A lot of our neighbours have been visiting us during lockdown, inspite of Government directives against it. Others we see from afar through our numerous windows.
There is a fairy tree across the road. It is not a secluded tree in the area, like it is in Ireland, since India is a tropical country and trees grow in abundance, but it definitely is a fairy tree. How do I know that?
All the year round, it is brown and barren, but come spring and it grows leaves overnight. The flowers come next, white and fluffy, covering every inch of space until there is no way to peek through. All of a sudden, the entire place smells like fairyland. That’s when the fairies arrive from across the city following the laylines, dressed in all white.
Everyday for a month, at 10.15 AM, nearly a hundred pair of pearly wings begin fluttering around the tiny tree. They gather around the flowery feast halls waiting for the doors of the court of the White Queen to open (for this century is for the White Queen to rule until the Red Queen takes over in 2097). At 10:45, they all dissappear inside the fairyland…all except the few stragglers.
After a day-long feasting, late in the night, hidden from prying human eyes, they emerge from the enchanted lands, drunk on the nectar, trying to find the laylines home through their blurry eyesight. Sometimes, they stagger into human dwellings across the road…mine, curious of the tinkling laughter of the tiny Princess that is my daughter.
Recently, one of the fairies who ventured too close was attacked by Hariya, our resident Dragon, and the Princess had to intervene. She shooed the Dragon away, apologising profusely for the misbehaviour of her guard. Cradling the Fairy close until she was fit to fly, she spoke softly to sooth her troubled heart. Once ready to leave, she escorted the Fairy to the open window and gave her blessings for a journey without perils.
We never saw that Fairy at close quarters again, but ever so often, I see a flutter of white wings at my window and I know, the Princess, now, has a new Godmother.
Author’s note: First year in the city, I was surprised when all of a sudden a small dry tree became green, then white with flowers. And the overwhelming numbers of butterflies that tried to cram in it every day from 10.15 till 10.45 AM for a month in spring. I tried filming the daily half-hour fiasco. But my camera lens is not strong enough to capture the tiny neighbours from across the road. So, you will have to take my word for it. :D
Short Stories | Fish-eye Perspective 