don’t you?” said the Maharani to the Princess, who continually tried to evade and at the same time answer the questions that came like swift arrows over the telephone line. This was their chance at a better life. Life sought to redeem and liberate them from the bitter life that they led all this while. There were a few scares throughout the journey, at times the money wouldn’t last and at times his sober self wouldn’t. They made it at last but only one was aware of it. Miguel had completed his first collection of short stories titled ‘Stories on How to Cope with a Loss’, and had finally gotten himself printed. One thousand three hundred copies sold so far, allowing him to have a decent sum when added with what she chipped in. After a couple of false alarms came summer’s babe, healthy and beautiful, always smiling but lacking wise men to offer gifts. The house was to say the least celebratory. Her health had deteriorated and he had lost interest in the silent child. “Even today?” she demanded staring at his glass in hand. The age of silence dawned. No answer was given for she had asked a question of pure rhetoric motivation. The second book, of two novellas, was near completion when in a hideously violent rage (thanks to all the litres of gold he had gulped) he chose to set fire to it. The tales that were to be told were lost forever. When an artist chooses to burn his own soul he literally commits suicide. For he has sinned against his own flesh and he becomes the vile being he so awfully did not want to become. The days that followed were those of unkempt hair and to curb the crisis the Maharani and her envoy were called in. After a brief cold greeting she stepped in, to man the captain-less boat, to avert it from disaster. “This is not how you do it. No..no..stop! I’ll show you.” The commanding voice of the Maharani instructing her incompetent daughter echoed throughout the rooms as he sipped and scribbled his way from day to day. To everybody’s surprise the infant, still nameless, and for that matter let’s call it Adalgisa, meaning promise, one fine morning just ceased to be. She went back into the world of smiles and she was devastated. Miguel plunged deeper into the abyss of sorrow and contempt. It was now too far to turn back.
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