In The Silence Of My Solitude - A Novel (Part 10)

                                                        14. Calm like a Bomb

Is Life a straight line? Look at yourself. Are you the same person whom you wanted to be? Watch your history. Tell me how many twists and turns it had. How many times you died? How many time you were reborn? If you die everyday, are you the same person? How many times you had molted your skin?

The desire for a straight line is nothing but the craving for security in life. Women craving for commitment and marriage with a rich 'settled' handsome young prince, Politicians and capitalists storing hundreds of crores in their bank accounts, people killing people for religious security, people exploiting people for monetary security, lover begging 'Please don't leave me' for emotional security, I ask --- Can we ever be secure in life?

Why is that underlying anxiety, resulting from that crave for security, driving our lives?

With that question in my mind, I woke-up from my sleep from some kind of unknown anxiety.

But, my mind didn't stop.All these preachings were nothing but my mind rationalizing, making up stuff, and making itself believe that it was in command.

When you preach, you feel better than others, as you need that security of feeling better than others. When dialogue reaches preaching, rationalizing reaches masturbation. What we found is the truth, isn't it? We want to share it to others, don't we?


Then I realized whatever the state of mind I had that day had gone, replaced by fearful state of mind.
Then my mind shifted to the topic in hand -- 'states of mind'.I was quite surprised at the way I was changing my states of mind.

What triggers these states of mind, what triggers these ups and downs? An idea? What idea? A doubt?

Then I realized that the fact that my mother went mental already opened a can of worms deep inside my mind, and all these thoughts were nothing but the stink emanating from that. So, the only way to solve that anxiety was to consciously pick up those worms all by myself, especially in that state of mind.

Doubts created that fearful state of mind, and that state of mind had limited options.

Okay. So, she had gone crazy, psychologically disturbed to be politically correct.
Then, what happened? She left the house.
Then it meant that, one : Most probably she didn't die.
Two : My Dad knew all about this as he was the one who took her to psychiatrist.

It meant that my Dad was somehow responsible for her leaving the house.
It also meant that the stories I heard as a kid about my mother were carefully edited fictional stories with fictional doubts.

Who else knew about this??

A desire to wake up my Dad and question him passed over me like a flash of light.

What if I am wrong?
What if I am asking wrong questions because of my state of mind?

I got up from the bed and started boxing in the air, and it did worked. It distracted my
vinayaka -- my mind.I didn't stop though. I boxed and jumped for more than 5 minutes till I was out of breath, and dropped onto the bed. I felt calm. Loved that calm. My mind was busy repairing some shit. How to describe that calm. I didn't know at that time, but -- It was -- Calm like a Bomb.

Time :  1 am.

Felt thirsty. Went to the kitchen. Opened the fridge.
The light inside the fridge illuminated my face. I stood there looking inside the fridge.
I felt something wrong in that scene. I didn't know if it was some animal evolutionary instinct, or something else, but I noticed that I was not alone in the kitchen.

I quickly turned my head toward the window. Someone was looking at me from the backyard outside the window. I noticed a thick hood just like yodas wear in star-wars movies, and it was illuminated by the full-moon light. I couldn't see the face though.

"Who is it?", I shouted with trembling voice. The instinctive fear already got me.
The figure quickly turned away, and disappeared.

"Who is it? Who is it?", I shouted on top of my voice.
My legs started trembling, and a rush of adrenaline hit me.

I picked a knife, opened the door, ran to the backyard.I noticed a figure, almost like midget, getting pulled up the wall by someone.

I ran towards that figure, shouting, " Who is it? Who is it?".

The moon was brightly lit, and shadows from the trees gave an eerie look to the backyard. As the midget got pulled up the wall, I had a clear look at him, not his face, but his body.Something was odd about that figure - he looked like a midget, but not a midget. Then, he jumped the wall, and disappeared.

I tried unsuccessfully to climb up the wall.

Then, I noticed my Dad running after me.

He shouted, "What happened? What are you doing?"
Gasping for breath, I tried to shout, "Someone was here. Someone was looking from that window".
"What!"
"Some one was here.Some one was here".
"Where?? I don't see anyone"
"I saw them. I saw them".
"Them? More than one?"
"I guess so."

Dad brought a stool and a torch light, climbed the wall, and searched for sometime. He found nothing.

He dragged me back to the Kitchen, made me sit in a chair opposite to him, gave me some water, and started asking questions.

I noticed some fear in him, but I was not sure if he was fearful about my behavior or about the incident.

He asked, " Now, tell me, What exactly did you see?"
"I just got up as I felt thirsty, came to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and noticed that someone was watching me, and when I looked, he....they ran, and when I ran to the backyard, I saw a midget climbing up the wall", I replied without stopping.

"A midget?"

"Yes, A midget, looked like a midget, but not a midget".

"What do you mean by that?"

"I don't know. He looked odd."

A couple of seconds of uncomfortable silence. The door to the backyard was still open, and I had clear view of the wall, illuminated by the moon.

" He got pulled by someone, I think.", I said as I turned towards the wall, pointing to it.

Then, I saw the hooded figure this time, climbing up the wall, pulled by someone.

I shouted, "There he is again!.He is climbing the wall!He is climbing the wall! He is on the wall! ".

The hooded figure jumped the wall before my dad could catch a glimpse of  him. It all happend in seconds.

"I don't see anyone", Dad shouted back.
"He just jumped", I shouted again.

He ran again to the wall.He again found no one.

By the time he came back, I was already trembling with fear.

"What did you see?", he asked.
"A hooded figure jumped over the wall"
"But, I didn't see anything".
"Thats because he jumped before you saw him", I screamed like a pig.

A couple more seconds of silence.

"You drank today?", he asked.
"No".

He came close to my face, and sniffed like a dog.

I didn't know what happened next, but I felt a sharp pain on my left cheek.

My dad slapped me.

"How dare you come to my house drinking like that. You shameless pig. Now, go to your room and sleep", He ordered.

I burned with anger and shame.

"Now, go to your room.What are you, a drunkard? What?? You saw a midget, and then, a hooded figure? Drink some more and you will see the devil himself. Idiot!Go and sleep. Or, you need one more".

I slowly got up, walked to my room, and then I stopped.

I turned back, and asked him, "Dad, What happened to mother?".

"What!", he tried to shout, but there was no vigor in it.

"What happened to mother?", I asked again.

"Whats happening to you today?", he asked incredulously. His face became paler.

He tried to regain the composure.But, it was too late. Both parties knew that they touched on a grave topic which was buried deep, almost for two decades. Both of us never dreamed that we would touch upon that topic ever again in our lives.

"You go and sleep. We will talk about it tomorrow", he said meekly.

"That means, you do have something new to say about her.", I got the upper hand.

"No. You are not feeling right today. You take rest. Get refreshed. We will talk tomorrow", he said unconvincingly.

I turned, walked a couple of steps, and then I turned back. I observed myself that I was unconsciously trying to make the scene very dramatic.

"Dad"
"What again?"
"Dad, Were you a football player?"
"What!!!", he said, stretching his facial muscles to max in order to express the max incredulity.
"Were you a football player? Had we had any footballs in the house when I was a kid?"
"What nonsense are you talking?"
"Just answer, Dad".
"No. I never played football.Never bought a football.No one in this town had any footballs in those days.", he answered with impatience.

 He continued, " Why are you asking about footballs?"
 "Nothing", I replied.

Couple of seconds of silence.

He asked, " Is that all?".
"Yes"
"Now, go and sleep", he said, and waited there till I closed my room's door.

I laid down on the bed, looking at the ceiling.
To my surprise, I was very calm. Was it the slap? Did the anger ate way the fear?

I looked at the spider web on the ceiling. A victim struggled in the web. The spider ran towards it with glee.

I muttered, " Yes. Life is a straight line. As straight as the lines in the spider's web".

Continued here..