THE LAST ILLUSION

                                                                             

I knew April.

(Like I know the remaining eleven months).

Magic fascinated her more than anything else in the world.  In her childhood, she could pick up fights with those classmates who had little respect for magic. For others, magic might be nothing but a trick, but for her, it was the ultimate connection which she shared with the world far beyond one’s understanding. She wanted to be a magician, she bought books on magic, its apparatus and ethnology too.

(J.G.Frazer’s arguments on magic involves a hypothesis considering magic the earliest form of human thought. Based on his arguments, magic is supposedly the foundation of the whole mystical and scientific universe of primitive man-yeah, it has not been proved valid though. Anyway, I have to engage your imagination and for this nothing works better than magic, vampires, Dracula and other extraordinary medieval characters and occupations).

Her middle-class family which consisted of her dad, mom, sister and her younger brother were her first audience. At first, she performed simple card tricks, then bird from the hat and flower from the pocket of her coat and tougher ones. As she grew so also her skills to amuse her friends. Her talent did not go unnoticed. She was invited to various events to entertain guests, she did not turn it down; she loved performing.

(Family drama is in vogue, everyone can connect whether it be a dysfunctional family or some middle-class family aspiring for the best. I am not Wes Anderson, hence I am not comfortable depicting an upper-class family living a highly eccentric bourgeoisie life).

As the years went by, her sister good married, she had a niece but unfortunately, the cosmos were not in favour of her perfect world. She lost her niece. Her sister went under a depression, April with all her magical tricks stood helpless. Two years later younger brother died of drug overdose,

April with all her magical tricks stood helpless. Her best friend brought news of her breast cancer detection, April with all her magical tricks stood helpless. She could not crack the frowns into laughter of the man she loved.  He gave up on his life and the love they shared, so in one of the early winter mornings, he died by jumping off from a high building, April with all her magical tricks stood helpless.

(Nothing is sadder than death, loneliness, depression and urban isolation. I can’t refer to rural isolation as I haven’t mentioned about one of the characters sitting under a tree, listening to the sea waves banging the cliff while seagulls’ talents are abused).

She wanted to release herself and the people she loved from the misery. Misery could have been so nagging like an old woman who has been left alone in the wilderness to pluck her own berries, in the process she marks no territory; she extends her foot everywhere belittling the ground and the sky alike. April wanted to stop the misery. She had an idea, and the idea would bring happiness to everyone.

(In the suffocation of crowd there raises a Napoleon with an idea to end the problem of the masses, the irony is he is elected by the masses and for so many hearts, only one mind is put into action. Democracy affords! )

She invited everyone to a dinner party, she told them she had to something to share, hinting at her retirement plans. Seated at the table where her sister and her husband, her parents and her best friend waiting for the meal to be served.  After the meal, all of them fell one after the other on the ground except April. April was happy that she had sent them to a more peaceful place where sorrow had no name because it was nonexistent. When she thought everything was fine, she found something to do with herself. She too took a bite from an apple and went into an internal sleep. Magic! That’s was magic, her magic.

(Most of the readers love food, family feast, say love feast whatever and so the scene of the feast is here. Wars have been fought on the issues of territorial security and resource scarcity but when there is food on our plate nothing make sense to us, our minds confirm that we do not need a cross-examination of what is being served, hence, measures to tackle poverty was never discussed on a dining table).

Those who read the news of April’s family pretended to be made of logical cells. They watch in awe the reasons for the seasons. Indeed if the upliftment of the social dynamics and the slapping for a rigorous utopia is to be awakened by fulfilling the greatest energy from the grief and to have an elastic unanimous decision then there could have never been a theory and a counter theory.

(Did this story make you cry? If not then this must have made you feel intelligent. There is a saying that every story is a sad story if you read it twice, which includes humourous stories too. If you cannot make out the head and tail of this story, then the movie Upstream Color is there to my rescue).