Short Story #2: His Albatross

 

 

“6E 628 NOW BOARDING”

Finally, thought Bani as she sprang up from her seat. “Indigo passengers to Bangalore please proceed to boarding” came the announcement. Bani was frustrated with the wait, and for good reason. Her flight had been delayed by half an hour three times already. She had been at the gate for over three hours now. She was hungry and consequently grumpy and to top it, her phone was running low on battery. She thought she had her Kindle for company but she had discovered an hour ago that she had left it at home in her hurry to catch her flight. Her unnecessarily active social media life had suddenly left her phone dying. She was now looking at an hour and a half of boredom on the flight. She stomped up to the already lengthy queue. As soon as she boarded the flight, she threw her backpack into the luggage cabinet and plonked into her seat – 16B. The middle. Great! Nothing else could possibly go wrong!

There was already someone seated on 16A – an elderly gentleman, perhaps in his late fifties. His salt and pepper hair was well groomed. He was neatly shaved and wore horn-rimmed glasses. He smelled like a fresh breath of the ocean. His sharp jaw-line and attentive eyes added to his persona. In essence, he was well dressed. Too well dressed to belong to this era, thought Bani. Her distressed jeans (boyfriend fit) and checkered shirt were quite a contrast to his neatly pressed trousers and suit jacket. She dropped her gaze to the hard-cover lying on his lap. It was a thick, black, very interesting looking book, but it was turned upside down. She was trying to read the spine when she realized that he had caught her in the act. She looked up at him and gave a curt smile before turning away. “Read books, do we?” he asked. Bani almost gasped aloud. His low, husky voice sounded as sexy as it felt comforting. Did they stop making men like this in the 20-something category, she wondered. “Ahan…” she managed to nod, trying to hide her burning cheeks. She turned away trying to seem like she wasn’t interested. Besides, she thought, why would a man such as him want to entertain a brat like her. But he persisted. “What kind of books do you read?” he asked. “Ummm… anything interesting really. Atleast a 3.7 on Goodreads” she replied.

“Any particular genre?”

“Anything that isn’t horror or romance.”

“Interesting. Those are diverse. More or less two extremes of a scale, if there was one”

“I’d put them on the same end, left to me” she said sheepishly. He laughed heartily before continuing. “Do you like thrillers?” he asked. “Yes and no. I like well written thrillers. I don’t like it when I can guess the plot” she answered. “I’d say haughty, but that’d probably be prejudice. What do you intend to do for the rest of flight, young lady? Have anything in mind?” he asked. Bani didn’t want to seem jobless and ended up mumbling something indistinct. The gentleman, possibly having guessed her state nevertheless, said “How about we play a game?”. “Depends… What game?” asked Bani.  “I give you a situation, you guess the plot. You get to ask questions – mind you, only polar questions. If you can guess the plot by the time we land, I’ll gift you a book. What say?” he said.

“Wait… Polar questions?” she asked, quizzed.

“Polar questions” he nodded. “Questions that can only have a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’ as an answer.”

“Oh! Like twenty questions?”

“Pardon?”

“Never mind! And what if I cannot guess the plot?” she asked. He shrugged, in answer, mischief dancing in his eyes. “I guess you’ll never know!” he said brightly. “Okay, I’m in. As long as I have nothing to lose” she said. Then “other than a few nights of sleep” she muttered under her breath.

“Okkkayyy…” he said rubbing his hands together, as if he was sitting down to dig into a sumptuous meal. “Here it goes then – A man meets a friend of his after a long time. They go into a restaurant and order their meal of the day. It happens to be albatross. The man then goes back home, takes out his revolver and shoots himself. Why?”

“Okay…. That’s very less information!” exclaimed Bani. “Well, that’s the point of the exercise isn’t it? You have an hour and a half, get working young lady!” he said. “Alright…!” she said, settling down comfortably in the meagre space. She knew this was going to take some time. But then again, what else is more pressing anyway, she thought. Bani considered the scenario for a minute. His story was very succinct and yet he had mentioned one detail very specifically – albatross meat. So the death must have something to do with albatross meat, she decided.

“Was that the first time our man ate albatross meat?” she asked.

“Good start. No!” he said.

“Did he kill himself because of something the friend said to him?”

“No.”

“Did he kill himself out of guilt?”

“Yes.” He smiled at this.

“Did the guilt have anything to do with a dear one?”

“Yes.”

“His wife? Kids? The friend that he met?”

“Polar questions only, remember?”

“Okay… Did it have anything to do with his wife?”

“Not really, no.”

“His kids?”

He titled his head, brows furrowed.

“Okay, a specific kid. His daughter?”

“No.”

“His son then. Is his son alive?”

“You’re fast! No.”

“Was his son killed by an albatross?”

“No.”

“Did his son have an albatross as a pet?”

“No.”

“Did his son’s death have anything to do with an albatross?”

“No.”

“Damn!” Bani exclaimed. For a moment there she had thought that this was going to be simple. She realized she would have to think different if she wanted to solve this. She took a step back and thought for a moment and then cautiously – “Did his son have anything to do with an albatross?”

“Now you ask the right question! No.” he replied.

Now that’s intriguing, thought Bani. She had to stop here and assess what she knew so far. The man had killed himself because of a guilt that had something to do with his son and it appeared that the guilt was triggered by the albatross meat. But she had to confirm that premise. So, she decided to resolve the mystery of the albatross meat first. “Was it the second time our man ate the albatross meat?” she asked, not fully sure if that would help in any way.

“Very smart! Yes!” the gentleman replied.

“Ha! The first time he ate it, was it with his son?” she snapped.

“Uhmm…. No.”

“With his friend then?”

“Yes.”

“Oh finally! Some connection. Was his son alive when he first ate the albatross meat?”

“No.”

“Fuck! I’m lost again!” Okay, let’s get back to the son then, she thought. Question the premise Bani, she said to herself. “Does the man have anything to do with his son’s death?”

“No.”

“Is his guilt because of his son’s death?”

“No… No.”

He hesitated there… Maybe his guilt has something to do with his son’s death. I should continue with this angle, thought Bani. “Had his son ever eaten albatross meat?”

“Frankly, not relevant.” he said and quickly turned away to look out of the window. Perhaps he thought he had said too much. The flight had taken off and they could see cottony clouds shaped like ice cream swirls floating next to them. Bani got back to the problem at hand. So, she thought, his son had nothing to do with an albatross, and yet the albatross meat had reminded him of his son and brought on a guilt so strong that he had to kill himself? She started wondering if this gentleman was playing with her, whether this really had a discernible explanation. No, she decided. He didn’t look that stupid. She felt lost, unable to think of relevant questions to ask. Albatross… Albatross… What did she know about albatrosses? Other than that they are large migratory birds, she knew nothing else about them. The only other thing that came to her mind was a song she had recently Shazam-ed at gym – “But fuck that little mouse, ‘Coz I’m an albatraoz” it went. What a desperate attempt to make it rhyme, she had thought at the time. She shook her head and decided she would try her luck with random questions. Maybe, just maybe one of it might hit bull’s eye.

“Was the man’s wife alive?” she asked.

“No.”

“Did she die at child birth?”

“No.”

“Did she die with her son?”

“About the same time, yes.”

“Damn. Interesting! But how does all this fit together?” Bani wondered aloud. She tried connecting the dots but found herself desperately flailing. She thought about it intensely for a minute or two. At first she hit only dead ends and then started drawing a magnanimous blank. “No… I’m clueless. Are you sure this really has an explanation?” she asked.

“It does! And when you realize it, I promise you, you’ll hit yourself on the head” he said with a wicked smile.

“Okay… Can I get a clue? A teensy one?”

“Oh come on… You’ve done well so far. Keep thinking!”

Bani looked at him dejectedly, almost ashamed of herself. The look on her face was so genuinely dispirited that he quickly said, “Okay then, let me give you some direction…. Try to guess our man’s profession”.

“Hmm…” said Bani, “let’s see… Was he a professional?”

“Yes.”

“A Doctor?”

“No.”

“A lawyer? Engineer? Teacher? Writer?”

“Nope, nope and nope”

“Anything to do with people?”

“Not directly.”

“Anything to do with the written word?”

“Naah.”

“Mechanic? Driver?”

“One of them… Kinda.”

“Driver?”

“Yes. Like I said, kinda.”

“Pilot?”

“No.”

“Sailor?”

“Bingo!”

“Whoo!! Now what’s that gotta do with his son’s death? Was he in a ship wreck with his son?”

“Whoa! Now I regret giving you that clue. Yes!”

Bani broke into a smile, a wide smile. But it was only a small victory. She still couldn’t place all the pieces together. A sailor, his son, a shipwreck, an albatross…. The albatross, the sailor… That brought back a distant memory. The Rime of the Ancient Mariner…

‘God save thee, ancient Mariner!

From the fiends, that plague thee thus!—

Why look’st thou so?’—With my cross-bow

I shot the ALBATROSS.

 

It was a poem that she had learnt back in school. She was always a little geeky, Bani. She obsessed over poems and literature. She knew most poems in her text books by heart and she could recite entire Shakespearean plays – Julius Caesar because that was her text book, and The Merchant of Venice because she had taken the pleasure to read it out of sheer curiosity. It still bothered her how she was bullied for being the bespectacled little girl who could repeat from memory entire plays. She wasn’t bespectacled anymore, but she was still the same excited girl gaga for poems. She found their affluent brevity captivating.

She snapped back to the present. An albatross and a sailor… That was eerily like the poem. The Rime of the Ancient Mariner was a poem about a sailor who has returned from a long sea voyage during which he shoots an albatross. “Did our man shoot an albatross?” she asked.

“No.” he said flatly.

“The first time he ate albatross meat… Was it when he was in the ship wreck?” she then asked thoughtfully.

“Yeees….!” he said with a twinkle in his eye. Perhaps he thought Bani was close to the answer. But Bani was still very hopelessly clueless. That hadn’t helped much, knowing that the first time the man had eaten albatross meat was when he was shipwrecked.

“This is the captain speaking” crackled the speakers overhead, “we will begin descent into Bengaluru now. We at Indigo are happy to announce another on-time arrival. Thank you for choosing Indigo.”

“Already??” screamed Bani. No, no, no…. She was nowhere close to the answer yet! They could NOT be descending into Bangalore already! She now desperately wracked her brains for an answer. What could it be?! She tried to make connections in a frenzy and tried to think of the whole situation from any other angle. She clutched her hair, coaxing the gears of her brain to work faster. But all she accomplished was more bewilderment.

“Calm down” came the voice from beside her, “try to make progress on the story”.

“Okay” she took a deep breath and started. “Let’s write the story then. There was once a sailor. He went on a voyage with his son. And his friend that he met before he killed himself?”

“Yes. See? Progress.” He smiled, nodding.

Bani smiled too before continuing. “But unfortunately, the sea turned too rough and his ship wrecked.” Now both of them were nodding after each sentence – Bani looking for affirmation, and the gentleman giving her the affirmation where necessary, and goading her to continue.

“He lost his son in the ship wreck.”

He nodded.

What typically happens when a ship wrecks? she thought. Then, “Then they got stranded on a deserted island?” she asked, almost sticking her tongue out playfully.

“Very good… Yes.” he said.

“Wow, how typical! Okay… Was his son alive when they went on the island?”

“No.”

“Okay. So his son died at sea. Was there any one else with him on the island? Any other survivors?”

“Yes.”

“Oh! How stupid of me! His friend of course?”

“Yup.”

“Okay. So, him and his friend were stranded on the island. And he ate the albatross meat for the very first time there?”

“Yesss!”

“And then both of them were rescued?”

“Yes, obviously!”

“Ha! Then years later, he met his friend again, ate albatross meat with him, went home and killed himself?”

He laughed a hearty laugh, and then said “Yes.”

“How does that solve the mystery?” Bani asked, with a look of complete bafflement.

“Think, young lady. And check your premises.”

The passengers had begun debaording the plane already. Bani got up from her seat when she could no longer keep sitting. She picked her bag out of the cabinet overhead and stood in the aisle, ready to disembark. The gentleman stood behind her with his bag neatly sitting beside him. His book was still in his hand. She realized that she hadn’t even asked him his name. She would, she thought as soon as she found her answer. She was still confident that she would answer it before she would have to part ways with him.

She went through the story again in her head. One detail at a time. And then she found what she thought she had missed. “Was his son really dead? Did he see him die?” she asked.

“Yes. No.”

“Then how was he so sure that his son was dead? Did he see his dead body?”

“Yup. He did.”

“He saw the body floating in the sea?”

He shook his head.

“Then did the body get washed up to the island?”

“Yup.”

So what? thought Bani. How does that help the story? Check your premises, he had said. What other detail had she missed? “Was the island isolated? Were they the only two people on the island?” she asked finally, as she moved along the aisle slowly towards the exit gates.

“Yes. That’s an important detail” he said from behind her.

“Have I got all the details I need to solve it?” she asked desperately.

“Actually, yes. You have.” He said.

Am I this stupid, wondered Bani. She thought she was good at logic. She was slowly discovering that she was a goner at lateral thinking. I gotta work on this if I aspire to get an MBA seat, she noted.

“Let me say this… You are one of the few people who have got all the details. I’m surprised you don’t have the answer yet!” he said. That made her insides burn with embarrassment. Didn’t that mean even her logic was failing her? “You know what… This is good enough. You can have this book for all that work on the flight” he said, handing her the black hard cover. It was still turned upside down. The accolades the author had received for the book were staring back at her. “I don’t deserve it. I haven’t solved it!” she said sadly, trying to push it back towards him. “I like that you put enough effort!” he beamed pushing it back to her. The crowd was moving now. She took the book from him and started walking. ‘THE STOLEN CITY’ the title read, by Patrick Das. Bani had recently heard about Patrick Das. He was a historian turned writer. She had read his first book recently only because she was curious about how a historian would write fiction, and a thriller at that. She had loved his style and had decided to read his second book, this one, which was soon to come out. “Hey I didn’t know this was out!” she exclaimed.

“Well, I have my sources.” he smiled. “It’s a thriller. I hope the plot is not obvious!”

“No, I won’t accept it until I find the answer” she said and handed it back to him.

“Well, you’ll have neither the book nor the answer in a few minutes. Your call!” he shrugged. She snatched the book from him and whispered a thank you guiltily before walking on. They had disembarked the plane and were moving towards baggage claim now. She played the story in her mind again, slowly. Sailor… ship wreck… deserted island… the son’s body… albatross meat… wait… deserted island!!! “Shitt!!!” she exclaimed. Her eyes opened wide in horror. As gross as it seemed, she had to say it aloud.

“He was made to eat his son in the name of albatross meat?!” she spit out, spinning around.

But the gentleman was nowhere to be seen. He was lost in the crowd.

“DAMNN!!” she whispered. “Now how do I verify it?”. The crowd at the baggage belt was piling. She had to find an opening. “But this makes complete sense!”. She opened the book absently. There on the jacket was the gentleman with his salt and pepper hair, whose name she had forgotten to ask.

 

 

Like Water for Chocolate -My Review

 

Ingredients

1 Story
12 mouth-watering recipes
1 pint unbridled passion
1 pint magic realism
½ ounce love
Tears to taste

 

Take all the ingredients in a bowl, toss them together, sit back and watch as the fragrances emanate and tickle your palate, the passion tickles you elsewhere and the writing takes you on a flavorful journey and leaves you wanting for more.

 

I picked up Like Water for Chocolate as soon as I read that it’s a story told through recipes. And boy did it deliver a lot more than that! The book is short and an easy read, and it is an absolute delight to both your imagination and palate alike! Full of magic realism, the story sends you into a frenzy of colors and flavors and fragrances. It is written as 12 recipes, one dish a month. And the recipes magically blend in with the story, so much so that at the end of each one, you can almost smell the aromas wafting in from your imagination. It appeals to more than one sense, this book!

It is as much about Tita de La Garza’s exclusive culinary skills as it is about her forbidden love. What emerges is a mélange of food and emotions in such a way that the fiery hot chilies kindle a lustful urge for a man’s touch, the tears that happen to get mixed with the broth bring on a bout of melancholy and the singing cooks the beans to perfection. Laura Esquivel has done a fantastic job in writing a simple story of ordinary Mexican women at the turn of the century. The essence of the book is not in the story itself, but in the way it is narrated. She mixes elements like one would mix ingredients for an exotic dish. You find yourself empathizing with Tita’s fate at not being able to live the life that she wants, but is forced to live one that’s been handed down to her. You also find yourself subconsciously admitting to yourself that love does feel like how Esquivel describes it, no matter how surreal it may seem to the outside world. Love and sex here are not the cheesy, sleazy kind. Love is developed and sex is justified, almost as if in answer to a higher calling!

Admittedly, I found myself disagreeing with a few decisions that Tita makes, but I did also find myself sheepishly nodding in confession quite a few times along the way. The book has a way of getting to you. Not in a very it’ll-leave-you-a-changed-person sort of way. It just leaves you with a tingle in your stomach. I’d recommend it as a must-read, more for the novelty of storytelling than anything else. Most of the world thinks it’s a very forgettable book, but I found it to be quite the contrary. Maybe because, for a change, it gave flight to my imagination!

 

 

 

P.S. The movie does no justice to the book. Don’t bother to watch it!

Fear Utmost

Dec, 2012

 

My armor in battle,

You’re my hope in grief.

You’re my haven, you’re love, you’re… home!

 

Say you’ll never leave me,

Say you will not hide

Say you’ll always be my pillow for a dreamless night.

 

Up in the air, deserted;

In the world, an ocean,

I’ll be but a grain of sand without you, Mamma!

 

 

 

P.S. I heard somewhere that to be a poet is to be brave enough to lay bare your innermost feelings, not just to shed the fear of being judged, but also to connect to the reader. So, here I am… being a poet!

To Steal a Moment

 

The water was undisturbed, except for the small ripples dancing here and there as a slight monsoon breeze teased the backwaters. The glassy surface of the lake reflected the bluish-grey of the sky. It had been slightly cloudy all day and the sun, now making its daily descent, was shooting its gold through the gaps in the cottony clouds. The gold was flitting on the thin ripples, and the distant green of the trees on the other side of the vast expanse of water joined the confluence of colors in the scene. Add to that, the toasty orange of the tiles that lined the wall behind which I sat watching this picture. The blue-green bouy that was bobbing up and down on the water a short distance away, and the dark blue tarpaulin sheet loosely fluttering on the other side of the lake seemed like blotches on a painting. The lone duck lazily swimming in the water would casually dip into the lake, probably to scoop up its nibbles. This was the extent of movement in the scene – the indolently swaying stray leaves of the creeper nearest to me, the slow slap of the gentle ripples and the single line of traffic snaking along the faraway road, somewhere at the edge of my vision. Then there came the sudden swoosh and a streak of bright blue and yellow, down into the water for a split second, and up again, in a curve and within the blink of an eye, almost as if I had only imagined it. Hmmm, I thought, I knew kingfishers preyed on small fish. But I had never seen it happening. What a rewarding day!

 

29/07/2017

Somewhere…

 

 

Somewhere

a feeble soul voicelessly cries

a cry of agony,

crawls into its shell

unable to hold off the monstrous hand

that’s pulling it’s insides

to a pulp.

Yielding to the demon

it’s head bowed,

giving up it’s prolonged fight,

tormented, worn and beat

in the depths of it’s own hell

Somewhere,

one more light

surrenders to the dark!

R.I.P Chester Bennington!

Five Things I Learnt While Solo-Tripping

 

There are hundreds of listicles on the internet today that propound the top 30 things you should do before you turn 30. I have read a few of them myself (considering I am nearing the big number), and the one thing that kept popping up in all of them and kept itching my feet, read “TRAVEL SOLO”. So that was on my bucket list for quite a few years. And recently, I ticked it off. It was a short trip of three days to the twin towns of Ooty and Conoor. I deliberately kept it short, lest I start hating my own company! But my mom knew better. I expected her to be wrought with worry about letting her unruly, marriageable daughter go alone in the filthy, evil world. But, “I am not very worried of letting you go alone” she said, “I’m worried that you’ll like it!”

How well she knows me! This short trip however, taught me a lot more than just that I love travelling by myself. Here are just five of those:

 

1.     The world is not as rotten as we think it is.

It is in fact, full of decent human beings, as raw and real as we ourselves are. This gentleman I met on the bus to Ooty, for example, was very friendly and genuinely concerned for me. “Don’t take an auto in this town, you’ll get fleeced!” he said. And then he volunteered to tell me how I could reach my destination in as less as 5 rupees (as opposed to Rs 200), and ensured that I would reach there safely.

The way to my hostel. It was nestled in a remote corner of the town, far away from the eyes of the common tourist.

“I have a daughter your age, you remind me of her” he said when I stepped off from the bus. While that might explain his concern, it certainly does not mean that he helped me ONLY because I reminded him of his daughter.  He could have let me fend for myself, he had no obligation to help me, resemblance or no resemblance. But he chose to help me, even though he had nothing to gain in return. Except my gratitude and respect, perhaps. This was not the first time that a stranger on a bus/train had helped me, but being the first gesture I saw on my solo adventure, it made an impression.

And that was not the only time I received help from random strangers on that trip. There was a couple I shared an umbrella with, an elderly man who I shared an auto ride with, a random woman who helped me get some change to buy a ticket. It is such casual encounters with the people of the world at large that gives you the sense that the world we live in is in fact much better than we give it credit for.

 

2.    I am AWESOME

When you are alone, you get a chance to judge yourself, uninfluenced by the opinions of others. You tend to learn a lot of new things about the real ‘you’. I discovered that I interacted with strangers differently than I would back home. I was more open to meeting new people, a lot more courteous and eager to help. I was perfectly comfortable among strangers in my hostel, did not feel the need to shy away at all, or be the introvert that I otherwise am! I didn’t hesitate to ask for help and was always ready face challenges. It gave me a chance to discover just how strong I am.

Once in a while, spend some time with yourself. You’ll know how awesome you are!

I learnt how much I enjoy my own company. Now I feel it’s important to spend some time with yourself, once in a while. It gives us a chance to discover what truly makes us happy. Of course, it doesn’t have to be travelling alone. You could just curl up for a few hours with a hot cup of coffee on a swing in a balcony with a view. But travelling alone is always recommended!

3.    Connecting with people is easy-peasy!

“The world is a book, and those who don’t travel read only one page.” said St. Augustine. If you don’t travel, you have a very limited view of the world and with it, only a limited access to the whole wide, colorful variety of the kind of people that inhabit this world. While travelling with someone is fun, it often does not give us a chance to interact with other people. Travelling alone gives us that opportunity and in abundance!

So many people. So many interesting friendships.

I met so MANY interesting people in the three days – there was the award winning short-film director who was there to do research for his debut feature film, another guy who had hundreds of stories to share about his solo travels (he gave a few recommendations that went straight to my bucket list, by the way!), a girl who had been living in my hostel and working remotely from there just because she loved the mountains that much, a Brit who has no base and travels around the world while he manages his website building business, another girl who was there alone to rethink the life she had hurriedly gotten into. I didn’t know talking to strangers could be so fulfilling!

4.    It’s not about the trip, it’s about you!

I have said before that travelling is not just about going from one place to another. It is mostly about discovering yourself and coming back as a wholly different person. Every minute of such an experience gives you a different view of life, a different take on reality. Your problems suddenly seem smaller and so much easier to deal with. You have a renewed vigor to get back to the mundane drill of life. Also, I don’t know what it is about travelling that is so de-stressing. You are more active than usual, so technically, you should be all the more physically stressed. But, no! You return saner. You feel refreshed. It is like someone pressed Reset!

Bird’s eye view of Conoor!

And travelling alone is all the more so because it is all about you. You choose where you want to go, how you want go there, what you want to do, when you want to wake up, what you want to eat, when you want to eat it, etc. It is all you!

So, travelling alone not only gives insight. It also gives you pause. It gives you a chance to evaluate. It gives you a chance to unwind. It renews your energy. It is not really about where you go or who you meet or for how many days. Essentially, it is about YOU!

5.    Mountains are home.

The most important thing I learnt about myself was that I LOVE the mountains. Mountains feel like home. Being up there looking down on miles and miles of the green earth, gives me a joy like nothing else can. The blue of the sky, the green of the valley, the cold of the rain, the song of the wind and the dance of the sunlight – they all come together as if to wash away every ounce of worry from my body. I sleep better in the mountains. If I had my way, I would probably curl up there and never return. But, alas! Life beckons.

The mountains make me sing – “Kasto mazza hai railaima… Ramailo o kaali odhali”

Diary of A Crusher

 

November 11^th, 2014

I saw him today. It was a typical gloomy, November morning, and I just peeped out of my window to see where the noise was coming from. It was our new neighbor, mowing their lawn. But what caught my attention was the figure inside the window on the first floor, right opposite mine. It was him. It was love at first sight! I couldn’t quite see him clearly, but his flawless skin was unmistakable. He shone bright like a silver ray of sun that brightens a gloomy day like today. His red undershirt only made him look all the more appealing! I couldn’t quite take my eyes off him this morning. I think I am obsessed. I want him!

 

November 14^th, 2014

I have been running to my window, first thing in the morning, ever since I saw him. His sight makes or breaks my day. There is something about him – maybe his perfectly crafted jawline or his pink, luscious lips. Or maybe the gentle curve of his smooth, sculpted muscles. He looks radiant, like a Greek God. I go weak in my knees every time I see him. The days I see him seem to go surprisingly well. But the days that window is closed, those are the days I hate! They go ablaze in a burning rage. Like yesterday. I couldn’t see him in the morning. And I spent the entire day throwing tantrums and staying cross with everyone.

 

November 21^st, 2014

I saw him at the movies today. He moves with such grace! I could hardly concentrate on what was happening in the movie. I only had eyes for him. I kept looking at him all through the movie, and at the end of it, I still hadn’t had enough of him. I HATED it when the other girls were swooning over him! Talking about him in hushed, excited tones. I don’t like it when they talk about him like that.

I am unable to sleep. I want him!

 

November 22^nd, 2014

I could hardly sleep last night. I want him! I WANT HIM!!!

 

November 26^th, 2014

I saw him at the mall. I knew I could go to him. If only my folks weren’t around! I hated them in that moment because they were the reason I couldn’t go to him. He was like the forbidden fruit, he was irresistible!

 

December 9^th, 2014

I have been thinking very hard about how I can make him mine; plotting elaborate schemes in my head, working out the probable consequences of each of them and trying to work out the best times to bring each one off. The more I think about it, the more I get desperate. And the more I get desperate, the more dangerous and twisted my plots become. I sketch each one out in great detail and just when I am about ready to execute them, I start seeing the flaws in them and they go in a downward spiral.

I can’t wait to have him! I want him!!

 

December 14^th, 2014

I have been in agony from the moment I saw him. I need to put an end to this. I have finally thought of a plan that is more or less flawless. I have been working on it from weeks now. Today, I feel I am ready to execute it. Everything is in place and my family has no idea what I am up to. I have made an excuse to get out tomorrow and they suspect nothing untoward. After all, I am quite an obedient girl on the outside.

You’ll be mine soon, my love! I am coming!

 

December 15^th, 2014

I know he will be at the mall today. All that remains to be done now is quietly go get him!

I wish myself luck!

 

December 16^th, 2014

I finally have him. All to myself! I had been saving up for this!

Proof:

Short Story #1: Ian’s Purpose

“Are you done packing?” asked Ian. “Yeah, a couple more batteries and we should be good. I’m so fucking excited and terrified about this!” exclaimed Mike. Ian and Mike were preparing for their trip to explore the “haunted” forest of Hoia Baciu in Romania, as part of their web series. They were ghost busters. They had started small, posting short videos of their busts. And their channel had recently seen a spurt of growth and they had suddenly become quite popular. They were unexpectedly in demand and it had earned them quite a fortune. In an effort to keep up with their newfound celebrity status, they had decided to go big and make a short film of their exploration of Hoia Baciu.

“IAN RICHARD JEFFERS!!” screamed Liv from the bathroom, “You forgot to pack your meds!”. She stomped into the room and tossed his meds in mock anger, and Ian caught it just before it broke his nose. He smiled fondly as he packed them in. He loved the way his baby sister showed these small signs of concern. She had been his only family since their parents died in a car crash a decade ago, and he had been her parent ever since. His entire life revolved around Liv and her happiness, and it was killing him that he had to leave her and go away for as long as a fortnight. It was the first time in a decade that he was leaving without her. But she was in her senior year of college and she could not miss her classes. Besides, she would get a job after college, which might require her to move away from him. It was better that they got used to it, he thought. He remembered again that he had something important to talk to her about. It had been nagging him incessantly ever since he fell upon that piece of news. But it had to wait for now. He couldn’t risk leaving her alone after he broke it to her.

One hour later, Ian and Mike stood next to their convertible, packed and ready to take off. Mike was already inside, gluing a photograph of him and his girlfriend Emma onto the dashboard. They were to drive to Charlotte to catch their flight. Liv stood in the driveway, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. Kevin, her boyfriend, had his arms around her. “Remember what I said about keeping the house clean, Livvy? And you better have my cinnamon rolls in the oven when I’m back!” said Ian, as he tossed his rucksack into the boot. Liv came running into his arms. “Be back soon, Ebo Kneibo!” she said. “I’ll be back before you realize I’m gone!” Ian said and jumped into the car. They could hear distant clouds rumbling as they pulled out of the driveway. They probably had a rough drive ahead, thought Ian. “Call me when you reach Charlotte!!” screamed Liv behind them.

***

The rain came steady and cold against the windshield at first, and rattled on the roof of the car. As it became darker, the headlights of the car made the wet highway shimmer. Outside, the wilderness raced along on both the sides. Mike’s driving was smooth, weaving between the scanty traffic with ease. The steady hum of the engine along with the rhythmic ticking of the wiper on the windshield was making Ian a bit drowsy. He sat watching the streetlamps go by one after another. And just as he sensed the rain becoming heavier, he felt himself comfortably drifting off to sleep.

The next thing he heard was the loud crash of thunder just before their car was thrown in the air. Ian felt weightless for a moment before what felt like the crushing of every bone in his body to smithereens. And then there was nothingness….

Until he woke up. The first thing he saw was water droplets glistening on the dead leaves of the floor of the forest. He took a moment to regain his bearings and remembered that he was in a car crash. He stared at the spark of sunlight reflecting on the little orb of water. It was day and that meant they had missed their flight! He slowly summoned his strength and made an effort to get up. It was easier than he thought it would be. He sat up and looked around him. He was in a thick overgrowth and he could hear the distant roar of traffic from somewhere above him. It seemed like their car had rolled off down a ridge.

The car and Mike were nowhere to be seen. A sudden sense of dread arose within him. He began glancing around frantically, taking quick, small steps, looking for either. “MIKE!!!” he screamed. If he was awake, Mike should be too, he thought. Or just about on the edge of his consciousness. “MIKEY!!” he shouted again, hoping that that is all he needed – a nudge to get into consciousness. “Mikey, please tell me you’re alive!” he whispered, terrified. He did not know the intensity of the car crash, or what it was that had caused it. All he could remember was the deafening clap of thunder just before he felt his world go topsy-turvy. He ran up a slope shouting and hoping to hear Mike’s voice calling him back. But he heard nothing other than the slow drone of early morning traffic up on the Interstate. As he went closer to the Interstate, he heard a few muffled voices, but he felt a sense of urgency about them. He started towards the voices, expecting they were there to help them and hoping dearly that Mike would be with them.

On the highway, he found the open doors of an ambulance at a distance from where he stood. Two men in overalls had just put a stretcher inside the ambulance. There were a bunch of others, including two cops and a few of the ambulance staff, descending into the woods. He hurried towards the ambulance, calling out to them. But they did not hear him. The two men from the ambulance were now walking away in the opposite direction. He now saw that there was someone on the stretcher. He broke into a run and as he ran, he saw their car through the trees, a few feet down the slope. It was crushed beyond recognition and fuming in places. He would get back to it later for his equipment. He had to see if the person in the ambulance was Mike. He ran straight into the ambulance. What met his eyes was frightful! It was Mike alright, but not all of him. Half of his face seemed to be charred to the bone. A white sheet covered the rest of his body. The sight coupled with an overwhelming despair made Ian nauseous. He stumbled out of the vehicle and fell onto the curb, sobbing violently.

After he knew not how long, the sobs subsided and his mind went blank. He lay there staring vacantly at the ground below him. Then he slowly pulled himself together, got to his feet and started walking away from the ambulance. He had to get far away from it. From Mike. From his now shattered life. None of it mattered now. He didn’t want any of it with Mike gone. Romania felt like a century ago. Mike’s voice came ringing back in his hear “I’m so fucking excited and terrified about this!”. His voice brought back the nausea, so he pushed the thought away.

He had unconsciously walked towards their battered convertible. It lay overturned in a small clearing just off the highway. He loosely glanced around to see if any of their belongings had survived. Not because any of it mattered anymore, but because it seemed like the obvious thing to do when he found himself there. He crouched down to see the inside. Mike and Emma’s photograph stared back at him. Even that was half burnt on Mike’s side. Ian burst into a fresh fit of sobs. What would he tell Emma? He knew Mike wanted to propose to her right after their trip to Romania. That thought brought a heavy load onto his heart. He thought it would burst under its weight. Ian got up and ran from there too.

He had to be by Emma’s side, he thought. And then he remembered his sister. Liv! She would be worried sick that she hadn’t got a call from them the night before! He frantically searched for his cell phone. It was not on him. He had to get to those people from the rescue unit. They were sure to have a cell phone that he could use. He went further into the forest in search of them. A few steps ahead, he could hear them faintly. He followed their voices again. When he finally caught up with them, they seemed to be crouching over something near a thick overgrowth. “Hey!” he said. “Does anybody have a cell phone? I was in the car crash last night.” But they did not seem to hear him. He thought maybe he was too far away to be audible. He stepped closer to them and said a bit louder, “Hey, have a cell phone?”. They still did not hear him. What was it that they were seeing so intently, he thought. He went to take a closer look. “We should probably call another ambulance”, the only woman in the group said. Ian frowned. Something about what she said seemed odd. As he stepped closer to the group, he thought he saw something familiar in the thing that held the group’s attention. As he stood over the group of people, one of the guys stood up to take a call and he finally saw what they were seeing. Him!! And what looked familiar a moment ago was the checked shirt that he was wearing.

Ian swore and took a step back. “What the F*CK!!” he screamed. Although it was pretty loud, none of them showed any sign of hearing it. In fact, none of them were even conscious of his existence so far. For a moment, Ian was baffled, and then he realized what was happening. “NO!!! This cannot be happening!!” he said out loud, shaking his head. He took a step forward and took in what was lying on the ground. A huge branch of a tree, now freshly sawed, lay protruding from his gut. His left eye was swollen, so was part of his lip. His clothes were torn and burnt in places, what was left of them anyway. A big chunk of his left thigh was missing. He couldn’t stand to look at himself anymore. He looked away and backed off. He collapsed onto the forest floor, disturbed and indignant. In a moment of conscious understanding, everything that happened came back to him as a proof of what he refused to believe. He had felt it vastly easy to get onto his feet after he came to consciousness. Although he was lying on the wet forest floor, he felt dry as dust. The two men near the ambulance had not heard him call for them. These people had no idea he was around. Was he a…. GHOST??!

“NO!!! No, no, no, no!!!” he screamed, “There are no such things as ghosts!”

“HEY!!!! Can you hear me?” he shouted at the group. They were all busy making calls or talking among themselves. Nobody heard him. He ran to the woman. She was talking to somebody on her cell phone. Ian tried to touch her. She broke off for a split second and then continued as if nothing had happened. Ian swore again, loudly this time.

“THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING!!” he shrieked to the air. And then he ran as fast as he could, away from them, out onto the highway and towards Asheville – home. When sense returned, he noticed that he wasn’t panting even though he had just run a mile. No sweat. No feeling whatsoever! That was ominous!

He slowed to a walk. No, I cannot keep running away, I have to think this through, he thought. Instinctively, he turned around and started walking back slowly. A torrent of questions were now swirling inside his head. The foremost question was: HOW was this happening? There was no explicable scientific phenomena that could justify this! What was he? A ghost? A spirit? A phantom? A figment of his own imagination? He was sure he wasn’t dreaming. Dreams were not this detailed. And then he realized that Mike wasn’t around. He decided to go back to the ambulance to check if Mike was around. Because, he worked out that if Mike was in a similar conundrum, he wouldn’t leave the site of the accident.

The ambulance that had Mike was gone. There was another in its stead. This one had him. “Time of death: 0800 hours”, the woman was saying. That was about the time he woke up, Ian realized. Which meant that he had entered this weird state of non-existence the moment his person had breathed his last. And with the sort of injuries that Mike had sustained, he must have died nearly instantaneously the previous night. If Mike was in this mess, he would have been at it for hours now. He would have most like headed back home, he concluded.

That nearly decided what his next course of action should be: walk back home. Or whatever this floaty-walky thing was called! He suspected Mark would be there, and Liv was there. But would Liv be able to see him? Or feel him? Had she got news of his death yet? She would be devastated to hear it. He wanted to comfort her, to reassure her that she would be alright without him. He would have to be there for Emma as well. And so, he started on his journey back.

***

“Asheville 23 mi.” read the overhead sign. He had walked all of 1 mile when he started seeing the futility of his being. There was no one who could see him or talk to him. There was no hunger or thirst or fatigue. He felt neither hot nor cold, could not feel the ground he was “walking” on and could not feel the drizzle on his skin (or the lack of it!). No wonder spirits take pleasure in scaring people, he thought, it’s their idea of fun! He laughed silently at the irony of his situation. He had spent the past few years showing people that ghosts don’t exist, and made a hilarious show of it. It had even made him a fortune. And now he was a ghost himself! If only he could look into his camera and say “BAZZZZINGAAA!!” as a final episode to his show. He would consider his life fulfilled. What better ending could he hope for after the twist that his life had just taken!

Did he regret leading his viewers to believe that there was no such thing as paranormal activity? Frankly, none of it mattered anymore. He had begun to realize that there was much more in the world than the human mind could comprehend. And to believe that the human mind was capable enough to decipher every little intricacy of the universe was naivety. If people did things that were not entirely credible, it had to be recognized that they did it in their ignorance – their one true nature! That did not make him guilty of anything. It was fun while it lasted, and that was that. He did not feel obligated to impart the truth to his viewers. There was an entire world out there trying to do that for him.

At long last, when he reached their driveway, he found the front door ajar. Liv never left the door open! He ran inside, keeping in mind not to shout or not to make too much noise. If Liv could see him, he didn’t want to scare the living daylights out of her. He tiptoed into the living room. Was he smelling cigarettes? Kevin wouldn’t smoke, he was asthmatic. Livvy? He didn’t know she smoked. Wait, how was he even smelling things? If he couldn’t feel things, how could he smell? If one sense organ wasn’t working, how was the other? But then again, he was seeing!! Another human naivety at play, he gathered.

There was nobody at home, just a half smoked cigarette, still lit perched on the window sill. The butt had a faint trace of her lipstick. How had he never observed that she smoked? He took his chance and called for Mike. Nobody answered. He sat down in a corner to think what he could do next. The way he saw it, an empty house was a great chance to explore his ability. He sprang back up and walked to his study. The door was closed. There are no doors or walls for ghosts, he realized with a sudden glee. He put his hand through the door. It vanished behind the wood! Amused, he sprang through the door and landed on the inside of his study. Ah! Finally some fun! But his elation was short-lived. He was there for a purpose. He stood in front of his desk and decided to try to write. That was his backup if Livvy couldn’t see him. He extended his hand and held it over his pen for a few moments. If this did not work, he would be left disabled in a lonely, dark world. Slowly he reached for his pen. He could almost feel what he touched. But then he realized that it was just the memory of how it felt, not the feeling itself. He tried to grab it. It moved, but he couldn’t hold it. He tried again. It moved again, but nothing more. He tried to move it around, and he could. But nothing more. He walked up to the blinds next to his desk. He ran his hand along and he could see that it swayed like it normally would on being touched. That was good. Next, he went to his book shelf. With a swift motion of his hand he tried to dislodge a few books. A few of them showed signs of movement and the last book in the row (“Poltergeists: Examining Mysteries of the Paranormal”) fell on its ridge and lay open on the floor. He bent down and tried to flick the open pages. At first he was able to do it, the few loose ones. But then, it went flat like the pen. That is it, he thought, that was the extent of his ability.

He then silently settled in a corner, waiting for his sister to come back home.

***

He was deep in thought when he finally heard approaching voices. He heard the thud of a closing door of a car and then hurried footsteps. It was Liv, running into the house, tears streaming down her face. Her eyes were bloodshot. It looked like she had been crying all night. “Liv, you need me!” Kevin shouted behind her.

“Just get the fuck out of my sight, Kev!” Liv shouted back and shut the door.

Ian decided that if Liv could see him, the best way to show up was to just be bang in the middle of her way. He stood up next to the couch where she would see him as soon as she turned around. Liv turned around and walked to the telephone, right past him. She couldn’t see him!

Dejected, Ian collapsed on the couch, his hand clutching his hair as a sign of despair. He lay there motionless as Liv called her friend to come over and then headed over to the kitchen to make lunch for herself, all the while smoking a cigarette. This was all strange to Ian – the cigarette, Liv’s anger at Kevin, his helplessness. He neither knew what to make of all of it, nor how to react to any of it. His complete inability to influence his sister’s life at that point in time made him feel all the more miserable. He had one last sliver of hope though – that Liv could hear him, if not see him! He tiptoed into the kitchen and stood by the refrigerator, afraid to make his move. He watched his baby sister fix her lunch, a cigarette on her lips and tears rolling down her cheeks. He took a deep breath (not that he needed to breathe!), and geared up mentally to try the last of his arsenal. “Livvy…” he whispered. It was a cry of desperation, heavy with all the love that he could muster. He heard the helplessness in his own voice. He waited for a response from her, but there came none. “Livvy, can you hear me?” he said, his voice breaking, loudly and clearly this time. There was no break in her motion, nothing in her manner that could suggest that her surroundings were any different than what she expected them to be. That was the last straw. Ian collapsed next to the kitchen counter, downhearted. He was at a complete loss of direction now. He sat there baffled, meekly watching his baby sister moving around the kitchen space.

When Liv’s friend came over and stayed for a couple of hours, he just loitered around the house trying to be inconspicuous in his motion. Not that he had to try very hard, but he kept in mind to keep quiet all the same. He was careful not to step on the loose floorboards for fear of making noise, and avoided sitting or lying on the couch lest he leave a human shaped dent on the cushions.

After her friend left, Liv went into the bathroom. He heard her step into the shower. He realized he could easily step into the bathroom and still stay in his sister’s company. He shuddered at the thought. His longing of proximity to Liv did not come from lust or any such twisted feeling. For the past few hours, his only source of solace was the presence of his sister and it was this feeling that had manifested into his want for proximity. He battled with himself over whether or not he should step in, and finally, not being able to think radically, he decided to step in. There would still be the shower curtain, he reasoned. He stepped in through the door and chanced a glance. He could see the silhouette of her slender figure behind the curtain. He settled down next to the linen cabinet and decided to get out the moment he heard the shower turn off. He sat listening to the soft pitter-patter of the running shower and her occasional sobs. The steam from the shower had turned the bathroom slightly dense and the mirror in front of him was fogged up. He kept staring at the misty mirror for a long minute. His mind, like the bathroom, was all foggy. It was trying to make a connection between a ghost of a thought and reality. And then something clicked. He dashed to the mirror and ran his hands over it. “Woooohooooooooo!!!” he screamed immediately. His heart suddenly felt light as a feather and he was dancing with joy on the bathroom floor. His hand had moved the water on the mirror and that meant that he could write! He finally had one means of communication with his sister.

In his ecstasy, he hadn’t noticed that the shower had turned off several seconds ago. The whistles and cries in his world had momentarily masked the sounds of his sister’s. Liv was now stepping out of the shower, clad in nothing but her maroon towel. Ian shut his eyes tight and stood still against the wall. Liv, in the backwash of her sobs, didn’t bother to look up onto the mirror. She walked straight back to her room. Ian did another victory dance, hooted some more before he realized that he would not get a chance to communicate with his Livvy at least until she took her next bath!

***

It was only two days later that he got closer to success. Livvy was not going to take a bath again till the next day and when she did, she seemed to be too lost to see the pleasantry Ian had carefully sketched on the foggy mirror. When she went back into the bathroom ten minutes later, the mirror wasn’t foggy anymore and Ian’s effort had quietly gone down the drain. On his third day as a ghost (or spirit or phantom), he made some progress.

Ian was getting restless. He had patiently been waiting for his sister to feel the need to take a bath and the last time she had felt that need, she had decided not to look at the mirror while walking out. He had been stressed about how he could make her turn to the mirror. His superabundant leisure was getting to him and he had nothing else to think about during his hours of pointless existence. He did not want to follow Liv to her class, so he mostly stayed at home idling away his time and thinking ceaselessly about Livvy and how to communicate with her. He had stepped out a few times to take a walk (or float) in the hope that something out there would give him newer ideas, but had always returned home hastily feeling queasy. His purpose was in the house, he thought. When on the third day Liv came back home, she seemed to be livid. She knocked a few things around the house and screamed with rage. Two hours later when she went in to take a shower, she stayed inside for a long time. Ian had earnestly sketched his greetings on the foggy mirror and sat waiting outside. He frankly hadn’t much hope that she would look at it even today. He did not want to helplessly watch her walk away from the mirror, so he sat on the couch outside instead. He was absorbed in his apathy when he heard her squeal – it was a long and piercing cry of bewilderment.

He ran inside. She was staring at his message; “LIVVY, I’M HERE. – EBO KNEIBO” it read. Her eyes had teared up and she was shrieking, with joy or fear he knew not. “Livvy, calm down!” he said before he realized the futility of his effort. She kept screaming and he got increasingly worried that it would now draw attention from their neighbors. He went over to the mirror and began to write C-A-… She screamed even louder and ran out of the bathroom before he could complete the word. She had run into her room and locked herself in. But she had stopped yelling now, so he decided to let her be.

After about half an hour, he heard her say something. It was faint and subdued. There was no phone in her room and when he looked for her cell phone, he found it on the kitchen counter. So she couldn’t be talking on a call. He slowly entered her room. She was crouching on her bed, clutching her knees to her chest. Her eyes were bloodshot and she clenched at a silver cross hanging from a chain. He could smell cigarettes. She smokes only under extreme distress, he realized.

“Are you around, Ebo Kneibo? Only I call you that! How could anybody know that…” she was saying, almost as a whisper.

Ian wanted now more than ever to sit next to her and comfort her, pat her hair and kiss her. He was aware that he could do none of that and it pained him to be so hopeless. He looked at her longingly, powerlessly.

“If you are here, show me a sign!” she said. She sat up straight, as if ready to face the unknown. Overcome with pride at his little sister’s show of courage, he zealously walked to her. He stood facing her for a long moment, trying to make up his mind on how to show his presence. Her face was taut with fear and resolve, and a lock of hair was hanging loosely by her left ear. He slowly moved that lock of hair back behind her ear. She almost startled, but consciously stiffened as if to refuse to be frightened. “Ian….!!”  she moaned as a fresh stream of tears rolled down her cheeks. She shut her eyes tight for a moment before she wiped her tears away. “I miss you so much!” she said.

“I miss you too, Livvy!” he replied. He knew she couldn’t hear him, but how could he not reply to that?

“Ian, if you are here, why don’t you say something? How long have you been here? Are you a ghost?” she asked and then laughed as she understood the irony of the situation. “Serves you right, doesn’t it? For having made fun at the expense of the departed!” she chuckled. She looked beautiful when she laughed, thought Ian. He suddenly felt a knot in the pit of his stomach as he realized that he would never again be able to sit and watch her laugh heartily.

“Say something!” she begged. He went to the window and ran his hand along the blinds like he had done on his first day in his study. She noticed that. “I cannot hear you, can I?” she said. And then “Can you write on paper?”. He did nothing to respond. She seemed to realize his plight. She ran to the bathroom and Ian followed. The mirror was clear now. She turned on the shower, closed the curtains and stood back. She waited till the mirror fogged up again. His previous message was still faintly visible. “Write!” she ordered.

Ian wrote over his previous message:

“KEVIN IS CHEATING ON U. STAY AWAY”

“That swine!!” she cried. “That comes as no surprise! I thought he was just an asshole, but now I know what a devious little bastard he is!” She went on a rant. “When I first got word of your accident, I hadn’t still wrapped my head around it and this douchebag walks up to me and when I think he is coming to put his arms around me to soothe me down, he says “Hey, you do know Ian’s bank details, don’t you?”. We were worried sick about your whereabouts and all this tightwad thinks about is if I have access to your money!! I mean, what kind of a sick fucker is he!! That was when I really got pissed with him.. I never wanted to see him again. I have been trying to stay away from him since and it has hardly been two days and today I see that dickhead with that bitch Katie. I first thought he was just flirting with her but then on my way back I found his tongue four inches down her throat!!! Fucking asshole!!! We have been together 4 months you know! I mean, I wasn’t exactly planning on marrying him but I deserved a goodbye!! Fuck him!!!! FUCK him!!!!!” she stopped to take a breath. “Hey, but how did you know” she asked and stepped back.

“No, you know what, forget it! It’ll be a longass answer to write, and frankly I don’t care anymore!”

She turned off the shower and went out to the living room. She sat on the couch and continued “You know, I am slightly glad that you are here, now that I think about it. I have somebody to talk to! It gives me new hope. What with you gone and Kevin emerging as a jerk, I hardly had anyone to talk to. Say, it would be nice if I could hear you, wouldn’t it? Well, something better than nothing, I guess…” and she went on and on. She had been chatty all her life and Ian had always patiently listened to all her woes and throws. But he hadn’t ever felt the need to talk back to her as much as he did at that moment. He was itching to convey to her everything else that he wanted to. He was desperately waiting for her to get back into the bathroom. But he listened to her patiently and without complaint. She spoke to him about how she got the news of his death and how their only relative, their paternal uncle, had responded to the news. She told him about the reaction their accident was receiving on social media and how a girl in Connecticut had tried to commit suicide following the news. She also expressed her fear about her exams and the job that she would have to take up after. She spoke about all this and more while she fixed her dinner and ate it, sitting on her favorite recliner. She also told him about the arrangements she was making for his funeral, and asked him if he had any specific request. She knew it was awkward for him to talk about his own funeral, she said, but since she had the opportunity of asking him what he wanted his funeral to be like, she would take it, she thought.

And then finally, she walked into the bathroom again and switched on the shower. “Now tell me what you’d like, Ian” she declared.

STUDY –> DESK –> KEY –> SAFE he wrote. And then, 1218. The code to the safe. 12^th of December. The day their parents had died, ten years ago. Liv ran out of the bathroom, towards his study. Ian felt uneasy for some reason. It was the same queasy feeling he felt when he used to step outside of the house.

When Ian went in, she was fumbling in the drawer of his desk, looking desperately for a key. When she finally found it, she dashed to the safe on the wall opposite, put the key in, turned it, keyed in the code that Ian had scribbled on the mirror and threw it open. There was a single sealed envelope inside. “Olivia Chelsey Jeffers” it read. She turned it over. “Open only when I am dead!” it said. And it was signed “Ebo Kneibo”. She carefully placed it on the desk and sat down to open it.

Ian felt accomplished. A strange sense of calm settled over him. That envelope contained all his account details and other important papers. He knew she would figure out what to do with them. He felt reassured at the fact that he was leaving her with enough to lead a comfortable life until she found her footing. He stood behind Liv and ran his hands through her hair. He did know whether she felt it but he hoped against hope that she did. Before he could get an answer to that, the feeling of unease intensified. He suddenly realized that it was time for him to depart. In the next few seconds he felt a newfound sense of clarity. He understood why he stayed behind and Mike didn’t. He had an unfulfilled responsibility. It was his sense of duty that absolutely forbid him from going away without looking back. Without having tried to fulfil his duty, even if there was only a tiny shred of a chance to do so. He HAD to try. And now that his duty was fulfilled, there was nothing tying him back to this world. He had to move on.

“Bye Livvy!” he said out loud, with a content smile as he felt himself disintegrating. I feel like Pacman, he thought. And that was the last thing he would ever think about!

Of Tangents and Directions…

 

Once in every lifetime,
there comes a person
who blithely waltzes into your life
as if to show
How you want to be treated.
And then – as if to surrender –
you will never want to be handled
any differently!
And what do I count them as,
these tangential encounters?
A reality check? – so I don’t go asunder –
Or my tiny dose of Utopia?
As if the Cosmos, pitying
the noisome mess that is my life –
(or will be?!) – ,
threw me a measly little treat!

 

 

7/3/2016

Soul Search

 

And if I were to lose my soul,
I’d know just where to look
I’d never find it whole,
Just parts, hidden in the folds of a book!
Beside Rilla in war-time Canada,
Or munching buns and cocoa with Fatty and Buster!
Disappearing down a rabbit hole,
Or platform nine-and-three-quarters!
Perhaps settled cozily in a couch
In 221B, Baker’s Street;
Or maybe beside a lovesick fool,
On the banks of the Caribbean, completely beat.
Waltzing in tapestries, or cathedrals
Or even between two unusual, spirited lovers
I’d find my dreamy soul never at ease,
Always sinking into a world between the covers!

Inspiration: Some writer on Mirakee.