Sujay Hegde.
From above, everything looked colorful. Like a multitude of flowers in a bouquet and a multitude of bouquets lain on the ground.
From above, everything seemed desultory.
From above, everything was chaos. Like the collective reaction of a colony of marching ants when stepped on or intruded. It was all colorful chaos. And not one person cared.
Why would they? They had no reason to.
The clock would strike twelve in about five minutes and the world would erupt with a collective, ear piercing shriek that would mark the entry of a new year.
It was going to be a good end and an even better beginning. They had no reason to care. They had reached this far and had absolutely no intentions of reverting to their old selves.
“It’s four minutes to midnight folks! And we still can’t feel your euphoria.”
As if in answer to a posed challenge, the crowd gave a full blast of their screams in reply.
He tried to shift his drunken gaze to the voice that was bellowing on stage. Everything was so, flimsy. His walk, his arms and legs felt so weak. He swayed in his drunken stupor for a while before trying to adjust.
The ground first, focus on the ground. Okay.
Okay.
He lifted his head slowly and moved his eyeballs. The people directly in front of him didn’t seem like people at all. More like, contorted shadows. His vison was hazy and he could see that a great mist enveloped the entire crowd. The mist was glowing. Green, at times. Then blue, then red and then a whole smorgasbord of colors. The mist was occasionally disturbed by people jumping up and down and swinging side by side. The mist did not seem perturbed about that. Neither did the people.
For it was going to be a new year. A great, splendid, new year.
The sound hit him seconds after he grasped the situation around him. The music. Oh god, the music. It sounded torturous. There were screams (or were those from the people?) and it sounded like a vinyl disc being scratched over and over and over again. It was nonstop. It was erratic, with electronic noises securing their foothold every now and then. It was strong and mental. It was a being and it latched on to him like gecko latches itself on to a surface. And it commanded him to move, to sway to the stupid and senseless screeches and weird instrumental noises. It forced him to jump and to shout and to let go of all his senses and stamp the ground in an alcohol induced frenzy. He danced. He danced and danced and shook his head like a crazed mad man. He danced and moved forward and fell. He got up, mumbled an apology and continued dancing.
This continued for a long time, and in between there was a pause, not of silence, but of a monstrous roar from the people that rocked through his body and made every strand of hair stand on its edge. People hugged each other and wished each other and kissed one another. And then the dancing continued.
He danced until he felt dizzy and puked. He bent over, spat on ground and waddled across the wave of people. He chose a spot nearby and sat there, looking at his watch. His vision was still hazy and he knew that he could not go on like this for long. He sat there with a hand under his chin and closed his eyes. The music still blared and he felt the force pulling at him and he wanted nothing more but to be a part of this crowd and enjoy this one night, this one night.
So, he stood up, felt dizzy and collapsed again. He thought, if he rested for a while and waited, he’d get his gusto back and resume his mad rampage on the ground again.
But after you cross your threshold of alcohol induced party euphoria, you cannot go back. You are tired and nauseated and just want to relax.
He looked up, again. People were still dancing in front of him, the stage was illuminated with lights, swiveling and lighting up every goddamned corner of the huge area that they were assembled in. The Disc jockeys kept screaming and beating their hands against the air and occasionally doing something with their paraphernalia.
Lights, colors, music and people. And more of that horrible smelling mist.
Colorful random chaos.
I am through with this
He got up slowly, trudged his way through to the parking lot, stopping by to wish everyone a great year ahead. He searched around for his vehicle. Upon failing to, he fished out his key and pressed a button. Somewhere in the distance, a car beeped like a puppy yelping. Twice.
He got there, opened the door and fell into the driver’s seat. He sat there for a while, with his one hand on the steering wheel, placed limply. His eyes were closed and his phone was pinging loudly with a vast incoming of messages. He inserted the key, started his car and drove away from all the frenzy that was emanating from the center stage.
He felt alive now, after a long time. This was one of his best nights and a long drive back home was just what he needed. He stepped on the gas and his car roared in acknowledgement. In a few seconds, he was speeding through the highway. Most of them were out partying and that meant there was very less traffic. The needle of the speedometer fluctuated between the higher speeds and like a caterpillar, edged ahead. He sported a very wicked grin on his face and zoomed through the curves and bridges and felt a familiar surge of adrenaline coursing through him. He edged close to the curves, braked and let the tail end of his car drift. He was driving at dangerous speeds and conquering curves that over looked cliffs.
If only they could see me now.
There was a brief moment of darkness before he opened his eyes. Fortunately, his vision wasn’t hazy anymore. But he felt light headed, very. There was a low, continuous drone like sound in the
back of his head and it was almost a full minute before he could think again. After a while, he took his surroundings in.
He was back home, finally. Standing in the front of his porch, he tried remembering if he put his car back in the garage. He checked his watch, the hands read 1:33.
Too late to be standing out now.
He went back inside and staggered to his bedroom, keeping in mind not to make further noise. That was necessary, for if he did make noise, his parents would wake up, which would result in a banter. No sir, he did not want that. And oh boy, did he like this feeling. This low buzz, constantly whirring inside his head like a bee trapped inside a tiny box. It was almost peaceful and sleep would be splendid around this time. He chose not to change his clothes, for he seemed comfortable enough in them and crashed onto his bed. He hit it with a soft thump. His head felt fuzzy and he closed his eyes.
When he realized that he wasn’t going to get any sleep, he rubbed his face and got out of bed. It was morning. Breakfast might help. He needed something in his stomach, some weight to fetch him sleep. He walked out of his bedroom, gently rubbing his tummy and made his way to the kitchen bar. He felt really tired, like all the energy had been sapped from his body. He still felt light headed and fuzzy. His mouth tasted like cotton. He stood in the kitchen for a while, contemplating what to eat. Or drink. Oddly, his stomach felt full. Well, not completely full, just enough to make him not want any more food. He felt stranger and stranger when he decided to ditch both food and water and make his way to the washroom to freshen up. His feet felt large somehow. Like a giant’s foot, only this was more like small feet enclosed in an enormous soft, Styrofoam like material. He chuckled and opened the door to the washroom. He placed his hands on the wash basin and yawned deeply. His face had a soft, unnatural glow. He touched his cheek and pulled it. Yawned again. He stood there for a while, hands on his hips. Looking absently into the mirror.
Some movement in the right corner of his eye caught his attention. The window was open and he made his way towards it slowly. He could see people, lots of them. In throngs.
What the heck?
He stood on his toes and placed his hands on the window sill for a better view. There was a lot of commotion, a lot more people. Amidst all these, he saw his mother. Soon enough, his father and everyone else came into view. He forgot to wash his face and made his way outside. He reached his lawn and absorbed the scene. His jaw hung slightly from his mouth as he looked at the thing. People surrounded it like bees, touching it, clicking pictures.
It was crushed, beyond repair. Dented in several places and broken. It lay on the lawn, unperturbed by the crowd, in its own broken universe.
It belonged to the junk yard, and only when he stepped in for a closer look he realized, truly now, that it was his own car. He could recognize it by the remaining flame colored paint on the sides he’d got done a long time ago. It would look like a blazing fireball hurtling through the highway. His jaw hung more loosely now and soon, fear gave way to realization and finally to anger. He clenched his teeth hard and let out a huge cry. It was lost in the din of the crowd. He felt like crying, like tearing up the remaining parts of the car and thrusting it down the throat of the person
responsible for this. He went in closer and placed his hands upon it. He kneeled down and banged his hand on the dented door repeatedly.
Where’s mom? Where’s dad?
He looked up frantically, like a baby, searching for his parents. They probably were furious and thought that he was the one responsible for this horrendous behavior. His gut feeling said so. His stomach felt knotted and he pushed through people, who seemed to disappear at his mere touch. All along, he thought of an explanation before they started to yell at him. He edged ahead and found them kneeling on the ground. His mother had placed her entire face in the palms of her hands and her whole body shook. Violently. His father had placed a consoling hand on her back and had pressed his index and thumb fingers into his eyes. His mouth bore the shape of upside down ‘U’. Trepidation rose and he got closer to his kneeling parents.
“Mom? Dad? What’s going on?”
They said nothing, just kept weeping and shaking their heads.
“Come on, don’t do this. Tell me what actually happened. I swear, I am not responsible for the condition my car is in. Look, I can prove-”
He cut his sentence midway as they ignored him and acknowledged the voice of a certain priest like person. They rose, turned about and walked together ahead.
A priest?
They stopped after walking for a while and looked down. The others mimicked the same. In a daze, he walked towards the place and pushed ahead of the crowd and looked at the thing that was the center of attention.
A white piece of cloth lay over a human figure and for a moment he thought that the person responsible for the crash of his car might be the one inside. He looked at his mother’s weeping eyes and his concerns for his sibling rose rapidly.
No, please tell me that’s not him.
The priest nodded and bent down. He lifted the cloth by its end and slowly, moved it so that the people had a better look at the body.
At first, he was relieved that it wasn’t his brother. The face was almost disfigured. Thrashed badly and it was clear to him that some effort had been done to put the mouth and teeth back in place. It had to be the wretched driver behind the wheels of his car. The mother wept more rigorously now and cried out loudly. It was his job as her son to comfort her and he moved towards her.
As he walked past, the body glinted. He glanced down at it and noticed that it had a locket hung around its neck. The locket had caught the sun’s glare. A nice, round locket that stayed perfectly still when compared to the chaos outside. It was attached to a thin, wiry silver chain.
He did a double take and immediately knelt down beside the body. He held the locket in his fingers and looked at it closely.
Now there are coincidences, a lot of them. For instance, when you say the same thing as the other person says at the same time. When you do the same thing and someone, far away does the same at the exact time. It’s entanglement, they say. So, he connected the pieces one by one in his head.
The locket, the shirt, the white streak in its hair, the pierced ear. This was no goddamned coincidence. It couldn’t be.
For he was looking at himself.
The locket slipped from his hand and fell down towards his dead body. His mouth hung open and all the outside noise reduced to a single frequency and kept diminishing until a low hum replaced it and things ran in slow motion. He did not blink. His breath stopped halfway between his lungs and throat.
He sat there. Kneeling down, till the crowd dispersed. Till his parents and the priest were the only people remaining. They spoke certain things he could not hear. He had stopped hearing a long time ago. Everyone nodded, and two people came towards his body and began lifting it, slowly.
This jerked him back to life and he scrambled up and yelled at the top of his voice, telling them to drop the body and waving his hands around like a possessed man. He looked at his parents, they slowly moved inside the house and locked the door. He yelled at them too, and went in after them. His body passed through the door and he paused halfway to see the effect it had on him. Half his torso was out and the other half was in. He got back out and ran, screaming and beating himself and commanding them to stop. His cries become laced with tears and his voice hoarse as the commands slowly became pleases and more and more pathetic. He ran after them. The effect of his actions on the bearers were nil. His running slowly came to a halt. He stood there, with his head bent low and his body trembling.
It soon started to rain. The bearers were out of sight. He ran back home and repeated the whole scenario again and again. He ran around the house, he tried touching his parents, he tried standing in front of them and waving his hands. He screamed and shouted and kicked at things. None of them ever paid any attention to his lifeless screams of agony.
During nightfall, he gave up as poignancy took over. An acrimonious feeling coupled with extreme poignancy. He hid himself inside his woodshed as the rain continued to pour outside. He looked at his hands. They emitted a soft, muted glow. Slowly, the incident of his crash came to his mind. The speed, the curves, the loss in balance.
His chest racked and he bent over and cried his heart out.
“I don’t want this. I DON’T FUCKING WANT THIS!”
“Neither, do we.”
The voices startled him. His head was full of them, somehow. He stopped crying and looked up. He got up and opened the door of his woodshed.
Faint, muted glows everywhere.
Translucent, wraith-like glows everywhere. Ten to his left, more to his right and ahead. They were everywhere. Slowly moving amongst the raindrops, aimlessly.
“Neither, do we. Neither do you.”
“No one wants this. No one.”
This is not fair. I can’t be dead
“No one escapes death. What makes you special?”
I-
“Death is the only fair event.”
I-
“Join us.”
Where to? What do I do?
“From here on, you’ll be in a state of permanent solitude. You’ll be in a state of perpetual melancholy.”
Acceptance would never wash over him.
“It’s just minutes to midnight now. You better get out of there.”
And do what? What will I ever be able to do?
“The same thing we all do. The same thing you’ll always do.”
“Watch your loved ones. Pray for them and watch them. For you’ll miss them.”
Dreadfully