I BELIEVE IN ANGELS

I looked at myself in contempt. Here I was loafing down the streets, without a rupee to my name, ok, correct that, wait, and let me check, yeah…three rupees and fifty paise in my pocket at an age where I should be at least a Vice President of a company.

But then I didn’t want to be a VP if a company. I wanted to be an artist. I did become one. A very successful one, in fact. Then where did it all go wrong?

One good thing is that I didn’t have to blame anybody. I did it all. I became the most celebrated artist at an age when my friends were in college. Connoisseurs of art fought amongst each other to bid for my paintings. I was in demand as “chief guest”.

I had the finest things life could offer, a luxurious apartment with everything a single man could ever want, a sporty BMW convertible, club memberships…everything.

I had access to the finest wine and the most beautiful women. It is a heady feeling. Over time, the quest for headier feelings did me in. I was bored too easily. I kept flitting from one brand of wine to another, tasting, relishing and then ignoring it altogether and moving on. Looking for aroma, flavour, body, bite yeah, I did have my kicks. Likewise with women. Let’s say that I’ve been around and across and everywhere, done all that and some more

Somewhere in the early thirties, I discovered gaming. I wouldn’t call it gambling. It will always remain a game for me. I play. Sometimes I win, sometimes I lose, what the heck. It’s just for kicks. Ok, most of the time I lost, and I hate losing. So I played more, lost more.

The years passed by so quickly. I didn’t notice. And before I knew it my car had to go, then the house and I had moved into a single room.

I stopped gambling. Not because I wanted to. But it was a vice I couldn’t simply afford. Women- who? They started ignoring me, the instant I started my journey down. They sense these things very well. And as for fine wine, I do stare nostalgically through shop windows.

I sat on the ledge beside the Flora Fountain and looked at the last of my rupees. I would have no use for them anyway. I flung it with vengeance, with disgust, with so much force that it bounced on the water once before it sank.

I had decided to end my life. Out of boredom. Funny. But true. My life is darn boring; I want to get rid of it. I contemplated on various means of killing myself, but dismissed most simply because they were so gruesome, so painful. No way. I wanted a peaceful, painless end. I looked at the ocean. I shuddered.

I felt someone was laughing at me. Like the tinkling of bells. So nice and melodious. I thought I heard a flutter of wings.

I looked behind me. There was a fountain.

I don’t know what made me look at the fairy. No, not a fairy, I’ve outgrown that stage. I gaze in admiration at the brilliant form. Every single detail, so perfect. So what if it’s in stone, the finest woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on and my eyes have seen a lot, believe me. She looked so real! So alluring. I knew I had to paint her. I knew I must.

Then again- I heard the same laugh. Or was I hallucinating?

I don’t know how long I stood there gazing in wonder at the statue.

I knew what I had to do.

There she was, laughing again at me.

I started believing in fairies again!

And when I started believing, I found my miracle!

I started believing in myself!

Just before I started walking away, I threw one long glance at the statue.

She winked. Or did I imagine that?

I let out a whoop! And I was beyond caring what anyone thought!

Story ID:	4053
Written by:	MVJ Simon (bio, link, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Fiction
Location:	Chennai India
Year:	2008