The Scent of a Beast.

He was unusually beautiful for a strong man.smooth and sharp eye brows and slant eyes lipid with the depth of a green sea gaze at you while you talked to this big burly man of 6 feet 5 inches height. Along his face lie a scar like a perfect imperfection adding to his aura.i saw him first at the college library.clutching a small book he casually walked in like a king, unaware of the power he brings to the corridors of space he treads upon. He was like the perfect inspiration for the authors eye. Strong yet naïve beautiful yet dark gentle and bold all at the same time.

He walked past the tables and sat across my table. He flipped open his tiny book and twitched his burly shoulders occasionally while he gazed endlessly into the book.

I had heard a lot about him.people called him Lucifer though no one knew why.he had been studying botany for almost 6 years now while his classmates and juniors grafduated and di PHD,s he continued to study and gaze at plants and gaze more at the books in the library.

I rolled my eyes from behind the boring encyclopedia I managed to pick up. I inteneded to study him and analyse him while he lay there like a picture of canvas waiting to be recolored.his eyes glimeered while he was reading a book on ‘herbs and flowers’ an elementary book of pictures of various flowers and herbs.

“oh” I exclaimed loudly when his green eyes suddenly shot at me. Beautiful feline green eyes.i did not look away from like everyone did. I feel he must have his own story to tell. I feel every person has the right to say and share things he learned and the mistakes he made and the choices he was entrusted upon and the past he drags.
I knew he was a nice man. Like the faraway mountain in a country side familiar to both tourists and farmers yer untrodden and far he seemed like a distant dream to me.

“true. Very tru” he said while I jumped on my seat.

Now did I imagine it? Did he actually speak to me. I had heard he had never spoken in the course of seven years at his college.

“excuse me?” I squeaked.
He smiled. Actually.
“yes im reading about roses and daffodils. You like roses I presume” he burst out a sentence that long!
“not too much”I voluntarily answered keen to continue the conversation.
“well you have tattoo on your left arm. A rose and its thors.” He said like a king.
“yes”I squeaked. “so?”
“well” he smiled”so you do like roses” he said. Sometimes simple statements like that are so hard to digest. Lucid and clear and painstakingly accurate.!
“yes” I said”I love the mysticism roses bring about theeselves” I found myself say.he gazed at his book Again like nothing ever happened.
I waited for a complete minute while he was losta agin in his book

“are you always so quiet” I dared to quip.
“come with me” he dared back much to my fear.

I was startled. At the ease with which he talked. I was guilty of judging him even before I knew him. Wht he was just another childish artist I felt. He simply said “ come with me” and o found absolutely no reason why I shouldn’t.

Sometimes we as humans have so many pre conceived notions. Sometimes we wait entirely too long to actually enjoy the subtleties of life. Sometimes we wait till we die and push out vagaries and dreams to the end hoping to adjust and fit them before our tenure slips away. Weird are we aren’t we!!

Walk along your own path they say
While every conspiration shall misguide your way
Your only own spirit shall rise
Only if you tend your inner voice.

I found myself walking with him while we quietly crossed roads and trams. We walked a gentle striding walk while I followed him quietly to his house.

The skies were azure and bright while. the winds were pleasant and moist.we walked for a little more while till we reached huge barbed wires. He wasn’t exactly a stranger in any way. Though we talked not more than minute we were connected in ways. You know they say that sometimes your real true thoughts you can speak only to strangers you find!

He knocked at his door gently at the right bottom and a small part of the huge rustic door opened. We stooped down to crawl past it while I impulsively closed my eyes. I had decided to take the surprise the way it is. I had already unfairly judged him so I stood there closing my eyes waiting to see what was in front of me.it could be a graveyard it could be creepy eerie animals or even a plain barren land but I decided to breathe and let go of the notions I construct even before I see.

I challenged myself that I shall not judge Lucifer. He was like a deep well to me. Everytime I dropped in something I could hear the splash after a long long time. i stood there while Lucifer stood behind me aware of my thoughts. I breathed in again and decided to open my eyes.

“oh” I exclaimed looking at the sight. Lush green fields of roses and daffodils and marigolds and liles bloomed and smiled on the warm sun bathed land. All the flowers were lined beautifully like small babied well kept pampered and taken care. The sight was beautiful. The roses were beautifully fresh . every plany every leafs symmetrically similar and painstakingly pure and correct in some weird sort of way! The fields lay there beaming and breathing inviting me to dance and play with the babies Lucifer had made.i stood there unable to say a word .

Lucifer and his garden seemed to draw my dark. They seemed to cleanse my thoughts and rejenuvate my minds. They seemed to wash my inhibitions and tend my soul while I stood there gasping the air they seemed to scent and reel at you while you could only enjoy every whiff that fell on you.

“so”he said while he showed his world to me. And I shivered and trembled at the beauty and perfection he had. i moved forward unable to smile weep or cry while Lucifer stood there waiting to invite me into his world into his dream into his heaven.

I trembeled in my dark and the beauty of his innocence. Every step I took I felt I was maligning him. As if I was adulterating his purity. Suddenly tears fell from my eyes on a rose petal close to me.
“ don’t worry “ he said while he held my hand. ”my garden will cleanse you “ he said while we looked at the rose.

It shone and gleamed with my tear.

So dark the con of a man they say
So void the dark of a lady I say.

As if the rose heard what I said it suddenly wilted in front of me. I was shivering again unable to withstand the guilt of spoiling Lucifer and his gardens beauty. I plucked the flower immediately lest it spoiled and died in front of his eyes, while I heard him shout “no”

They say human touch can tread or kill
It must have him liberated him of his only sin
Cause when I plucked the rose to save
I dug lucifers own only grave.