To Fall, Free

By Swati Singh

Have you ever given a child a toy he has been whining about and seen his eyes just light up? Give an angel tired of following rules a banishment from Heaven and you’ll see his entire body light up. With fire. It’s done to burn off the wings.

Painful stuff.

But the real fun begins with the fall. I remember it like it was yesterday. Hundreds of angels, old and fledglings, panting for breath, moaning in pain after having their wings burned, suddenly feeling the ground beneath their feet fall away.

I recall the sudden fear and panic that had taken over me. We had just been deprived of our wings. And then there was no ground to even stand on. Forget about ten minutes to wallow in pain and self-pity. I remember flailing about for a few seconds, thinking, hoping, praying – praying for something to hold on to, for my decimated wings to work. Praying - to God. It was at that precise moment, when I began to call his name, that I realised.

God wasn’t listening.

I remember stopping all my vain efforts to fly. I remember looking up. I remember seeing the archangels, their wings spread out, their eyes staring down at us with no emotions.

I had stared back. The air pushed against my back, my arms, my legs. My hair whipped around my face, obscuring my vision every now and then. The vision of the glorified Heavens.

I had stared at the light. Stared at the angels who had once called me a friend.

And then I had smiled and closed my eyes. The rush of cold air around me, its loud whistling against my ears. It’s all so vivid in my memory. It was all pretty cool. Minus the few cowards who kept on screaming and begging for mercy.

It was, I would say, all I had ever wanted. And more.

Absolute liberation.

By Swati Singh