Date: 13–01

Today was one tough day. I woke up a little late because I was exhausted from last night’s mess. I had already gotten 7 e-mails from three different sources with stories that wouldn’t even make it into a children’s storybook, and 4 missed calls… Sure Ganesh! The paper will definitely believe that you saw a levitating woman in front of your eyes at two am in the morning!

The Editor says that if I am even a minute late to today’s event cover, he’ll literally impale me.. So overall, super fresh and motivational start to the day! It was 9:30 AM, and I was 23 minutes late to work. I was hungry, tired, and over-caffeinated; because who doesn’t like to interview a 68 year old grumpy old hag who wants to criticize every aspect of the government’s new bridge projects!

At noon, I returned to the office; the Boss man sent me straight to the event cover of a lecture before I even opened my lunch… I was thrilled to skip lunch for the exciting history of marginal tax rates!

At 4 p.m., I had “snacks” with my chain-smoking colleagues and was forced to listen to them bitch about each other for half an hour; because a sleep deprived, nauseated, hungry person loves the stench of cigarettes. While I was breathing in the fumes of secondhand smoke, I seriously considered changing careers and becoming a hobo..

At 6 o’clock, I returned to my desk, sat down, and stared at the blank screen. The editor threw another file on my already cluttered desk demanding a 2000 word article on the benefits of Upcycled Food Farming on your rooftops. “Hey Boss, how’s this for the opening: Upcycled food farming on urban rooftops– airborne rats and minty fresh pollution are a great environment for house farming!” I said out loud — had to listen to the guy yelling for the next fifteen minutes… because working overtime for 72 hours is basically a vacation, right?

I spent the next hour Googling “how to write about things you know nothing about,” like I hadn’t learned enough of that in college. Meanwhile, my newbie colleague whined about how he’s been working nonstop all day while my stomach growled so loudly it sounded like a mild earthquake! I briefly considered just writing the article about “how to grow potatoes in a desk drawer.” But no, the editor would want facts. Actual facts.

Some time later, my phone chimed with a message from Mom– “Did you see the news? A woman was flying!” I stared at my phone for one good minute to let that sink in. Sometime later, I got an email from my editor- “Did you hear about the levitating woman? Get on that story. I want the full cover by midnight.” I couldn’t decide what’s worse– having to write about a ridiculous rooftop farming idea or this levitating woman.

I swear, if I have to write about another absurd story, I’m gonna quit and move my apartment to the train station. But hey, maybe tomorrow’s story will be about how humans are slowly evolving to have wings. Or maybe the angels are finally coming down to rescue Earth from another editorial disaster.

Note to self: Investigate urban farming, flying women, and whether hobos actually make a decent living. I may need a nap —or to poison the boss man.

I opened my eyes into nothing. There is no sound. Not even my breath. I don’t feel my body. There’s nothing around me.

Silence — in my breath- in my body-.. silence– everywhere. I see– I don’t! I see nothing– feel nothing.

Heart’s pounding. Can’t hear it. Sweat is pouring down my body. I don’t feel cold. Or hot. Or anything. I scream- but I hear nothing, my lungs are screaming, but I’m not even breathing– I’m breathing– but I don’t feel my breath.

Knees starting to fold, arms heavy– I have no feet, my shoulders are falling off. I dropped down– but there is no down. I fall on the floor– floor, floor, floor! No floor — where’s the floor!!?

I’m trapped in nothing but nothing is heavy, there’s no ground but I’m falling… It’s dark but I swear it’s watching me. Did I go deaf? Did I die?

I think I’m still alive… no way to be sure! Living — survival — instinct, but I have no instinct left! No sense — no feel — no body!! God.. God! What IS this?

“…It’s okay

Calm down…

Breathe…”

…Breath? Can’t breathe-

No air!

I’m choking — suffocating– throat closing around nothing! Silence is smothering — groping — strangling!!

Gasp- choke- try — try!! Try to breathe! Escape!!! RUN!

Run? Where? There’s nowhere to run.

…

Dot. Far. Tiny. Light?

Flicker of light! I lunge without thinking — I run.

Run.

Fall.

Fall? Where?

Now what? What should I do?

Punch. Kick. Get up! Up?-

…Doesn’t matter! Run! Into the light!!

Moth — flame — burn…. RUN!!!

I jump out. Fall down– but this time on the ground. Solid ground! I’m back. The world is real– big– loud!

Too loud! Too bright! Too much!

The air punches my chest– goes into my throat– fast! Acidic… wrong!

Taste of metal and the smell of rot crawl up from inside. Stomach heaves. Throat feels acrid–

Whatever that was buried inside comes out: raw, bitter, alive; Spilling everywhere.

…

It’s okay. I survived…

We were running up the stairs, huffing. Ravi had a box in his hand. The store owner was running behind us, yelling at us to stop, but we didn’t care. We were just focused on running away from him. Ravi slipped as we turned on the staircase. We reached the roof. We were out of room to run. Now, there was no other choice but to take a beating. So we stopped. Looked at each other — Ravi’s eyes sparkled with excitement. We laughed like idiots. It was hard to stop once we had started laughing. Ravi opened the laddoo box and handed me one. By the time the old man reached the top, we’d eaten at least 2–3 laddoos. We still couldn’t stop laughing. Seeing us laugh made the shopkeeper even angrier.

We went home with a sore back and a big grin on our faces. Strange how pain never seemed like a big deal back then. But now, even the air felt heavy.

The crowd picked up the pace again. The station clock tolled three. The sound of those tolls reminded me of the temple bells. I remembered the temple we used to play in. Every Sunday, at 4 o’clock, after the tuition ended. We used to walk to the dark temple and play hide n’ seek. I remembered this one time he hid above the Shivalinga, and no one could find him. He always found the strangest places to hide. Even then, it felt like he was going far away, hiding forever.

I was barely seeing my steps, lost in thought. My toe caught an uneven plane of the platform, sending me stumbling near a pole.

I sat up slowly and jabbed my head into my arms — hiding the tears running down my face.

I realised how insatiable I am. Spending time with him was never enough. And now, without him, the city outside was never going to be the same. When we were young, we’d built entire lives around each other. And now the rain had erased his name from the sand. I stood alone now, nobody sees me. I always lost myself with him. We didn’t think about the future… We didn’t care anyway! It felt like I was losing a part of me, sinking into an abyss.

I heard the engine whistle and looked up. He was waving at me from the window. He was smiling unnaturally. Maybe he was hiding his tears. So I wiped mine. And waved my hand too. Because I didn’t want him to see me breaking down. Not here, not like this. He had to go, and I had to let him. My tears would have only slowed him down.

The train started moving forward. I couldn’t stop looking at him as the distance between us stretched wider. All those carefree memories kept pulling my eyes toward him. The past was slipping further away, but it was the memories that would keep us together.

As the train pulled away, and with that, the carefree me started to disappear. But the memories, the laughter, the stupid risks we took, would stay with me. I held onto them tightly, hoping they wouldn’t slip away as easily as he had.

The train disappeared. My hand dropped. And with it, everything I was holding in.

“Wanna see something interesting?” the bearded man said. His voice was deep and resonant. Out of all the words I knew, he could only be described as majestic.

I leaned over the edge of the roof, beside the bearded man, and saw a young boy, his face stained with soot, running down the street — barefoot. He was stopping everyone on the street, desperately trying to communicate something.

“Let’s take a closer look,” God said.

We went down to see what was happening, but couldn’t hear a thing. The boy was frantically moving his arms up and down, making a wide gesture. He looked scared… eager to tell them something important. He held a man’s hand and cried, as if begging for help…

“Why won’t he say anything?” I asked.

“He would,” God answered, “if he could.”

We rushed down the street when the boy finally convinced two men to go with him. We followed them for a while. All the streets were empty. As we followed him on a big turn, we saw a house on fire a few blocks away. I took one look at the boy. I remembered the big gestures he was making. And finally, all meaning was clear.
I dashed inside the house to help, but felt a firm grip on my arm.

“Uh uh. We’re here to only observe.” God said.

Everyone else started to put out the fire.

The dark smoke went up and merged with the grey clouds in the sky, and rain started to hit the ground. I felt happy that maybe the fire would stop, so I looked towards the house, but the house was gone.

Instead, I was standing on the side of a big road. Everyone was in a hurry, going somewhere. A man in formals, walking with an umbrella and a suitcase, caught my eye.

“Let’s follow him,” God said.

The man was walking on a sidewalk, ignoring homeless people asking for money. Suddenly, a kid cut his way. He looked at him with hopeful eyes. His stomach growled loud enough to make the silence feel heavier. He paused, eyes soft with pity. The boy glanced back at a slumped figure…a man reeking of alcohol. The man looked at his father with disgust. Not long after we followed them, they entered a restaurant. The kid had a full meal, and the man paid for it. Even in his hasty manner, the man was kind. Even without words, his intent couldn’t have been clearer.

The condensation on the rainy window pulled the fog into the restaurant.

Now we stood in a crowded square. The silence of the situation was heavy on the ears: A man faced a furious crowd. His hands were raised, trembling. He tried to explain miming innocence, desperation, but the silence swallowed him whole.

He had once charmed the world with polished speeches. Now, without words, there was nothing to shield him from the truth. The crowd didn’t need to hear confessions. They already knew. No voice could save him.

Without a single word, the truth was still louder than silence.

The crowd blurred into shadows. Again, I stood beside God, looking at the golden sunset.

“You asked for honesty. This is what it costs!” God said.

I didn’t say anything… didn’t have to. It was all clear even without words.

I opened my eyes with a fright. The terrified voices crashed in my ears. They were screaming, sobbing, crying, begging, praying… that maybe soon this monstrosity of an age will finally end today, only for those voices to be ignored by the ones hiding in the clouds. The terrors of the war remained even after three long weeks. The food and water reserves were coming to an end. The medics were running out of supplies. No matter how hard my comrades had tried, a few civilians had gotten caught in the crossfire.

“SAARGE!” I heard a voice screaming at the top of its lungs from a distance. “SARGE!… SAAARGE!!”

“Reinstensky..” I recognised the voice. “Lieutenant! What’s wrong?”

“We found the sergeant,” he said, sobbing. My heart sank into my stomach seeing the lifeless body of a man I once looked at with admiration.

“Come on, we have to give him a proper burial… before the body starts to decay…,” I said while holding back my tears.

****

We were standing in four lines on each side of the lost war ground, with our hands on our hearts, praying for the souls of the ones we had lost. A depressing thought crossed my mind that many of my comrades, including me, would not survive until the dust in the air settles. I was scared, hungry, and I missed home. I missed being held in Sofie’s warm arms.
The Captain started saying his final words,

“Many of the brave souls I knew have fallen today.

The courageous fallen, the ones who were anguished for peace, and the ones

who were our brave warriors. Our brothers,

Who wore their cross through fire and steel, may your souls reach

the great gates of heaven and claim their rightful place in the hall of heroes.

May you find peace and solace in the arms of our lord, his most pure Mother, the holy angels, in a place of light, for eternity.

Vechnaya Pamyat.”

As the Captain’s final words faded into silence, the only sound that could be heard was the dry wind blowing. The silence in the air was putting pressure on my ears, and the wind blowing was giving me shivers — shivers from the cold, hard truth — there was no going home. I lowered my hand from my heart, realizing it was trembling. Reinstensky stood beside me, quiet and pale. He hadn’t said a word after we laid the Sergeant down. The Lieutenant, who was once a smiling face in my memory, now stood in silence, almost looking like a ghost.

I didn’t realise I had been standing in one place for too long until I saw the lamps near our torn, bloodied tents light up. The night had come, and it brought nightmares that haunted even the awake.

The dreading silence was broken by scavengers, both human and others, who had come in search of food. My mind was ringing, and I didn’t even try to stop them, out of pity.

I found a child, scared, sobbing. He had taken cover under broken metal pieces and torn tents, leaning over the body of his mother, a lady who lived in the deserted town.

Suddenly, the sound of boots crunching through the rubble broke our focus.

“CONTACT! NORTH WALL!”

We dove behind what little cover we had — fallen beams, charred crates, a broken vehicle that used to be a medical van. My heart pounded like a war drum. It wasn’t over. It was never over.

Gunfire tore through the air again. The screams returned. War didn’t care for burials or final prayers. It came back, uninvited and hungry. It came marching towards us, without stopping, cruelly.

And so, I stood once more. We all did. Not out of courage. But because there was no other choice…

I looked around. A bullet grazed my ear. Reinstensky was already firing back. I looked at my rifle… Three rounds left. Most of our men were standing. Some had given up. Some rookies were praying while holding their own. I took one glance at the kid clutching his mother’s coat. I wish I had something to give him. Something that would help. But I had nothing.

I looked in the sky and hoped that someone would hear us through some miracle. That our lives weren’t in vain. That someone would still keep fighting to give justice to the sacrifices of my brothers.

Maybe this last stand wouldn’t end in glory.. But maybe, just maybe, it would buy someone else a minute more.

I put the gun to my shoulder,

Took cover,

Took aim,

Pulled the trigger,

And Prayed.