The room was white and sparse. Her eyes ran towards the fine crack running towards the ceiling. Tilting  her head sideways, she smiled her crooked smile. In a split second, she saw a million things dancing in front of her simultaneously: the brilliant psychedelic butterflies fluttering about, a hazy rainbow at a distance, the rain and from somewhere, all of a sudden, she heard Moonlight Sonata. She held up her hands, bound by white cloth, and swayed gently to the music. This is where I belong. This must be heaven. Not for long, though. All of a sudden, the dark clouds loomed in front of her. Her eyes flickered and dulled immediately. She looked about in panic, but found the infinite white, blank space confusing. What is happening? She grappled with her hands, clawing into thin air. As she began to stand, the chair, nailed to the floor, refused to budge. Her heartbeat rose and beads of perspiration formed on her forehead. Why am I chained?! Her eyes welled up and she sobbed helplessly. As quickly as it started, the dark clouds vanished. The bright sun came out again and she giggled like a hapless child, tears still set on her cheeks.

He  noticed her from a distance. What has become of her? His eyes welled up as he beheld the floundering, yet graceful figure in front of him. Sharp features marked her face: jet black eyes, prominent chin, pursed lips, flushed skin. What a waste, he thought, miserably, of his 23-year-old sister. What a shame.

Without a blink, he turned around and marched towards the exit door, slamming it hard behind him. She cocked her head instantly to the noise. Ah. Thunder. It’s going to rain soon, she smiled.

Wet, dark and dingy. She scurried towards the nearest gaping crevice in front of her. Wait! What is that noise? Sort of scampering. Like a  mouse. She felt for her arms and instead felt a dense mass of soft, wet fur. She froze. What?!

She woke up with a start, heart thumping out of her chest. For the third time in a week!  The recurring dream couldn’t salvage her waning sanity. This has got to stop, she shuddered. Adjusting her night gown, the 36-year-old got out of her bed and reached for her slippers. They were gone. Don, she smiled, almost instantly.

“DON!”

Heavy, thumping noise almost shook the ground and ‘Don’ pounded towards her, a fierce, flaming golden retriever. He got on the bed and jumped on her. She did not resist. In his mouth he held her slippers, now chomped and chewed to a hideous pulp. She gently pulled it off his mouth and threw it on the floor. Holding the dog as close to her as possible, she whimpered. Silent tears gave way to horrendous bawling and the dog yelped his way out of her grasp and bounded to the safety of his kennel downstairs. She looked away helplessly. Hate me. She looked up and caught herself in the mirror. Pale, flawless skin held bright, captive eyes and bow-shaped lips. She shuddered again.  Hate me.

Despairingly sultry breeze hit her face the moment she stepped out of her apartment. It’s not going to be an easy day, after all, she thought. Dressed in a pale blue sundress, she clutched her bag tightly and held it close to her breast as she made her way towards the black, shiny auto parked on the extreme end of the lot. Her worn-out silver stilettos clip-clopped against the harsh granite road.

As she sat inside her car, she adjusted the rear mirror, shifted it to the left where she could observe her face for just a second. Large pores sprawled across her nose and cheeks, thick eyebrows, drooping lips and small eyes. Ugly. A shudder, and she put on the ignition and drove towards the main road.

20 minutes later, she was parking in front of a park. The Upotum Park. This is where it all started. And so here shall it end. Her face convulsed into a smile, then a grimace. All of a sudden, it wasn’t so hot now. The evening was waning and she had only about an hour to finish her job. She reached for the packet lying on the next seat. And then it all came back to her. Her hand started trembling, heart palpitating, and as if in searing pain, she opened the door, shut it with a bang, and collapsed headlong on the ground.

As if on cue, foam emanated from her mouth and her body shook violently for the next 7 minutes.

Er. Um

 

They are a cynical version of my notebook. They flutter violently with the slightest breeze. They crackle loudly when crumbled ever so lightly. They invite me to a world of momentary but plain enjoyment. Every page, every scribble, scrawl, doodle, written word can jeopardize your extraordinary future. You do not leave them behind. You do not disrespect them.

I call them friends.

 

Uh. um.

The painfully void canvas stared at her.

She sat on the couch for the longest time. Her numb fingers could not identify the smooth glossy brushes and gooey paint sitting on the palette. Slowly lifting her index fingers to her temples, she massaged the sides of her forehead in a lethargic fashion. Her stoic face twitched and her drooping lips struggled to curve in the opposite direction.

The faded blue t-shirt and checked shorts explained her drowsy state. Her breath was stale. Of toast and eggs: the one cuisine menu she had etched on her brains. Food was mechanical. Banal.

The soft ringlets caressed her neck, playfully heaving and falling, on her heavy shoulders. The block window she had left open. The breeze, though, wasn’t too strong. It’s going to rain.

The dark wooden furniture seemed to glare at her with disdain. Closing in on her every nano-second of her existence. The bed she had longed to love stood, with remorse spread across it. Her computer blinked and died. The phone never rang too.

It was circles like these that terrified her.

 

 

Two shades of purple

My brother and I have very little in common. He likes ‘The Third Reich’; I almost passed out after “The Prodigal Daughter”. I crinkle my nose at the sight of him hogging on a hybridized version of English breakfast. He despises all my ‘ugly and fat’ friends. I scoff at his limited know-how of music. He sniggers at me crying through movies.

When Prateek was born, I poked his eyes and pulled his ears. Toys had become a dull company.  I don’t recall being jealous, as is often an established stereotype regarding the first-born. My parents, however, beg to differ. Three years later, my constant poking and pushing drove Prateek to slap me for the first time. Stunned, I not only mustered slight reverence for my baby brother, but it also took away the bully out of me. This incident also triggered a partnership of a sort, between us, for all schemes juvenile and sinister.

Growing up, however, was different. All of a sudden, being seen with each other was embarrassing enough than falling headlong in front of a hundred people. Things had changed at home too. My mother was frequently seen hollering to us, standing outside two locked doors, her voice deafened by the blaring music.  This wasn’t an issue, though, for an army background had induced ample discipline in us and our average academic performance kept our father from intervening. Therefore, our fights and abuses were often kept confidential and to maintain it, we formed the best alliance.

Prateek has an uncanny sense of humor that spares him any moment of uneasiness or sadness. So when I was leaving home for college, I was secretly annoyed by the manner he was blatantly rejoicing. My mother later informed me how listless he was the day I was gone. I simply grumbled in doubt.  Prateek and I take after our father. We are not the most expressive people. When I come home, we communicate amicably by trying not to hurt each other, physically.

Now I am 20 and he, 18. We still can’t hold up a mature conversation except when we have to let the other down in sufficiently intellectual arguments. Our telephonic conversations are restricted to “hey, um, just called to ask you for so-and-so”. A few seconds become too long and an awkward “bye” has become a norm.

I assume we haven’t grown up yet, completely. However, I could do away with the whole business of it, and so would Prateek. For I’m sure we see each other more clearly when we write ‘wills’ and bury them in the backyard, experiment while cooking a dish out of a recipe book, laugh throughout a lame movie, conspire against an irksome cousin to get rid of him — all of this and much more, together.