Breeze in the Old Building
"I even learned one day while blowing through the Ministry Office building that they have their territories marked in the air too. If someone crosses these by mistake and goes over to the other's then they start their fights. And these are not ordinary fights, like I do with Miss Air sometimes, these are gun battles. They kill each other and settle their scores. I refused to touch such flags on the wars fields that the winners hoist after the war is won, over the strewn dead bodies. I wanted to tear such pieces of colourful cloth to shreds."
"Yes, dear Ms Breeze, i know all about this. Last time, decades ago, my brother Storm Beaten had gone out once when he met Tornado and Gale. They were so very angry with these humans that they destroyed whatever came on their way. Storm Beaten was also blown off his feet but he somehow managed to cling onto a tree, without food and water, like those devastated humans before finally managing to come back home. He was so disturbed with Tornado's and Gale's behaviour that he never stepped out of the building after that." Saying this Mrs. Windy wiped teardrops from her eyes.
Breeze, then, with sorrowful eyes bid Mrs. Windy good day and moved on to meet all the others whom she had not met before. She tiptoed out of the building to the lush green lawn to meet the west wind, They call him Zephyr. He was, sitting at the culvert, over a small puddle. Seeing Breeze approaching he shivered a bit and then filled himself with the momentous dread about her.
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The sky was already turning a greyish colour. Zephyr held the wooden rail with his little first and with the other hand tried to play on his lyre. But no music came out but he frantically played on his harp. Breeze stood there frightened and moved away slowly without uttering a word.
A little farther away she found the gentle wind blowing over the tulips in the garden. Breeze immediately ran toward her and cried, "O my friend Gentle Wind! I was so petrified to see Zephyr sitting over there in a frustrated mood that I came away running to you."
"Yes, such obstinate moods come over him sometimes, then he fiddles with his harp and broods like tragic heroes from Greek mythology," replied Gentle Wind with a twinkle in her eyes.
"But why does he look so cheerless and depressed?"
"Last winter he visited a village which lay by the shore of a river in a misshapen land. There was an inn, and the sound of violins was often heard there. Young, stylish people sat in the garden and talked and danced and made merry, while on the other shore were cloudlike mountains."
"But then Zephyr became uptight and got up with a furry face, stepped onto the lawn behind the counter, broke the snow-covered brush wood, and buzzed into one of those ladies" ear saying. "I'm a Greek god, I confess to it now."
"The pretty woman unable to make out anything from this just mopped her brow with her kerchief and moved away with her partner. SInce that day Zephyr is sad at being unable to prove his godliness to her," said Gentle Wind, while brushing her long white skirt briskly.
Breeze thanked her profusely and hurried back home. She stood gazing at the dilapidated old building now. The walkway leading up to the house was cracked. Weeds and dandelions poked out from these cracks. Red roses grew wildly in thick batches by the gate. The house looked fit for Zephyr, she thought. But then why did he live outside in the garden, Breeze wondered.
The door resentfully creaked open as Breeze walked in. A mildewed clammy odour crept into her nose. The house was dead silent except for the irregular squeaks and sighs of the wind that passed through the open windows. She quietly entered the dark living room. She noticed windows were with soot and dirt, the tranquil moonlight struggled through the darkness in thin thread-rays. Ghoulish shadows roamed about the room. The sofas and beds revealed deep grooves in the places where once the dwellers used to sit and lay down. A great jagged hole dug through the wall stood gawking. Picture frames hung muted. A cobweb-covered grand bookcase was at the corner of the room appearing dishevelled.
Breeze made her way back into the hallway; a glimmer of light came from behind a door. The single window was broken; through it a flood of light flowed into the room. Dust swirled around her as she made her way inside. The only sound to be heard was the drip of the faucet in the sink, as if someone never bothered to repair it.
Breeze arrived at the foot of the staircase that leads up to the terrace. A cry echoed all over the house. It was time to leave, she told herself. She closed the door behind and carefully walked down the stairs. She had to breathe more deeply. She saw the light short steps of Mr. Air coming toward her growing shorter and shorter. His strong double chin bulged over the firm high collar of his coat; from under his shaggy-haired eyebrows his black eyes flitted fresh and stabbing glances at her; his one time ruffled white hair had been combed flat on either side of an immaculate and cautious precise parting. This scared Breeze out of her wits. She was already beginning to feel out of breath, just as in her struggle outside the factory when her lungs had not seemed very trustworthy.
As she careened along, trying to concentrate on running while hardly able to keep her eyes open; in her shaken state she could not even think of any other getaway than simply moving forward. She almost forgot that the walls were not obstacles to her. The walls in this room were adorned with finely carved pieces of mahogany wood furniture, showcases, now looked old and faded - suddenly something lightly flung from somewhere landed close to her. It was a hot breath thrown at her. With her last alert look she saw the door of the room being thrown open and Zephyr rushing out ahead of Gentle Wind. She at once understood that the old building would not house either them or her anymore. The inhabitants of the old building had learned politics and division from the specters of the humans that once lived there.
Breeze returned to her hut by the side of a river where ducks swam in the still, supple water following their own reflection, wet clouds poured over the grass of meadows, and exotic bushes grew at their whims where the village sank deeper and deeper under the shade of rain-clouds. Tree trunks threw shadows during the mid day on the road across the pavement. The shadows lay twisted and bent, as if chopped and broken. Breeze knew now that she had to be everywhere; she could not be at one place only and thinking that she fell asleep on the grassland by the river.
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