Monday, December 04, 2006

Woe Infinitum

The door was still locked. All my efforts to find the key went in vain. And my senses had begun to give up. Stupefied by the exertion and out of sheer desperation, I slammed my fist hard on the door. I wanted to cry out aloud, but a whimper was all that I could have uttered. After all, the ants were watching me. Surprisingly, or shockingly rather, the door opened by the thump. It was never locked…...
With apprehensive steps, I entered the room. Even though the lights were on, the room was dark. The tube lights above were connected end-to-end and formed a big halo. It illuminated just a narrow region, making rest of the room appear even darker. To my utter surprise, the halo seemed to be the devil itself in disguise. How could the only source of light be fiendish? To add to that, my vision was obscured by a haze thinning out with every moment that passed by, only to get murkier. The room was empty.
Faint noises could be heard from somewhere. Everything, every element of the room seemed to inebriate me with delirium. I started feeling cold. I looked around for some support. It was then that the wall caught my eye. The wall undulated to the mumbled noises and grew bigger with each reverberation. A rickety table lay in front of the wall the wall, with a rotting clock above it. The table was infested with termites and the clock was, astonishing as it may seem, being devoured by a host of ants. The ants went nowhere and didn’t appear to build anything from what they feasted upon. The clock was disappearing, slowly and steadily. The table had a woman’s statue besides it. With one of the most distressing expressions ever seen by me, it seemed to emanate gloomy vibes all around. With tears in its eyes, the statue rankled me to the core.
Something moved in the corner. Anxiously, I turned around and saw him sitting on a chair. My confidant, my closest companion was always there. He knew it all and was always there in the room. Yet, he never revealed it to me. I went closer and was taken aback with what I witnessed next. He had turned into a ghastly figure. With hollowed eyes and blood dripping from the fingernails, he was no longer me. In spite of his pitiful state, he was relentlessly reading a book, rambling incessantly to himself. The ants were watching him too. I tried to talk to him, but no sound could come out from my mouth. I tried to shout but was helplessly unable to do so. With only one aim in his mind, he had completely forgotten about anything that existed outside the room. I was alone once again……
Despondently, I looked around for the last time. The keys were there, right in front of me. The door was never locked. Somebody had unlocked the door and had been awaiting me all that time. Maybe the person wanted to talk to me. Maybe the person was always there for me and I had ignored the door. Everything boiled down to a stream of maybes and a despairing concoction of what-could-have-beens. Maybe, I never looked in all this time. As that realization dawned on me, my heart kept sinking to the depths of desolation.
Now, only an image remains, a reflection refusing to fade away. I just wish I could talk to her once. Maybe, I have lost her………...…..forever.

2 comments:

Diptanshu said...

Pardon me for taking the privilege of giving the first comment on this post, but a few clarifications were sought for in my previous post. Now, I do not pomise to do this everytime or, better put, never to do it.
@ Anonymous
For the kazzilionth time, thanks. It took me no more than a jiffy to realize who you are.
@ feenix
"Second" sort-of?? boo hoo...
@ tobile
Clarifications: unkill, bandiraj, buddyraj refer to Maniraj.
Aathi, LSR, Mr. Raman, bacchi raman, baccha raman, RJ, Haathi ravan refer to a girl who doesn't have faltoo time at all aaaand, has been relentlessly calling me cute (jackie-ing is what I just did).
@ bluestar alias mother's sister
Blogs are not written, they're typed...but still, thanks.
@ Pratik Gupta
Good imagination, buddy
@ aj
This happened when deep-slumbering was taught as a lesson. Our professors float innovative courses, don't they?

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