THE MAUSOLEUM OF INNOCENCE

Artist: Scott Christian Sava https://www.ssavaart.com/portfolio

Ｐｒｏｌｏｇｕｅ:

Firstly, I apologize to all the readers for the chaos. I've been through a phase of self discovery, madness and spirituality. I've learnt to apologize to become a better man, and live a fuller life. I've started exploring other facets of self expression like music, and I'm doing fine so far. I've defined religion my way and that does work surprisingly well so far. This work is going to be chaotic, yet deeply religious. 

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Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ 1: 

Ｔｏ ａ Ｆａｉｒｙ, Ａｎｄ Ｔｈｅｎ Ｂａｃｋ

"How is it like, when your sins catch up?"

 I was little then, when I saw my first fairy. Now you'd find it silly when grown men talk about fairies, but I believe they exist. Or maybe, they're just us. Just ordinary people whom we do not know too well.

I was on a crowded railway platform. Or rather, on the footbridge. (The footbridge was unnecessarily high, it made me nervous) . My Dad was beside me, busy minding his shit. Suddenly, I felt a soft touch on my right fist, and then, my left. I look around, but I find no one. There is only the vast ocean of people spanning the platform. After some time, I stand in the queue for drinking water. I feel a touch, yes, that same touch, on my left elbow, and then my back. I turn around, and now, I have a face to remember for the rest of my life. 

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I'vee seen fairies since then, none so vivid, none so innocent, none so beautiful.

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Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ 2: Ｔｈｅ Ｍａｕｓｏｌｅｕｍ

I am seventeen now, and I am to meet a fairy in Kashmir Valley. I'm wearing a chequered trenchcoat. I'm looking handsome and I am flexing a bit. I look at the fairy and I recognize the face. I've seen her before. I remember exchanging our numbers but I don't remember anything else. I am standing on the second floor of a tower with a huge gaping window in front of me, with the fairy by my side and we are too nervous to talk. Atleast, she apparently is. Then, I see my best friend through the window. He is sitting at a desk wearing our school uniform. Remember you, this was a second-floor window, and that would mean he and the desk would both be floating in the air. Apparently, I didn't care about this absurdity. I turn around, and decide to flex. Like my best friend used to tease me in school when I used to talk to my high school sweetheart (butterflies in my stomach), he opens his mouth as if to say something. I decide to flex on him. In the midst of our increasingly boring small talk, I turn to her and try to kiss her on the lips. She turns away, a bit shocked. Dips her head. I miss her lips. I kiss her over her top lip. Then my lips touch her bottom lip, the sides of her mouth.......

and a spell breaks. 

I look up at her, she almost regretting pulling away. But within the regret in her eyes, I decipher something else - fear (?) and a sense of losing. I panick, as the realisation finally dawns upon me. I recoil, almost in shock, and start to run down the tall flight of stairs. I break into a full sprint. I reach the first floor. I look at a similar window - I see my bestfriend evaporate. I am scared now. I see three men walking up. They look like ruffians-  I mistook the one on the extreme right to be a woman for the long hair, but then the stature and beard gives it away. I can hear anxious footsteps behind me. I run down and find a very tall and large door. I panicked, thinking the door might be bolted. Fortunately it was not. I push the door. The door flies open. I rush out. It's foggy, sketchy, cold.The cold air hit harder than an icy punch to the face. But my heart is colder, so my tears freeze on my cheeks. I run. I run as fast as I can, as I run from a fairy, from my past, from the poet that I house, from the rebel that I fear, from the ocean that I love, from the tune that I hum. I run down the road, mountains glistening behind fields of violets, and in the distance I hear a school bell toll. I run. I hear footsteps, a scream, "Ari-i-i-..., stopppp". "No, no, nononononooo.. "I say, tears streaming down my cheeks and I keep running," You are a fairy! Don't do this to me. please! I beg you! please don't." She screams," I'm not a fairy! I'm not! "I'm not! I'm just a girl, flesh and blood" I scream back" No! you are a fairy; if I know you, you'll have a name, oh, Lord, no! No,Lord!. You'll then be a human, a name, a face, and then a......that shouldn't happen! No, no, Lord! that should not happen." I stop. I stop running. She catches up. We are on opposite sides of the bright morning Sun - washed road. We are near the school now. I look at hear face, and she's crying. She says, "The day we met, at the platform, that fateful debate competition, that day I touched your shoulders, the day you went for a kiss, that's me, me all over." I have a - body, and mind, flesh and blood. "No". I say, more resolute. She runs up..."Don't do this to me"!, and I shriek, "No". It isn't me anymone. It's the poet who's running  down the path. "No Lord, oh, no Lord!!!" It is the fifteen year -old lazy teenager, who got spooked by the touch of a pubscent girls' breasts, whose ears went red to talk to those ephemeral beauties he witnessed. A couple more jogs, it's now the eight-year old, googly -eyed kid, watching out into the world trying to absorb it all in. I run, edging to the horizon, a sinking feeling with each stride. The mountains edge closer. The perfume of the grasses fill my nostrils. I feel....... free.

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"If God hadn't sent the lamb, would the prophet Abraham really have slit his son's throat?" - The Museum of Innocence, ORHAN PAMUK.

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Ｅｐｉｌｏｇｕｅ:

I don't know what is about to come. I fear myself thinking of what I might become! Something so massive, so colossal, and gigantic, I'm scared. My life might be full of heroin and butterflies and whores and unicorns from now on, but an eight-year old will always sleep in peace- in the mausoleum of innocence. 

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আরও একটি বৃদ্ধা নগ্ন হলে, 

কবি ছিঁড়ে ফেলে স্বপ্নাদেশের খাতা 

আরও কয়েকটা বিশ্বযুদ্ধ পর, 

হয় তো পরীরাও পড়ে কবিদের বীরগাথা। 

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