The only presence I wake up with is my glacial, grey sheets, dressed in splatters of white, and my dried bag of flesh and bones. The mere sight of food makes me wants to rip my stomach off and crush it with my bare, bony hands, so I nourish myself with nicotine. It dries the tears faster. My head is like a disorganized symphonic orchestra; only replace all instruments with punches of steel. It takes my feet a long time to reach the floor. It’s so meticulously clean that my feet became ice skating blades. I look at my closed door with empty eyes, asking myself how I’m going to open it. Do I want to open it, though? The ground’s grueling hands imprison both of my feet, paralyzing any attempt to move a single muscle. I’m not fighting it, I let my feet drown in it until it reaches my chest, my neck, my hair…

My cell phone rings: it’s Celia. She always calls me in the morning to ask if I want to go shopping with her or to that restaurant where we would often go, whether it be occasional or simply because we wanted to sit around a table dressed with mouthwatering food that would bring a smile to both our stomachs.

“Celia, you know what I’m going to answer. What do you not understand when I say “Don’t call me”?”, I responded with exasperation.

The only response I receive is Celia’s silence and an enduring sigh followed by: “What the f**k are you doing to yourself? Listen, I may not be in your position but all I can say is this: if you keep locking yourself from everything you will bring yourself to your own fall and I won’t be there to help you. It’s your fucking life we’re talking about, so please, I beg of you, don’t die.” She hangs up.

I put the phone down and quietly stare at it. It’s curious how people close to you function:they want the best for you, they want you to be happy, they want you to keep moving on, and enjoy life and all its beauty and whatnot. They especially want to hear “I have to get my sh** together”. See, in this sentence there’s already a problem: it’s the verb “have”. And people, Celia included, expect that just because they love you and you love them back, you OWE them this: to stop focusing on “negativity”.

I can’t stop focusing on this. I don’t want to stop. A part of me thought of calling her back to apologize and make an effort and another just wants to scream that I couldn’t care less if she wants me to be happy. The reason why I’m not offering her my smile is because I can’t form one any longer. “You seem pretty gloomy these days, it’s been a while now”.

A while.

A fu**ing. while.

She doesn’t understand. She can hear, but she doesn’t listen.

So I didn’t call. After all, who wants to spend a day with a dead body? Because this is what I am now in the shadow of his agonizing absence.

I don’t want him to be at peace.“His spirit and love will always be here within us”. WHERE IS THIS LOVE? I can’t feel it, I can’t touch it. All I hear is the sound of glass shattering to the ground, every single day. All I feel is my stomach growing heavier as the days go by.

When a fragment of your heart is burned to the ground, who wants to live on with the remaining, stabbing flames?

“He is in a better place now”

“Do you think he would want to see you in such a state?”

“Think about the happy moments you two shared together”

“You are a strong woman, you’ll get through this”

Shut up.

…

Doesn’t this one book describe it as being the place of “no mores”? All those feelings, that would twist these knives in our soul, heart and body in a dangerously slow process, will evaporate the second we step into Heaven? Isn’t it also where the soul can no longer be tormented by the daily struggles we faced and rest peacefully? Possibly. See, the truth is that I don’t want him to be at peace, I don’t. I want to feel the warmth of his body wrapped into mine; his delicate, translucent hands caressing my hair as though it were silk; I want to laugh until my stomach explodes with him, cry whenever I need to…

My cell phone didn’t ring this morning. Good.

But for the first time, I walked out of my room and my eyes stared into my living room with bewilderment. I had forgotten how it felt to be serene. You would be surprised at how much peace this wind could bring me. I look at the emerald-colored vase my mom bought me for my birthday, and found it decorated with flowers: snow roses smiling at me, with its flakes falling down on the kitchen counter. I pitch in the vase and carefully place the rose on my heart.

The cemetery was as dusty as my heart was, the freezing wind scratching my skin and an army of gray souls crying.

As isolated as I thought I was, she was standing there.

She was standing still, right in the gap between the grave and I. She wore a long black cottoned jacket that reached her bare, almost transparent-looking muscular calf, leaving her sculptured ankle alone to breathe. Her skin was so pale it seemed as if cold had never left her body. The longer you looked at her, the more you could see the cheekbones almost crawling out of her face. When you looked into her eyes deep enough you could see an ocean of misty blue with a glimpse of thunder, woven as one. Her lips were drawn with a brush of dusty grey, as if death had made its last touch by sealing it with a kiss. Although it was attached, her ebony hair was falling out like autumn leaves. The jacket made her look like a condemned bird inside a cage shedding tears of desperation. I tried not to twiddle my thumbs, nor nervously bite the right corner of my lip. Silence was creeping in as the wind was dangerously hissing through my ears almost digging out any form of sound from it.

****! My heart incinerates as I grasp it harder. I closed my eyes so violently I thought I was going to shed tears of blood, every single inch of my organs grew heavier, harder, almost melting as my body closes on itself. Within seconds, I brutally fall on the ground almost breaking my wrist. My heart was in my mouth as I faintly scream while my burning hot tears drown my face. My agonizing body was entrapped in the hardened, glacial stony ground, every single organ was deaf to the desperate messages my brain was sending them. Vocal chords were on the edge of absolute explosion as my body was emptying out my tears. I was only capable of letting out a faint, infant animal cry. The burn spread all over my body, giving birth to this shrieking, monstrous pain. I couldn’t move an inch, nor could I even twitch my eye, fearing that any micro movement could lead my body to be skinned with agony.

She approaches my crooked body as darkness penetrates, violates it. My head was too heavy to lift up; I was blinded by my overflowing tears and deafened by the silence of my cry. I cannot hear a thing, if not the erring sound of a knife slowly, sensually slicing my chest. I surprisingly feel cold yet soothing hands touching my shoulders before caressing my jaws. She delicately lifts up my drenched face and I feel her gentle lips pressed against my disgusting, glowing forehead. I hear her inhale deeply, my heart soothes little by little as she freshly blows on my face. My tears disappear, the burns are washed away by the lyrical sound of this breeze, I timidly open my eyelids. To my surprise, the woman is now crystal-white almost blinding. Her delicious warmth and love progressively enters my body as it embraces me.

For the first time in a long time, I found myself breathing. And held myself in my arms, not out of pity. Because I wanted to. My bloodied knees and hands weren’t screaming of pain anymore, my blood stopped boiling, it was as quiet as the morning sea.

I turn my head towards the grave on which was engraved: Hey Jude, don’t make it bad, take a sad song and make it better. I draw a smile on my face while reading and as the woman gracefully dances its way towards the entrance of the cemetery, I look up to the sky. And all I see is an ocean of smiling clouds that dance their way up to the dazzling stars.

Knowing very well that Chandni was affected with heart problems, great care was taken to break the news of her husband, Slok’s death as softly as possible by her sister Naina. Naina uttered the news in broken sentences, camouflaging the hints in a half concealed manner.

“Chandni, you know what, be calm and brave my dear little sis, Slok is not in our midst now,” told Naina, hugging her sister tightly.

Nitin, Chandni’s husband’s friend, the bearer of this tragic news was also there trying to console and provide support to Chandni. News of an accident which had happened in the wee hours of today morning near the outskirts of Pune was flashed as breaking news over the TV a couple of hours ago. Slok’s name was seen at the top of the list of those ‘killed’ in the accident. Shocked on seeing the news it was Nitin who had gone to the nearby Newspaper office to doubly confirm the news. He hurried to prevent any less considerate and less assiduous friend to be the bearer of this sad message to Chandni, for whom he had a special sisterly affection.

Chandni did not receive the news as did several other women with an immobilized inability to accept its gravity. “No, not my Slok,” so saying Chandni broke down at once, with instantaneous and wild abandonment in Naina’s arms. With the storm of grief having subsided gradually, Chandni slowly climbed the stairs leading to her room, and it was clear from her body language that she would be liked to be left alone and have no one follow her.

” Please leave me alone,” she implored; and burst our suddenly, “Why has this happened to me, Oh my God!”

She stood there in her room, staring at the wide open window and sank into a wide and comfortable roomy single sofa. Chandni appeared fully drained and held down by immense mental and physical fatigue that captivated her body that seemed to engulf her soul as well. She was motionless except when a sob escaped her throat and shook her violently. She looked like a child who cries itself uncontrollably when put the child to sleep and continues this sobbing in its dreams too.

All of a sudden Chandni arose as though awakened from a bad dream. She could feel the delicious breath of rain that was pervading the atmosphere. In the Patel Street just opposite her house she could hear a peddler announcing his wares for sale at the top of his shrill voice. The notes of a popular Hindi song of the 1960s which someone was singing reached her ears somewhat faintly. “Oh, I can now hear my favourite Lataji’s song wading through the air” thought she. Hearing countless birds chirping in the nearby patch of shady trees, she felt a bit calm and composed. Through the large window could be seen patches of blue sky scattered here and there wafting through the passing clouds.

Chandni, the young fair lady was one who wore a calm face, the lines of which bespoke suppression and some toughness as well. The face had a different expression now as there was this dull stare that shown in her eyes, whose gaze was concentrated far away towards one of the patches in the clear blue sky. It was not a glance of reflection, but rather indicated a suspension of astute and brilliant thought.

Her intuition could sense something coming towards her and she waited for it with abated breath. What could it be? She just could not understand. She did not know; it was too indistinctive and evasive to define. But she could feel it creeping through the sky, coming towards her through the various sounds; fragrances and colours which engulfed the air. Her chest rose and fell vociferously. She started becoming conscious of the unknown that was advancing towards her to take control of her and she strived hard to resist this force with her resolve, which proved to be as vulnerable as her two white lean hands.

Finally when she abandoned herself, a small whisper word escaped her somewhat parted lips. She repeatedly pronounced the word in a soft tone: “I am free, free, free!”

The empty stare and the terrified look that had followed it disappeared from her eyes and they appeared to be bright and zestful now. She could hear her pulse beating fast and the blood racing through her body which warmed and eased her entire body. She did not once question herself as to whether or not it was this beastly joy which held her! A plain and rhapsodic perception made her dismiss this suggestion as insignificant.

Yes, she was totally aware that she would weep and break down once she sees the masculine hands of Slok folded in death; the face that had never glanced, save with loving and tender eyes, but which many a time cast a gray and dead stare at her . But beyond all this disgruntled moment, she could visualize a long procession of future years that would be solely hers. With open arms she was all set to welcome this freedom which she felt was missing during her years wedded to Slok. Yes she would just live for herself in the years to come. It was a strange feeling of apprehension and joy and she felt butterflies in her stomach. This intention of hers, whether kind or cruel made the act look no less a crime as she looked at it in that brief moment of luminescence.

There would be no powerful imposing authority above her in that blind obstinacy with which women and men believe they have a private legal entitlement to impose upon their spouses. But, yet it could not be said that she did not love him- yes at times! It was a love and hate relationship between them. It did not matter much now! What could this feeling of love, the baffled mystery be, when compared to this custodian of self-declaration which she suddenly realized as the strongest urge of hers at the present moment!

“I am born free again! My body and soul are free!” she kept repeating in a hushed tone.

On the other side of the room’s closed door, Naina was banging the door and kneeling, with her lips pressed against the keyhole, begging Chandni to open the door and let her in. ” Chandni, my dear sister, please open the door , I beg of you little sis of mine, we want to see you. Please listen to me, we are here for you. You are our little princess. Don’t torture yourself. We are worried. What is it that you are doing Chandni Gudiya? Please, please, we want to see you. For heaven’s sake open the door and let us in.”

“Go away, Naina Didi. Don’t you worry about me. I am not going to harm myself. Be rest assured”. Her thoughts were running riot. “How will Naina ever understand me? Nobody can guess my feelings now. Here I am drinking in the elixir of life and enjoying my new found freedom through the wide open window gazing at the wonderful azure sky.”

Soon her mind started racing uncontrollably over those days that were yet to come. Rainy days, summer days and winter days and all other types of days would be hers and hers alone. She uttered a quick prayer asking God to grant her a very long life. It was just yesterday that she thought with a shiver about the long life which she might have to live with Slok.

Chandni stood up at length and opened the door hearing her sister’s entreaties which became louder and louder. Her eyes displayed a maniacal triumph, and she carried herself involuntarily like Nike, the goddess of Victory in Greek mythology. She wrapped her hands around her sister’s waist and fully leaning against Naina, both the sisters gradually descended the staircase. Nitin stood at the bottom of the staircase, totally disturbed and devastated by the recent happenings.

Suddenly everyone turned their gaze towards the door. Someone was trying to open the main front door with a latch key. “Who could it be? Perhaps Slok’s parents or some close friend.” thought they. Behold what a sight!

It was Slok who entered the house, in a crumpled T-shirt and a somewhat soiled pant. Carrying his small suitcase and an umbrella, he looked travel-stained and had obviously missed the bus by a few minutes as the auto-rickshaw in which he was travelling to catch his bus was held in heavy traffic and could not make it on time to board the bus. He looked dazed and totally unaware of the tragedy which had stuck the bus which he was supposed to have boarded. He was far from the scene of the accident, and totally clueless about the tragic happening. He stood bewildered and amazed on hearing Naina’s ear piercing cry; and at Nitin’s shocked look, Chandni’s eyes met with that of Slok’s and suddenly she collapsed and was rushed to the nearby hospital.

On admission she was pronounced DEAD due to cardiac arrest. Why? Is it due to the crashing of her future dreams or the beginning of her bad times once again or is it something else-sudden joy that proved to be a killer! It is left to the reader’s imagination!