666 IN THE TEMPLE OF THE LIVING

Circa 06.06.66. There’s a warm mist coating the pellucid bathroom mirror. Jimjams and cold-creeps woven into a gossamer epiphany! The frissons on my otherwise normal tracks for life! I sneeze to a rare tingling sensation up my nasal canal. A scene unfolds. A swift segue to a rundown theme park spinning on decaying ferrous wheels. No! The Columbus no longer appears to be a fun-buzzing ‘swing to amusement’ ride. Like a heavy bodied drone (male bee) spinning fast without its stingers. A parchment roll flutters down the rocking seat. Superimposed in bleeding vermilion, the dark burnished gold trim washroom glass with espresso frames comes eerily alive to display 666. No ballpark figure the beast number. I wrap the Turkish bath towel on my wet hair and step out to figure out my morning the ‘logic brained’ way. It’s not that I am high on Crystal Meth. In fact I don’t do drugs at all.

It’s a red letter day. My life’s first patient for genetic screening and heart beat monitoring is here. All’s great with the sensors presenting their proudest report. Suddenly! A flash to me! The living form winks with beryl blue eyes. Sitting in Padmasana(lotus position) he conveys a message with thunderbolt urgency. ‘Tell her stay calm to turn on the charm. 666 on his way.’ I can evangelize the appeal in the obsidian eyes. ‘Tell her!’ The amber skin wants to crawl out of the womb. What follows is an overlay of feelings, my self- censure as a doctor. How can I tell her what I just heard? What was this interlocution? I am a doctor not a harp playing angel, arriving with a crunch on the dry leafed earth bed to convey a ‘message.’

She resignedly says, ‘Six years back that state agent raped me and made me abort on the Columbus Ride. The police file’s still open. Pregnant now with my love, my refuge. My husband has been a healing sanctuary to me. I hope the bae’s ok?’ ‘Bae’ I smile. ‘ Bae your baby’s more than okay woman.’

The life-form floating in her amniotic fluid dances with his hands in a pectoral fin like glide. He waves a red book at me and smiles! In telepathic thought transference I can divine his glee. ‘I am not travelling light. My bags and baggage include the book keeping of justice. I have come back to her willy nilly, to avenge the one that dared to cut short the beast’s life… in that theme park six years back. Let him straighten his deck chair while the Titanic goes down.’

The temple of the living devil! He was romanticizing the past while uniting with the human flesh. ‘The thorns of his desires, now growing in living chambers!’

‘You’ll seal the case. Your own agent’s on the way.’ I patted her swollen tummy. SOMETIMES THE DEVIL MUST COLLUDE WITH THE DECENT TO CLOSE BOOKS OF JUSTICE…THE DESIRED WAY! I helped her up gently and went about my day.