WHAT IF I SAY THAT HE WAS NOT WRONG
He stood in the center of the parking lot. His hands could hardly
feel the glass bottle that they grasped firmly. It was broken. So were his
thoughts. There was nothing much that he could see in the basement lot which
was on a standstill with broken lights and surrounded with walls that echoed. He
tried to put himself together by focusing on the possible trace of noise
produced by the world outside. But for his desperation all that he could hear was
the monotony of the heavy down pour and occasional roaring of the sky. He stood
there still dazed. He was not worried of how he is going to be judged. He did
not have any concerns of right and wrong. He did not find the need for
reasoning. He stood there without any thought crossing his mind.
The roars from the sky seemed to be nearing the parking lot.
Now he could feel the breeze over his face for a moment. The whole of the
parking lot lit up for few seconds with a flash of lightning. And now he could
see the ever so sharp edges of the broken glass bottle. And not for much of his
surprise, it was smeared with blood. Now a thought crossed his mind and took a
step back just so as to lean on the pillar which was not square, behind his
back. It felt uncomfortable. So did his mind. He glared at the ceiling as to get
an answer even though he did not have question in his mind. It seemed to him
that he was answered for his attempt. Now he could hear a noise, which did not
fit in the monotony. He could not interpret the new tone in the old song but it
reminded him of one thing. His mind now sent him the first word since a while,
and that was ‘police’. His feet signaled him to run. But his brain still
failed to interpret it. Now, he could feel the breeze all over his body. And the
light from the outside world lit the floor well enough for him to see the body
of the owner. The owner, whose blood he managed to smear on the broken bottle. He
saw a bunch of men in uniforms and caps with revolver held next to their
shoulder pointing up towards the ceiling..
When the heaven close all of the doors look for a new one. He
did not remember that. But he could find a door behind the pillar which as just
a few steps away. He turned back and took one last look at the ‘owner of the
blood’. He disappeared from the door and
the men in the uniform missed his back in a moment of lapse. Suddenly he stopped
perceiving his way. The broken thought too, seemed to have vanished. But now he
could feel his heart beat in long time and he could sense his breathing. He opened
his eyes and looked at the ceiling again. It was still blank and had no answer.
After a long pause, he could hear a lady’s voice asking him why he always
stands in a corner and stares at the ceiling. You could try something new, say
standing on top of the terrace and looking down.” You would at least fall down”
she said as she moved the flowers from the table top and placed them on the
vase. He just watched her leave the room just a always..
He started thinking now. Rather his mind started. He was at
peace when he stood back at the parking lot. It all started with the incoming
of light. He thought to himself. This is not the first time he was chased. But indeed
this was the most worst for him. He did not find the need to explain his wife
because all that she would say is ‘you are worthless’. He decided to get rid of all the light in the
room. He tried his best. H even broke the window pane and dressing mirror
because they seemed to b friend with light. He found more light outside the
room. He decided to end it all today. He picked up the broken window glass and
decided to go for it. Get rid of the light from the whole world. He seemed to
have disappeared again..
But now when he woke up, to his surprise he was still in his house. And he still had the broken glass piece in his hand. It was again smeared
with blood. On the floor he recognized his wife. He was surrounded by bunch of
men in uniform. But this time they walked him out of the front door rather
forcefully. He turned back and looked at her for one last time. He let his
voice say ‘I was just trying to get rid of the light. Because the feel of
staring at empty ceiling let m in peace rather than the thought of jumping from
the terrace’
As usual his voice went unheard. But this was different. He heard
people say that he killed his wife. They told that he was mentally ill. There
as not even one of them who came up to him to ask what made him reach that
stage. There was not even an instance before, when his wife asked him why he
stood in the corner and stared at the ceiling for so long.. Never.. So who was
being really ill..he thought to himself as he rested his head on the worn out
wall..
He was not right.. But he was not wrong either..
He was not right.. But he was not wrong either..
-Sowmya
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