Butterflies and Hurricanes

I find myself standing in a long queue in a dimly-lit hall. There’s an aisle leading up to a door framed by thick, heavy curtains. Long, steely corridors. Red granite floors. Sunlight struggling to permeate through the dark tapestries. I see a young man in a maroon toga, scrambling down the aisle. His head seems freshly shaven. I realise then. I’m in a monastery.

I look ahead and see my mother, my sister and my brother. They’re all calm and standing their ground firmly with cheerful determination. Something feels terribly wrong to me. Am I just waking up from a long dream? There’s something scary about the tranquillity of the place. I spin around and see it. The big grey door. The Room of Indoctrination.

Oh god. I remember now. For the last fifteen days, we’ve all been through rigorous training. Two whole weeks of the biggest “purge” so far. Two whole weeks of intense meditation, lectures, sessions where we spoke our hearts out, cried and laughed and danced and prayed. All of this to prepare us for an important task – walking hand-in-hand to our own death. It is mass suicide in the garb of salvation and ‘mukti’, when in reality this is just an evil political stunt.

Or is it? I’m not too sure anymore. I know what is behind those curtains. I know it and I don’t want to admit it. Every single person in this room has accepted it as the next logical step. They look like they’re just waiting to get to the cash register in a grocery store. The nonchalance is jarring. My mother and sister have walked ahead and I don’t have much time. If anyone here gets to know what’s going on in my mind, I’ll have to start the purge all over again. I grab my brother’s wrist and ask him to come along with me.

We make our way to the end of the queue. Stealthily. Steadily. When we get to the end, I check to see where the monks are. They haven’t seen us yet. We quickly escape to an adjacent room. There’s no other door inside except a balcony. A curtain hangs low and I look around to see if we can use something to create a ropeway. Right then I see a monk staring at me through a glass window. Knowingly. Carefully. He doesn’t move. There’s no time. I hold my brother’s hand and we jump. I land on my knees and feel a jolt of pain course through me. I look at my brother. He’s grinning at me. We look up. We see a maroon blob approaching the railing. We run. Despite the pain, I feel free. We both look back at the monastery again. I think about my mother and my sister.

At least they looked happy.