Her reputation preceded our encounter. A reputation not of
myth but quite equal to the mettle and metal she wields with a spark. I had no
idea that this was the encounter which although I was looking forward to but
never felt ready for it. But despite my reluctance the stage was set and my reluctance
gave way to my curiosity. I stepped into the area and there it was without
doubt that which I had feared. She looked tired not because of fatigue of
physical labour but out of waiting which she had endured for ages. Her prosthetics
lying before her along with a small helmet. She shuddered but for a moment
before gathering herself up, picking up her parts and fitting them with small
twists and turns till they click fit to her body. The katana, it seems is
moulded with her right arm and the helmet shut her eyes completely keeping the
nostrils open. She had been waiting not for me but someone else, someone who
shared her blood and hence the bloodline. With a single warning, which I might
add came from a voice so feminine, full of love and depth, she announced that
she would bring hell to me.
And hell, it was, without doubt. The first encounter was by far
the shortest one where she took a small jump by her standards and chopped me
like a salad not even giving me a moment of pain or realization of my doom and
impending death. The writing was literally on the wall – “You Died” in red. I do
not consider myself a person with good reaction skills but the sheer alacrity
of the whole episode ending in a blink made me question – Am I ready for this?
Perhaps not, but when is anyone ready for such encounters. What amount of
practice and repetition would make you confident enough to answer that question
in affirmative. This was something which
nobody would be ever ready about. I stepped in again and I would have lasted 30
seconds more than the first meet. The grinding had begun and it was up to me to
bear it or leave it as there was no compulsion to complete it. And what would I
gain after hours of suffering and frustration if I manage to vanquish the undefeated.
A mere sense of achievement and belief that is all you would get given how far
you had come up to this encounter. There were hundred reasons for me to not get
subjected to humiliation and defeat again and again. There lies the power of
determination which can overshadow the pain and sweat you shed and even
obfuscates the tiny reward you expect in the end.
As the number of encounters grew, I would learn her routines
and moves and one which terrified many and all – the dance. The dance is what
defines her and she would not be even half of herself without the dance. You
could dodge and die to the other moves thinking that had I done this or that at
the right time I would have evaded it but the dance leaves you first in awe
then disbelief. The first time she does the routine, you would definitely
freeze at your place completely taken by surprise and astonishment as the routine
ends with your certain death. The only image it leaves you behind with is her
rise upwards, her skirt curling at her feet and the katana raised high above
the head and the rest is just a fuzzy series of white flashes roughly
resembling the orbit of electrons around the nucleus. It is as if the time
stops for a moment or two before the dance unfolds itself and ends in her
standing with her right knee bent, neck bent forward, head down, arms extended
across her waist and the katana still and parallel to the ground. It is the
start and the end which remains etched in your memory, the rest is just an
experience. The effect of that move is that your whole encounter with her is
just waiting for the dance. Every step you take after sometime is filled with a
hope and trepidation of whether she would do the dance now or not. I have seen
others completely mastering their moves and make a mockery of that dance but I
am not as skilled as them. How I made through the dance is not important because
I did what others had told me to do. As it turned out that was just the
preparation of what would come next. As you sit there panting with relief, she
would ask you to wait and not walk away from her as she wasn’t finished. You
look back and ask her – Really!
What ensues is more frantic and more flashes and explosions.
Your spirit already crushed by thinking that it was over further sinks with
each and every new move and when she finally gets you, you have to start all
over again, witnessing the dance and all. The dance which days ago looked so
satisfying when you would dodge it just feels like a routine and you just ask
yourself while dodging when will this be over. Many times, the first phase
itself would kill you although at this point of time there is no reason for you
to not get past it. It is the mental fatigue and a sense of complacency which defeats
you. There were several encounters where I was merely 3 or 4 hits away from ending
it but every time she would surprise me with a move, not new at all, which I
thought she would never do or did not know could do from the situation she was
in. I finally vanquished her. I had thought that my victory would make me pump
my fists beat my chest and fill me with elation but I just felt tired and the
enormous number of times I was defeated by her compared to my single victory
did not warrant a real achievement.
In the end she disappeared like a mist her voice trailing
and weeping, repentant that she could not protect her brother and had finally found
her match. But ask me lady, I was not match to you. You leave behind a void. A
sense of purpose was there whenever I would encounter you and a feeling of almost
surrender would accompany my every end at your hands. Although I wanted with
all my heart and will to defeat you, I long for our encounter again. And defeat
me again O Malenia for you are unequal and though many would defeat you none
would have done so without tasting the same over and over again.
Posts
