Wednesday, February 4, 2009

ViewFinder.

I see a hole in the wall. I place an eye on it. For a few seconds I see nothing. My eye lashes flutter for a second, my eye ball adjusts for another and then I see.

It is a room like any other, but a thick cloud of smoke engulfs one area. I see the silhouette of a what looks like a boy. He makes his way out and stands in the middle with his hands on his hips. He looks around for a minute, shakes his head, runs his fingers through his hair and resumes his position. All this while, his back was towards me.

He turned around, he looked vaguely familiar. He came towards the wall and looked upwards. He ran his hands across the wall in a running motion from the left of the hole upwards. Not once did he stop at the hole. He did that once more, and then went back to the exact spot he had stood before.

This time, he looked up to the ceiling. I think he saw an insect, for I could see him moving his head in odd directions. Soon he got tired, and squatted himself on the floor. He sat for a long time, mumbling to himself. Giggling at times. Drawing circles on the dusty floor and finally, tired of all of it, he quietly crouched himself and slept.

I got tired of peeking through the hole and decided to walk away. I did. But the image of the sleeping boy wouldn't leave my head. After a few hours, I went back to the wall. I peeped through and I saw him again, his back to me, sitting in that exact same spot. I reckon in the same position too. He was talking to himself. Angry. It seemed as if he had a lot to get out of his system. He screamed real loud this on time. I shuddered. And then he was silent. I couldn't even hear him breathe any more. And then suddenly, he sniffed. Before I knew it, he was crying like a new born baby.

Baffled, I bellowed through the hole,
"Hello! Turn around. Look towards the wall, into the hole"

His crying stopped almost immediately and he raptly turned around. His eyes was blotched, he cleaned his nose like a dirty 5 year old boy, and looked around trying to locate the source of the voice.

"The hole in the wall.", I repeated.

He spotted the hole, and ran his fingers by it.

"Talk to me.", I said.

He settled himself next to the hole, resting his head on the wall, cleaned his face and said,

"I thought you'd never talk to me."

Perplexed, I asked him what he had meant.

I think it was a smile that I saw just then, he said,

"I knew all along you were watching me. I just hoped you would talk to me."
"I have been waiting a long time, you know."

I don't remember saying anything. All I could hear was an incessant banter that went on in my head. I pushed it all to one side and asked him:

"Do yo even know who I am?"

The corners of his lips twisted, he said:

"Of course I do. You're the girl, who cries every night and sings the most soulful song one would ever hear. You scratch the insides of your hands and stay hidden behind your tuft of hair just so that people don't see your swollen eyes.
You look at your phone every second minute hoping it would ring and when you realize it wouldn't you just turn it to silent mode and throw it away. Some days you jump into bed and talk to yourself. Making plans about the future. Playing scenes and conversations.
I know you."

I couldn't believe my ears. Who was he? He knew things that nobody but I did. I was scared.
"Don't hurt me.", I quivered.


He got up from his place and turned towards me. He placed his hand next to the hole, looked me straight in the one eye and said:
"I could kill you with all that I know, but I like the look on your face when you suffer."
"Do you want to know why I cried?... I couldn't take it myself. Knowing so much."

"Do me a favor, fix the hole in your wall."


.____________________________.


For the most part, I know who he was.

My farishta.

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