In a far away town where every folk knew their neighbor, where seasons does not pass beyond that corner of the world's summer, where even the faintest joy causes celebration, a girl of the brightest of cries was born at twilight.
The small town rejoiced like it had for every single one of their births. There was dancing. There was singing. Every household prepared a piece of their prided culinary skills as a show of their welcome to the newborn child. There were gifts, there were cheers, there were many sights to see. The gentle warmth permeating from their smiles could humble even kings.
Midst of the celebration, the star of the night, the newborn child, have stopped her weeping and instead surveyed her surrounding with matchless curiosity. Darting her squinted eyes from the dancing fires, to the moon's caressing haze, to her mother's cooing lips, the girl was infinitely confused, joyful, and exhausted. No matter what she did, the things she wanted to do never ended. So much interesting things moved, sang, smelt, and felt that her little eyes started tearing up again in frustration and confusion. With last final yawn, the lids of her eyes finally grew too heavy and she could only fall asleep.
That night, she saw a world-full of colors, much more than the dark night and startling fire she have seen before. She does not know yet, but she was dreaming. A newborn having such vivid dreams was an abnormality no one would know, even her.
In this dream world, she was not a babe, she was not even human. Instead, she was one with the wind, soaring high in the skies overlooked by the almighty light that was the sun. The experience generated an extreme state of tranquility and absolute sense of freedom that comforted her beyond words. Maybe this was her fate, the newborn child was experiencing enlightenment before she even knew the world. The peacefulness she felt, the caress of the wind, and the freedom of it all, every second was imprinted to her sinless soul.
However, the little girl really was too young to identify with such heightened fevered insight towards spirituality. Not even a days old, but already attained an irrevocable enlightenment, she have then completely missed an experience that only come ones in a lifetime, a mundane childhood. Never would she be as blissfully ignorant.
Nonetheless, the little child flew and flew. She knew nothing of the greed to expect for more, as she was even losing the choice to seek otherwise. None higher nor lower, she slowly became the wind. And the wind is not human. It does not have sins as it did not have desires. It does not live as it is not alive. It was wise as it was hollow. The wind is such an existence.
Outside her dream, her little body was intensely being watched by dozens of people. Her mother, specifically, never spared a second away from watching her daughter's face. Her face streaked with tears and worry and no words could possibly describe the abyssal fear contained in her eyes.
The mother had let her child rest as long as the little thing wished, but the sky have brightened and faded and was slowly brightening again, yet the child showed no trace of waking. For hours, the mother tried all she could do to wake her child. Of her limited knowledge, the mother started shaking her, then repeatedly talking to the sleeping child, until she was finally screaming in despair as her husband went out to fetch the town's only healing practitioner. However, even this healer was left baffled by the little babe's unusually peaceful visage despite numerous attempts of waking her up. In crazed minds, they had even started pouring cold and hot water on her tiny feet, had tried hitting her, and even threw her high up again and again, to no avail.
When all things failed, they could only grudgingly wait, hearts heavy with looming news of doom. Until finally, the village elder have placed a talisman of protection on her head. It was the little town's ritual in sending an incurably diseased person for painless passing. It meant death was a matter of time, and all they could hope was a comfortable end.
As these went on, the little babe inside her dream became more one with the wind, her humanity slowly fading.
Suddenly, however, the clear skies in her dreams have darkened and the wind grew turbulent. She did not understand what was happening, but she acutely felt the tranquility on her soul slowly fading. However, she did not feel alarmed. Truly, she was too young. The tranquility may have created irreversible impression on her soul, but it did not, by all means, made her dependent nor desire it. She was a clear glass. If the world wanted to show her freedom, she would feel it, if this was taken away, then it was taken away, all that is left was a glass reflecting the world. Fear or regret was a notion too complex for her premature life to even feel, much less generate. The feeling of being one with the wind was likened to watching the fires dance in her first night, both were equally tantalizing.
Therefore, when the rain poured and lightning flashed, she woke up as if it was perfectly normal to find shelter during storm. Upon opening her eyes, the first thing she saw was her mother.
Seeing her mother widen her tear-filled eyes in disbelief then extreme joy, the little child already dismissed her dream just moments before. Instead, her stomach's growling and the pain in her arms and feet seemed more important. With that, the newborn babe cried again with the brightest cries just like how she did at her birth.
After this day, the parents of the little babe have changed her previously agreed name of Lila, which came from the legends of a sonorous bell like her cry, to Sona Lila, adding 'gold' as it was said in olden tongue in memory of her second cry at the first light of the sun. Combined, the little babe's name became Sonalila, meaning 'golden bell' while also at the same time, for all the witnesses in this small town, a cry of miracle at the breaking dawn.
