This post grabbed the WOW Badge as part of the Write Over The Weekend contest conducted by Blogadda.
Black, a colour of absence,
Mourning and war,
sophistication and power.
Black is a mystery,
untold and encoded.
Black, colour of nothingness.
I can take a stroll in rest of the house without hitting anything and pick anything without any assistance but the store room is a different story altogether. I have no clue how many things have already tumbled down the rack but the last noise stopped me dead in my tracks.
I crouched down and started to fumble on the floor, it’s dark, it always is. Finally I found the bag, it’s heavy and of course it is. It made a gentle sound as the bag sway in my hand; I put my hand inside and marveled the sharp edges against my fingertips. They say when we lose one sense, others get stronger and I can vouch for that. I can’t think why I was here at the first place as I took the Ghunghrus out, it made a shrill noise as the string hit the floor and I savored it, it took me down the memory lane where there were colours, I was on the stage in an auditorium filled with thousands of audience viewers.
Back in the room, I found myself tiding Ghunghru string from my ankles to the calf. Each string has 200 Ghunghrus individually woven. But now what — my mind sluggishly came to the obvious cause– I cannot dance with so much of darkness, my mind was screaming that I am blind now and I cannot take such a risk but my heart, it was singing another tune, hypnotic and I was filled with euphoria as the soulful sound from my ghunghrus brushes my every sense awakening them, I couldn’t believe the enchanting sound I was making, it was never this blissful. It seemed to anchor me and drive that darkness in me away. There was something tangible to it, warmth that enveloped me. Like a flame in the dark, lighting my way. And I took turns and turns with the trital I was hearing in my head, I danced Kathah Kavit till I was delirious, till I couldn’t feel my legs and suddenly I heard Clapping and I stopped.
“I haven’t seen you this happy since,” Vishal croaked “Kishmish was born.” Kishmish is my 2 years old baby, currently with her Dadima on holidays.
“What are you doing here, so early?” I inquired stepping forward and tripped on my beloved ghunghrus but Vishal caught me in time as he always does.
“You are glowing, mesmerizing,” He breathed “Why you ever stop dancing?” He was almost asking to himself, So I just shrugged, honestly I don’t have an answer to that. Was it the pressure of studies at college or work pressure, no clue! But for the first time in 8 months I felt alive. Life seems almost easy. Then I realized Vishal has evaded my question so I tried again “You are early?”
“Come with me, I have something to discuss.” He pivoted me to the bed.
“I… don’t know from where to start…” he stammered, I can imagine his face, all scrambled up deep in thought.
“From the beginning..” I suggested helpfully. I know he must be giving me a look.
“Okay… you remember Dr. Hari, dad’s neighbor?” He started tentatively.
“Of course, I met him last month at mom dad’s 30th marriage anniversary.” I replied indignantly.
“Yes.. Yes you do, He had a heart arrest this afternoon.” He said
“What, How? Is he stable now? We must leave.” I frantically stood and moved towards the closet to pack.
“Wait Vina, there is something else.. He.. umm.. He passed away.” He conceded.
I spin on my heels, and a loud shrill noise of ghunghrus filled the room sending shock waves through the rest of my body.
“We must leave.” I repeated “Now.” My voice quiver.
“I have got the tickets, we have a flight in 3 hours.” He told me “There is something else… as well… Doctor Uncle wished.. He wished to donate his eyes,” He took a long breath when I was holding mine “To you.”
My world rotated at its axis and I was stumbling down. I don’t know what to think, what to say.
“Am I a bad person, Vina?” he choked “I have always been close to Doctor Uncle, he has been my partner in crime when I was little, I couldn’t breathe when Mumma called me but I ,” He stuttered “I am also happy, does that make me a bad person? You will be able to see again, that thought soothes me. Am I making any sense?”
As I recovered from the shock, I wiped the tears that have found its way down my cheeks. I hate this constant darkness, feeling of nothingness, the colour Black.
But I wasn’t listening, because my mind was saying “Yes, yes,” almost shouting at the thought of colours splashed around but my heart was saying “No”. My heart and mind had not been in sync lately and their games have started to aggravate me. Doctor Uncle has always been so kind to me and even after life he has thought to give me second chance to life but how could I do this to him. I absolutely cannot. Suddenly my mind conjured an image of a girl Neha I haven’t seen but met during therapy sessions, she is ten and craves to see the sunlight she likes to feel on her skin every morning, wants to see the flowers she smells, she wants to see her parents, her dolls, She want to see the life and she deserves it more.
“I know there is a lot to take in… We don’t have to decide now. We’ll go there first. One step at a time”
I finally found my voice “Neha… She deserves it more.”
“Neha!! but… you are not thinking clearly, as I said,” he urged “One step at a time.”
**THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. NAMES, CHARACTERS, PLACES AND INCIDENTS EITHER ARE PRODUCTS OF THE AUTHOR’S IMAGINATION OR ARE USED FICTITIOUSLY. ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ACTUAL EVENTS OR LOCALES OR PERSONS, LIVING OR DEAD, IS ENTIRELY COINCIDENTAL….