The resonant beeps of the telephone kept hitting her eardrums while she sat down with her course notes. After a long day at school the only productive thing she could do with her time was revise the theoretical concepts of Japanese History. What Miyu Shimura couldn’t comprehend was the fact that her teachers were aware of the rather unusual snippets from deepest darkest pits of knowledge. Who knew the very first Japanese novel was written by their own noblewoman Murasaki Shikibu? The certainty hit her like a hundred pricks on a tenderly armoured body. She felt ignorant and meagre. Not different than how she usually thinks of herself anyway, she thought. Her mind seemed like a blank slate even after all these years. She needed to get her life on track before conspirators take over the universe one day. But in all honesty, she wouldn’t mind a little harmless intervention. She finds the thought rather intriguing. Life would be so much interesting if it had its bubble of unexplained tales and baseless assumptions about ‘rebels’ and ‘level headed cavaliers’. Miyu grinned to herself as she pictured a revolutionary fanatic/psychopath standing up for the rights of country’s homosexual porcupines. Now, that would be a very ‘prickly’ intervention now wouldn’t it?
(Ring ring) went the telephone without mercy. The last thing she wanted to do was reposition her posture on the settee and reach for the land-line. Why wouldn’t people (or ‘living species of planet earth’ as she would like to call them) leave her alone for a little while? She wanted to be alone with her course book. With her, no matter how nonsensical, thoughts. She didn’t need people. Not when she feels emotionally sane.
‘Human beings are coming back to haunt me. Selfish! Selfish!’ is what she kept chanting inside her head.
She suddenly thought of her mother and the time spent at the Honshu farm. Peanut cookies and milk at supper used to be her favourite part of the day. Senior Shimura doing the laundry and hanging clothes while Miyu watched her, sitting on the veranda, milk dripping away from the sides of her mouth full of cashews.
‘Oka-san! You should come inside. News forecaster man on the radio says it’s going to be a downpour very soon! I don’t want you to get wet. What if you catch a cold? You won’t be able to bake cookies then. And you know how much I love your magic hands!’ cried Miyu worriedly. She didn’t want her mother to get sick for selfish reasons but her mother didn’t seem to mind that.
‘My my, Michan! Such negative thoughts! A little water falling from the sky cannot possibly hurt me now can it? Why, water is a blessing! It comes as a gift from the heavens above. It deserves to be enjoyed to the fullest!’ Miyu silently stared at her mother’s carelessly smiling face, hiding a thousand truths. Equivalent to a chained Pandora’s box with decreasing tangibility. She wanted to know her mother better.
‘Miyu, are you trying to analyse my inner thought processes again?’ asked Mrs Shimura, eyeing her daughter with a suspicious glance. ‘I’ve told you a hundred times not to do that. Save your magical abilities for your friends at school, al right?’ That was enough to bring Miyu back up from her well of aloof assumptions. Mrs Shimura sighed and walked towards the veranda to sit beside her daughter. She put her hands around Miyu and pulled her closer. ‘I am happy a person, Miyu. You know I’m not hiding anything, right?’ ‘U-huh’ was the only reply little Miyu could come up with.
‘Love everything and everyone till the day you die, Michan. Life is too short to be sad over the uncontrollable and inconceivable. When you grow older, you’ll know how important your existence can be for others around you. You will learn to live for them and not just for yourself’. Eventhough, Miyu wasn’t able to grasp half the things her mother was trying to fit into her 12 year old mind, she knew the gist of it. Her mother was emphasizing on selfless love.
The lightning roared down with a thunderous crack which snapped Miyu out of her offhand reverie. To her dismay, the phone was still shrieking like a police horn. ‘Selfish! So damn selfish and inconsiderate all of you!’ are the only words she could utter before giving in to the calls of the unknown.