a small victory to help me do more. Mostly, I am privileged to have a new friend – I look up and see Tumaini, lingering at the edge of the lodge. Her new family begins to walk majestically away but she is looking at me and raises her trunk. I look into her eyes. It is a promise we have made together– a promise to help in any small way!

A Lighter's Willow

“We must go! Oh, how can we not?” Cassa looked desperately at her people as she pleaded, “We cannot miss the Light Willow Ceremony. Don't you see?”

“Cassa, we know that the ceremony is tomorrow but we must not risk leaving here – the enemy will invade our home and destroy it all.” Altur was sure of this and was trying to make Cassa see that their home needed protection.

“If we stay then all of these lands will perish. We will be responsible for that. Our selfishness to protect that which we love will destroy everything. As your leader, I have spoken – We will travel to the heart of Willow Land and be the light for all these lands. If we fail to do this – if we fail to go to the Light Willow Ceremony, and fail in our duty, we will bring about the end of the magic: magic of our own and magic in everyone around us.”

Altur was shaken by the sound of doom and finality in his wife's declaration. He looked into Cassa's blue eyes, hoping to see a sign of hope. In their twenty years of marriage, he had never been opposed, as strongly, to her choices. The weight of this was fast becoming impossible to bear. He approached his wife and held her soft fingers in his. There would be time, later, to convince her that this was madness. For now, he would stand by her and guide their people by her side – he would not forsake her.

Cassa felt Altur's reassuring grip on her hand and felt a sigh escape her. She felt no joy in forsaking her home, but the vision had been clear. Ferntress had also sent a warning. This was the reason Cassa had been born; she knew it with a blinding certainty. “Prepare yourselves! We leave for Willow Land at dawn.” 

Tears brimmed her steel eyes as she watched the other Lighters sombrely moving out of Willow Hall. From the window to her right, she could see her homeland and the dancing, merry lights shining through all the willow trees. Each willow stood proud and tall, houses and centres carved within its hollows. The design of each home was different, intricate details carved by the Lighters themselves. Stain glass paintings decorated the window panes that were made out of pure shimmer – which looked like and behaved like glass, but with magic. Shimmer protected the Lighters and the willows they lived in. It was made of the purest of waters; magic waters only Lighters could find. Shimmer was bright blue and speckled with star-like glitter and yet when you looked through it, it was crystal clear. Shimmer and the lights were what made this land so beautiful. Lights of all colours and shapes (leaves, trees, butterflies, stars – anything with life!) Each light could take on any colour and at times the lights would change colour as if by will to make everything more beautiful. Ferntress used to tell Cassa that the Lighters were as beautiful as their land and as Cassa looked at her people returning to their willows, she knew it was true.

The Lighters were distant relatives of the light fairies and the resemblance was vivid. The men were lean and stood at about two feet high. Altur was the tallest Lighter ever known at two and a half feet. The women were shorter and curvaceous. Lighters had hair the colour of sunshine and eyes the colour of bright blue skies. It was their wings, though, that made the Lighters resplendent. Each Lighter's wings were unique and took on their owner's personality: Altur's were golden and as they moved you could see the shape of a golden, majestic lion – shades of golden yellow and brown came together fascinatingly, evoking visions of a lion protecting its pride. Cassa's wings were heart shaped and rainbow coloured. The edges were tinted by a dizzying number of colours – black, white, gold, silver, amber and more. The heart shape and colour were reflective of the source of life. Other Lighters' wings comprised of flowers, trees, hills, some had written poetry and each depicted the Lighter's own core or skill. 

“Come Cassa, we must prepare to leave.” Altur couldn't help the hint of bitterness in his voice. 

“Altur, please hear me. My vision is clear. If we fail to bring the Grand Willow to life, the ceremony will fail and so will our magic. Our home will never be the same. We may save some of it, but the lights will die. Altur, I need you to help me with your heart. Please do not hate me.”

Altur looked at Cassa and understood that perhaps his sense of loss was blinding him. It hurt him beyond measure that they would lose their home; yet home without the lights was not home. “Cassa, forgive me. My selfishness has cost us time and caused us pain.” Placing his hand on Cassa's heart, he continued, “My life and light are yours to guide and share. We will light the Grand Willow. We will sacrifice our home so magic will live. It will be done as you say.”

Tears poured freely down Cassa's face. Laying her hand over his, she reached up and gave him a lingering kiss, “Together then, let us go onward.”

As dawn approached, Altur and Cassa watched as all the Lighters gathered together. Proud of their courage, Cassa began their journey song as they stepped out of Willow Heart and towards their destiny. Willow Light lay west and about half a day's journey away allowing a few brief stops for rest. 

The Lighters carried on with their journey, forsaking their sorrow and following their leader. A sort of merriment filled their hearts – for they loved to travel. Altur and Cassa alone were aware of the sense of darkness in their surroundings. Where there had been light there was an eerie greyness. Cassa urged her people onward, hastening their progress away from the gloom and wanting to ensure that they would be on time.

It was high noon when they reached Willow Light. Unnatural rain, snow and an evil wind had slowed them down and Ferntress sighed in relief as she saw them approach the Grand Willow, where she was waiting for them. “Come dear ones. There is no time to lose. We must begin the ceremony.”

Cassa looked at Ferntress and beyond, “Where is everyone? We will wait for them so they may watch.”

Ferntress shook her head in sorrow, “They will not come. It is only us who are here. Many are scared, others have perished and more still cannot make it past the evil.”

“But...”

“Come Cassa, let us not lose heart now. We will triumph yet.” Altur grasped her hand and gave it a gentle but firm squeeze. 

“Cassa, Altur, we must begin. If you do this you must know that you sacrifice your home – will you still light the Grand Willow?”

Cassa took a deep breath and turned to her people, “Lighters, we have been called. Light up your souls, forget your sorrows. Bring forth the magic – bring forth the light. Let our light be the light of magic. Let our loss be the gain of others. Let our tears bring laughter. Go forth, Lighters!” 

Even as she spoke the words, Cassa felt the light dying in Willow Heart and tears drowned her face as she saw her vision come to life. This would be the end of her people, but at least the rest of Willow Land would be safe. She looked towards Ferntress felt her sorrow and saw her resolve. She sought Altur's eyes and knew instinctively that he felt the light dying as well. 

“The ceremony will go on,” she vowed quietly and together Altur and Cassa flew around the Grand Willow, in spirals. Sparkled dust ran down the bark as they moved. The leaves turned golden, the Willow's bark was alight in a bronze glitter. The Lighters moved into a formation of a tree with a flower inside and a heart within the flower. In a single motion they flew higher, maintaining the formation, over the tree, protecting it and conferring it with their light. Cassa and Altur flew into the centre of the heart. The few spectators below were solemn and in awe of the beautiful sight. The lights were dazzling, and the Grand Willow itself seemed to be alive – a golden light was spreading through its roots and diffusing a sense of joy. Eerie lights that had take residence in the area around them, were disappearing. It was life beginning anew. Ferntress laughed her golden laugh again and the river beyond gurgled in unison. 

Cassa watched as all of Willow Land was encompassed in their light. She could see the evil move away. She saw laughter and fearlessness return to the land. She felt the joy of life as she spun her light with Altur's. She needed to hold on for just a while longer. She looked at her people and through their song, sent them love and gratitude. She looked at Altur and silently told him she loved him more than life itself. She saw again, her vision. 

It was time. She couldn't save their home but she would save her people. Quickly she gathered her essence and sough the presence of the evil. She wove her light and trapped the soul of the enemy in Willow Heart, her home. It pained her to have that evil in her home land, but it was inevitable. Only there, with the magic of their lights, their ancestry and the shimmer could the evil be contained. With quickening pace, Cassa summoned all her light and sent it forth from Willow Land to Willow Heart and barred the evil in a light prison it could not escape. She felt the light escape her soul and sank towards the earth. The Lighters' song had ended, but the Lighters themselves were alight and alive! She had saved them. She felt Altur's hand hold her before she hit the earth – he was safe too. She looked at him smiling, as her eyes closed. 

Altur watched her smile. She had saved them. He didn’t know how, but knew it had cost her her life. The sorrow he felt was beyond him. He felt dead, alive. He heard her last message in her smile and heard his voice speak words that were his, but not his, “ Lighters arise! Lighters awaken! Lighters alight! The evil has been contained. The shimmers and a prison of light hold it in Willow Heart. Our home is lost to us, but our magic and light are with us still. Cassa, sends us this gift. Homeless we are but gifted we remain.” He could say no more. He knew he must lead his people but did not know how. Around him, Lighters were mourning as he held on tightly to Cassa. 

“There is hope yet, brave one.” It was Ferntress. “Cassa, will live again.”

Altur looked up, hope threatening to surface. He said nothing, just waited to hear more from their friend.

“Altur, we have much to do. For now, Willow Land is safe and my people and the Lighters will take care of all the tasks at hand. We must journey.” 

Altur couldn't move. He wouldn't leave his wife. 

“Look carefully Altur, there is yet a spark in her soul. Let her rest. We will bring her the Heart of Willow from yonder. Make haste, lest we cannot help her.”

Altur looked at Cassa and the smile on her tranquil face. He laid her gently at the base of the Grand Willow. He magicked a shrine of light around her to protect her. He would journey, forever if that was what it took, to light that one spark that remained in her. To light her life – and his.