I thought to share a tiny bit of a short story that I was working on last April, but couldn't continue. I haven't found any more ideas or motivation to continue it yet. No dreams, no scenes flashing in my mind, no hints, no twists to introduce, nothing. I just know the start and end of the story, have it etched and well defined in my mind, but can't seem to take the characters from this end to that end. The journey intimidates me somehow. Hoping to get inspired by dear bloggers to complete this one, by this year.
So here it is:
I had a dream yesterday. A very weird one. I was climbing up the stairs, that kept on spiraling up, higher and higher, never ending. It was an uncanny feeling. I woke up with a start, my heart beating loud and clear. My roommate had switched off the fan, and I was already sweaty. I got up, switched it back on, had a glass of water and sat on my bed thinking what to do. Going back to sleep was impossible.
I checked the time. It was 3:45 am. Still so many hours remained till morning. I unlocked my phone to go through any chats or emails. Possibly someone would be online now on facebook. Or else I would just read through blogs.
A mail from Neeti. No, two emails. Long.
I clicked on the first one.
I think I’m in trouble. It’s just a feeling that is eating me away.
A few days back I found a fly in my cup of tea. It was very hot, and of course, it had died. Perhaps it had committed suicide. I stared at it about five minutes thinking what to do, pour it away in the wash basin, or sieve out the fly and drink the tea. It was a confusing scenario, I must say. A tough decision. But by the time I decided what to do, the tea was already cold. Nevertheless, I scooped the carcass out carefully, washed it away in the basin, murmuring a little prayer, and sat down to finally drink my tea. I took a mouthful, much more than a sip. It had a dull taste to it. A different, bitter savory taste, like.., I’m not getting the right word, like death. Yes, it tasted like death.
You must try it too if you are curious about death. Well, I am. I have been curious about it since the past few days. It’s interesting. I have also tried to do a bit of research about it. It’s too engaging and demanding a topic to focus on my FAs. Now, coming to think about it, I have my FAs in less than a week, and I have prepared nothing. I’m in big trouble.
I am not able to concentrate on my lectures, sessions, classes- whatever you term them. They are boring. I drowse in the day and am super alert during the night. I don’t know what the real cause for this role reversal is. The minute I am alone in my dorm, my mind bursts with ideas. I note them down to prevent my brain from exploding, I scribble it all incessantly. And when I try to sleep, the sun’s already up. I just can’t understand how in the world I’m spending hour’s just writing, making highlights, doodles, sketches, jottings and network of lines in my diary. Time seems to pass in a jiffy. I’m in trouble, a big way.
I guess I have insomnia, or perhaps it’s hyper-alertness disorder if there’s something like that at all. I’ll research about it and let you know, don’t worry. Don’t waste your time researching about it. Tomorrow. I’ll google it the first thing tomorrow after I reach the classroom.
I hate the classes. I used to like them in the beginning, especially during the Generics, but Streams are really boring. I used to sit in the third row in the first week, but then a very willing classmate sitting in the very last row agreed to swap seats with me. I couldn’t be happier. Ever since, I go to the class, make a few notes of the presentations of lessons, and then sleep big time after lunch break while the rest of the class slogged through their assignments. My sleep has perhaps run away from my dorm to reside in the classroom no 73. The case was same for everyone sitting in the last row, and a few tactful drowsers in the middle rows. My sleep must have befriended their sleep. But then, on a serious note, I may fail in my FAs. I have only two attempts. I don’t want to be terminated. Shoot! That’s a big trouble.
I’ll study, don’t you worry. I will. I will. I’ll do. I’ll find a solution to my condition, a remedy, and I’ll devout time to serious preparation for the exams. I’ll make do. Somehow.
The mail left me confused, agitated. This was not Neeti. She never ever was like this, rather a complete opposite of whatever she has described her days in Mysore. Ever since I have known her, which is more that fifteen years, she has always gone to bed before ten and woke up before six. There was no one more punctual and disciplined than her. And about lectures- she never ever missed a lecture, let alone drowse during one. As per her ideals, drowsing during a class was disrespect to the teachers, and she was a staunch upholder of ideals. Never did her values waver, or behavior change, even during the most demanding of times. Except now.
I needed to know more. I decided to call her the next day and clicked on the other mail. This one was longer. Neeti liked her emails long, descriptive and detailed. I liked it long, condition it’s from her, else my attention span was small.
I forgot to tell you the most important thing. I have colored my hair white.
I needed a glass of water before continuing.