… I remain, crouching in a corner, with my demons for company. They say beautiful things, these ogres, in their grating voices. They sing and they dance, never going too far for I am their anchor in this reality. In this universe, I am their safe harbour: I feed them, I nourish them. I caress their scaly skins, tidy their dirt-laden garb. I love them the way they haven’t been loved. They feel safe with me, and I, with them. Too scared of losing touch with them, I breathe in their stench, cherish their scalding touch, for they are me, and I, them. We watch the shadows dance till we become one with them. We see the ball of flame rise and ebb, day after day, even as our light hides behind the clouds of doom. As all hope is subdued, my ogre-ish fiends rise, rearing their ugly heads to my pale, pale neck. As my life’s blood drains, they rise, raising their talons to where the skies once flourished, their voices singing the songs of my fears. They grow stronger even as I shrivel, a frame of bones crouching in the black garb I so love. The shadows grow darker, the air murkier, holiness weaker, happiness dead – till nothing but they remain…
-Pallavi Singh
BA (H) Economics
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