Saturday, 27 June 2015

THUD, THULP

The thud of rain hitting the red terracotta roof, trickling down the crevices of each red tile and the soft thulp as the rain disrupts the surface of a growing mud and moss puddle, interrupts my holiday reading. I run to my bedroom window and watch as a trickle of rain seems to form a bridge between my roof and the green mossy ground.  A cool breeze grazes the skin on my face and I really  want to drop my "To Kill A Mockingbird ", run out into the rain and dance to its music. An old wooden window in the corridor,  creaks and slams shut. Like a signal, I hear my grandmother yell from upstairs, telling me to close all the windows downstairs. I quickly walk out to the corridor, to the window and put its old metal latch in place. 
The door is just beside the window. I stand on the doorstep and watch the rain form puddles in the soil. I watch as it rolls off the leaves of my grandmothers precious rose shrubs.' She won't need to water them today',  I think to myself and smile. Another gush of wind and a spray of cool water hits my face and arms and I finally decide to go play in the rain. Ironically,  I hear my grandmother telling me not to go out in the rain because I will fall sick. The rebel in me ignores everything she said and I kicked off my old slippers and ran. 
It only took a few seconds for my clothes to get soaked. The cotton clung to my torso and every hair on my arms stood up. With every step, my feet sunk into the wet mud and the smell of wet grass hit me harder. Before I knew it, I was dancing in the rain, to a tune that I made up. 
Almost like a distant dream, I hear my grandmother yell for me. I ignore it. Her screaming gets louder and I hear the wooden door creak as she stands on its step. 

Saturday, 20 June 2015

AN UNFOLDING

The huge bathtub, filled with water and foam, reminded her of Dumbledore’s Pensive. As she approached the tub, she remembered how Harry had felt fear and nervousness as he approached it. The only difference was that she was not nervous, just happy and calm. Maansi stepped into the warm foamy water. For a few seconds, there was only clear water around her shins and then the foamy water came floating back, in an attempt to regain their previous state of calm. Then on realizing that there was an obstruction, it climbed upwards, creating a tiny strip of bubbles on her shin, just above the water level. For the next minute, the bubbles on the water were in complete unrest as Maansi slid her body slowly and fully into the water. Another minute and her whole body was blanketed with popping bubbles. 
As she palmed a little bit of the foam and blew it off her hands, she thought of a picture that she had found earlier. It was dated 15th of September and was a picture of her as a baby. She was 12 days old, and her mum was carrying her in one hand. The baby’s body was partially immersed in water, surrounded with soap bubbles, just like she was now. Apparently she had always enjoyed water because her baby self seemed to be smiling just like she was now. Maansi realized that she had a lot of such photographs. She made a mental note to buy a photo album and save all the pictures. She shook her head as she thought of the fact that photo albums were such an old school thing in this age of digitization. Yet nothing could beat the pure joy of turning a page f the album and laughing at the memories.
A big bubble that popped in the bathtub brought Maansi back to the present. She took the eucalyptus soap and began to slowly rub her arms. The smell brought back memories. Her school in the Nilgiris had a huge campus that was abundant with eucalyptus trees. So, many years at the school had made the smell of eucalyptus almost a symbol of home to her. It brought a smile to her face as she realized that she actually missed school. So many people that made her feel like she belonged. So many memories that words could not describe and time could not erase. The trees, the air, sky and the earth, all in perfect unison. Nothing could take away the joy it brought her when she thought of school. 
The smell of the soap, the warm water and the gush of memories sent her into a spiral of happiness. The water began clearing up and she could see more of her self under it. It was time. She got out of her tub, wiped herself and then put on her clothes. She was going to stay home so she wore an old black T – Shirt and shorts. Cream was lathered, hair was combed and a mug of hot coffee was made. 
She had a lot of work to do. Well she couldn't really call it work because she loved it. She was a content writer for an online magazine. She wrote a lot about food and restaurants and every experience was better than the previous one. Just recently, she was sent on an assignment to try a Lebanese restaurant. The freshness in their food was a taste to remember. She had taken her time to taste and relish the food and now articles had to be written and deadlines had to be met. She hoped that one day, maybe in another ten years or so, she would become the Editor of the same magazine or maybe start one of her own. That was her dream. She typed into her laptop and smiled. It was the smile that dreams brought about. The smile of hope.

COLD

The floor under me is really cold. My eyes open a crack and are blinded by bright light in front of me. I shut them, wait a few seconds and open them again. It takes time getting used to. I look around and it seems to be a corridor. How did I get on the floor and more importantly, where am I? I realize with the utmost horror that I can’t remember anything.  Everything is really fuzzy. I am a little scared. I try to move my legs but they seem frigid and numb. A frosty numbness. I bend my legs and try to get up. A throbbing pain shoots up my right leg. I scream. My leg hits the floor with a soft thud, and the numbness goes away. A few minutes. Then I try it again. The same pain shoots up my right leg again. Another scream and there is another soft thud. Come on Rachel. You can do this. Come on. You cant stay on the floor forever. I realize then with ta smile that I remember certain things. My name is Rachel Garcia and I am from New York. I work as a teacher in an elementary school. I am married to Jonathan Garcia and have two beautiful children – Brian and Brittany. But I still don’t remember where I am and how I got there. I have to get up. One last time, I bend my knees and try to put as little pressure on my right leg as I could. The almost too familiar pain regains strength but I push through. It is very difficult and almost brings me to tears but I finally manage to get up with the help of the wall. The wall feels cold. It is a very wintry cold and reminds me of snow and Christmas. It makes me smile a bit but I am immediately reminded off what situation I am in. I start to scream for help. No response. I hear movement behind me. I turn around and I see a door just a few steps ahead of me. It’s just a few feet Rachel. You can do it. Take it one step at a time. I take one step and I hear a little squelch. I look on the floor and there is blood. Red instead of the white floor that should have been there. The realization that it is my blood comes crawling in. I lean on the wall as I run my hands up my back and I feel a wetness down my back. My wet shirt feels cold on and a chilly wave of fear runs down my spine. I know I need help and the only way I can get it is by getting through that door. One painful step at a time and I get there. I lean on the door2 and let out a sigh of relief. The door handle seems cold too and I realize that everything around me is cold. 
There are people everywhere. People in white coats seem to be running. A kid on my right is sneezing. His mother wiping his nose with a tissue. Its a hospital. What luck? I’m in a hospital. Now all I need is to find somebody to help me. A nurse is coming towards me. "Hey lady, I‘m hurt. There is blood on my back. I think I was unconscious because I have no memory of what happenned before. I just found myself on the floor there. Hey,can you...". She walks straight past me. Maybe she didn't hear me. Its okay. There are a lot of nurses in a hospital. Lets find another one. Another nurse comes from the left. "Hey nurse. Can you help me. I’m injur..." . And just like the first nurse, she has walked past me too. The nurses here are really mean. Once I get out of here, I’m going to sue them for not doing their job. They are all acting like I don't exist. I'm going to find a doctor. 
I look around, anger seeping through my calmness. Every touch of the wall seems icy. Every eye that’s on me, cold and forbidding. Then, ahead of me, I see a familiar shirt moving. I realize that it is my husband and he has brought both of our children. I start screaming out for them. I realize that I don't know why they are here but i continue to scream. They don’t hear me. I take a few steps, ignoring the pain that feels like it could cripple me. I keep walking, one step at a time. Seeing my husband and children seems to have had a positive effect on me and I find it a little easier to ignore the pain. I try and pick up my pace, all the while screaming and trying to not lose sight of my husband. 
They turn into a room on the left. I pick up my pace a little more. When I reach the door of the room I breathe a sigh of relief. I look into the room. Somebody is lying on a hospital bed but I can’t see who it is.  There are doctors and nurses around the bed and my husband and children are around it too. I notice that my husband is crying. Oh no. is somebody is sick? Has his father’s cancer returned? I realize that while Jonathan and Brittany are crying, Brian seems to be looking around. His eyes go over the whole room and finally fall on me. He smiles and says, “mommy!” I call out for him and he starts tugging at his father’s hand. 
Jonathan says, “Brian, yes it is mommy. But everything is going to be alright.” 
Brian continues to tug and I find myself wondering why Jon is not letting him go when I am right here.
Brian is still saying, “Mommy, mommy. She is here.”
Jon says “Yes son, she is here....” and Brian pulls away.
I want to take another step but all that walking has exhausted all my energy and I just leaned on the frame of the door. Then I start calling Jon as well but he doesn't respond. 
I hear Jon say, “Brian, where are you going?  Don’t you want to see your mother for one last time? Brian, don’t run away from me…” as Brian runs to me and his hand goes straight through my stomach.
Over the crying and screaming, I hear Jon say, “Brian, she is dead.”