SAN AND THE SNOW BIRD

In an icy hamlet with a wintry fairy tale, lived a snow-bird who sang sweeter than a Nightingale.

She warbled at daybreak to a girl who always had a song on her lips and wore rainbow tiaras for hair clips.

"Who were you, once so happy and bright?

Did the dark side of the moon steal your sunlight?"

"I'm San, Neptune's beloved child

Who naively glided through wonderland mild

With a flawed cast-iron heart shield, merrily wild."

"Snow-bird cooed,"What did transpire, dear? Are you in some icky quagmire?"

"My life's a cryptic screenplay

I'm a dilapidated puzzle, jigsaw pieces all in disarray.

'Twas supposed to be my wedding day.

He never did show up on time,

When the bells at 8.30 did chime."

To the snow-bird, it was easy to discern,

That a chirpy girl had become forlorn.

Someone had ruthlessly impaled San's chambray heart, with an arrow of iron.

"With stardust in my eyes, clutching at moonbeams, 'twas my dream world.

Every kingdom had a prince charming and a happy ending, I was told.

It soon dawned on me that only the roads leading to Oz were made of gold." San confided feebly, yet bold.

"Is that why you're now so dull and gray?

Got hoaxed along the way?"

"Someone like him I don't meet everyday

Foolishly in love, I headed towards my own doomsday

Blindly trusting! Alackaday!!

Now I'm bitter, cold, heart in tatters, a dead giveaway.

Discarded, marooned like a castaway,

I want to fly away to the moon and never return...any day!" San lay huddled and defeated.

***

One October full moon, on an autumn midnight,

The snow-bird went to bathe in the Northern light.

San in solitude, sat in her nook

With lyrical words overflowing in a book.

Dear Diary, snow-bird's far away and can't hear me straight away.

I'm scribbling away in you like a popinjay

Hopelessly lost in a maze, looking for an exit--- thisaway, thataway.

Had I lost my wits, putting my emotions on display?

I've been constantly knocking my head since, for fine dust to drop out, that belongs in...an ash-tray!

Realization dawned too late, to my utter dismay

I thought I would be cherished and loved with, "San, you're mine for keeps! Hurray!"

Instead, his mockery was on high. Why did he betray???

San sighed and closed her diary.

***

Snow-bird sensed her pleas and wails.

Sluiced with lightning speed through winds and gales.

In its beak, clutching an ingot from the Tundra,

In the nick of time reached the hamlet, to give her the gift from the Goddess Aurora's amphora.

Then, magic happened one summer.

San fell in love with books---hook, line, and sinker.

She sat down at her computer

Like an amateur scriptwriter

Bled her memoir, which became a prize winner.

Now San's an explorer

Trying out genres thriller, sinister, heartbreaker.

Asking everyone---Will this nosedive like a disaster...

Or skyrocket as a blockbuster?...

Snow-bird smiles benevolently at her like a trusted friend forever.

Comments

CHAPTER 1: THE JADE SHAMBHALA

This post is Chapter 1 of short story series titled The Jade Shambhala. Tasseography is as old as time. The stories in the tea leaves will leave you in a spin, while the healing tea that precedes it anchors you like gripping oak roots. Every day for the next seven days, Xiu-Ying will welcome a new traveler seeking refuge from their heavy burdens, reading their futures in the settled leaves and guiding them toward peace as the seasons shift on the ridge. Welcome to The Jade Shambhala Tea House! CHAPTER 1 EARLY SPRING Ko-San Tê Bai Mudan (White Peony and Red Dates) The morning mist in the rolling hills of the 1980s Taiwanese countryside did not rise; it dissolved, burning away into thin silver threads under the persistent warmth of the early spring sun. The Yun-Shan Ridge grew f...

FINALE: THE JADE SHAMBHALA

FINALE The Gift of the North Wind The morning sun over the Yun Shan Ridge always arrived with a slow, quiet patience, filtering through the thick pine needles until the mountain mist glowed like pale green silk. Inside the Jade Shambhala Tea House, the iron kettle was just beginning to hum over the hot charcoal embers. Lin Xiu-Ying sat at the long wooden counter, her hands wrapped around a warm clay cup, listening to the stillness of the forest. Three winters ago on a night when the mountain was locked in a fierce, unyielding blizzard, the wind and the sea had their own ideas. ***** She didn't choose to board that trading merchant boat down in the southern spice ports. She was just a tiny, silver-white kitten, shivering behind a stack of cinnamon crates...

CHAPTER 2: THE JADE SHAMBHALA

This is a part of a short story series titled The Jade Shambhala. 7 days, 7 stories, 7 different exotic tea blends from the Far East and unique tea leaves reading for each. Welcome to the tea house! CHAPTER 2 LUNAR NEW YEAR Kim-huan Tê ( Golden Lily Oolong) The early spring air hanging over Sian-Phô village was heavy, smelling faintly of spent sulfur from the Lunar New Year firecrackers and the cold, sharp scent of wet pine needles. Up on the Yun-Shan Ridge, the festive red lanterns hanging from the eaves of the low wooden cottages were damp and water-logged, their brilliant scarlet dye bleeding slowly into the persistent gray mountain mist. The holiday had just ended, and while the rest of the village was settling into the quiet hope of a new agricultural...

THE BIG BAD WOLF( DAY 17, LETTER T)

CHAPTER 16 THE BIG BAD WOLF The pigs snarled like proper rascals, fixing their cold steely eyes on the Wolf's cottage. How dare he refuse to part with his cottage! When the pigs demand, it's given to them---no questions asked! Porkinn limped, Baconne was soggy, Swinedell rubbed a sore bump on his head, but they were far from defeated. Swinedell snorted, a crooked grin spreading across his face. "Wolf thinks 'e's posh, don't 'e? " Baconne sniffed the air, his nostrils flaring. "We want the cottage!” He growled. Porkinn cracked his fingers, his sly glance darting about. The pigs crept towards the back door, their footsteps silent on the soft grass. They spotted the Wolf through the kitchen window, stirring a pot of steaming stew for dinner. They kicked the door in, the wood splintering jaggedly. The latch gave in....

CHAPTER 3: THE JADE SHAMBHALA

This episode is part of a short story series titled The Jade Shambhala. Tasseography is as old as time. The stories in the tea leaves will leave you in a spin, while the healing tea that precedes anchors you like gripping oak roots. 7 days, 7 stories, 7 different exotic blends of brew from the Far East and unique tea leaves reading for each. CHAPTER 3 SPRING EQUINOX Tang-hng Bí-jîn (Oriental Beauty leaves) The morning mist on the Yun Shan Ridge does not merely roll over the peaks; it breathes. Right in the middle of the Spring Equinox, the rigid spine of the winter chill finally breaks, replaced by a tart apple blossom aroma and streaks of sunbeams lancing through the budding Magnolia tree in the centre of the garden. The slopes of the mountain are alive with the pale pink of wild peach blos...

Sangeetha Kamath

Search This Blog