Bouquet of leaves, crown of thorns and an albatross

HRH, the queen of Tsango surveyed the surroundings. And sighed…

Sigh sigh sigh…

The kingdom is in a shambles. The enthusiasm of recent victories swallowed whole by the acrimony of mundane squabbles. There is much unpleasant whispering in the portals of power. Much anxiety in the royal chambers. Much paranoia.

There is talk of a mutinous uprising. There is further talk of disaffection among members of a once loyal coterie. There is talk… of possible speculation… about gossip… concerning chit-chat… surrounding rumours… regarding hearsay…that something is amiss.

And there are those evil ghosts of the past. Resurgent devils that conjure up ugly memories transforming them into something tangible, something real. Putting the most vivid of reveries to shame. Swallowing up the months that have elapsed between then and now. As if not separated by months, but mere minutes.

*

And there remain so many obligations. So many demons to be vanquished. So many “to-do” lists to annihilate. Not to mention the forest fires to be doused. Loyal subjects to be rescued and delivered to greener pastures. All while battling conspiratorial coups, unprecedented levels of insecurity, a potentially debilitating case of the common cold and the most grievous malady of all- procrastination.

So much to do… so little inclination.

*

Oh, what is a queen to do? Given this advanced state of malaise, can the monarch rescue her state from the brink of implosion?

Rescue came at the hands of expected allies. Well- wishers came and delivered well-intended home remedies. A bespectacled owl offered the services of his chariot. A diminutive imp clad resplendently in bright red lent fervour to the chorus of diatribes. A sad clown lent a quiet, frustrated smile. An aspiring philosopher “just called to say…”. A dishevelled angel painted a frighteningly accurate picture of the illness, a diagnosis that was unpalatable, only because it was true. A troubled soul came to give misery some much- needed company. A tattooed invalid blew her nose, lent a warm blanket and warmer shoulder (a welcome relief to the cold ones received just hours before). A child came, offering hugs and attractively packaged treats.

And some unexpected allies as well. Three to be precise. One short, one tall and one stuck uncertainly between the two. Braving cold winds and colder vibes, they came. Bearing leaves: one green, one brown and one a little bit of both. In grubby armour, but white knights nonetheless. And all the queen could do was blush uncomfortably.

*

So how will this story pan out? Is there hope for Tsango? Can all the queen’s horses and all the queen’s men piece together her much beleaguered morale?
Well, spring has made its eagerly awaited and much belated appearance. The sun is out and is here to stay (as per the predictions of the Renowned All-knowing Weather Woman and her trusty bunny- toothed sidekick Sug). If all else fails, Raquelle, Patron Saint of all Silent Sufferers of Tsango is expected back in time for things to reach critical mass.

This and a world of enticing attractions await HRH the Queen of Tsango. Success, however is contingent on her ability to get out of bed in time to face the day and all its challenges. The future of the kingdom hinges on the occurrence of this one auspicious event.

*

All we can hope is that good intentions (or at the very least an absence of malicious bad intentions) will be rewarded. A lot of trust has been callously put out into the universe. Here’s hoping the universe “returns the favour”.

Watch this space.