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Driffi's Blog

How i look at life

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Short stories

A little collection of my short stories

Walking in the Darkness

As he sat in his reading chair; the light from the window opposite the reading table shone directly into his eyes; blinding him out for a moment. He raised his hand to cover his eyes but then something happened. He began staring into the deep sun light.

Then he fanatically began scrolling and searching through his drawers. There were papers and old books all dusky, he scrolled through them frantically to find something; papers falling on the table, books peeping out of the half closed drawers. Then he sat down on the floor frantically looking at the papers as if trying to find something. But there was nothing there. He gave out a loud sigh and began looking at his wrinkled hand. “I am old aren’t I” he questioned himself. And then started to rub his hands over his face; as if trying to feel the wrinkles or trying to recognize himself? But this didn’t satisfy him.

He got up and began to rush but then he looked at the room. On the front wall was a huge portrait; he couldn’t recall of whose. There was an old Victorian pair of chairs placed below the portrait and next to it was the door. It opened into the terrace where there were two plastic chairs and a table and lots of potted plants. The weather seemed fresh and he could feel cool breeze on his face. He looked around to find another door and there it was on the second wall; closed. He went up to the door; placed his hand on the knob but didn’t seem to open it. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t open it. Was it locked? What was with the door? He sat on the floor again looking with pale eyes at the door; like a little child unable to open a lock.

There was a little mirror on a table besides the door; he picked it up and began staring into it strangely; there was an old man in the mirror with wrinkled skin, hazel brown eyes and white hair. He stared for a long time as if he didn’t know who the person was in the mirror.

He reclined his back to the wall and began staring into the space. Don’t know how long he stayed like this when he heard a knock on the door with someone saying “Baba are you in there?”. He didn’t respond; “Who is Baba” he wondered?

And then a 15 year old boy opened the door and entered the room and began talking to this old man “Baba you are here; God Ammi is looking all over the place for you; here take my hand; what are you doing on the floor?”

And the boy handed over his hand to the old fellow; to help him get up. But the old fellow still didn’t respond; as the boy’s hand touched him, he gave out a little expression of uneasiness and then stood up.

“ Baba you are alright na” the boy asked again and the old man responded in a very unsure way “ye..yes”

“Why didn’t you come out then instead of sitting on the floor”

“The door…. I couldn’t open the door, how do we open these doors?”

And Ali knew what had happened.

“See Baba you hold the knob and turn it right”, did you get it?. “Oh ok ye..yes I get it”

Then The Old man began looking strangely at Ali.

“Baba; you do recognize me don’t you? I’ m Ali, your Son”.

“Of…Ofcourse I recognize you; how can I forget my son?”; and he held Ali’s Hand; still seeming unsure of the whole situation.

The young boy took him into the lounge and helped him settle on the table where lunch was served. The Old man settled and looked into Ali’s eyes as if unsure why he was brought here. Ali nodded as if trying to say don’t worry I’m coming and walked into the kitchen;

“Ammi, Baba is here, please come so we all can have lunch”

“Oh yes where was your baba? I was looking all over for him?”

“He was in the study; don’t worry hes here now”

“He is alright na?” his mom looked into his eyes questioningly?.

“Oh yes ammi come on; he’s absolutely fine, you women are always freaked out”

And his mother gave him a queer look.

But deep down inside he knew he wasn’t alright.

“Time has come when he has begun forgetting usual daily chores; time has come when he has begun forgetting his own family. Time is quiet near when he’ll even forget how to eat or drink and Ammi needs to be very strong for that time”; thought Ali as he looked at his mother happily making fresh chapatis for his father. Then he turned back to look at baba; who was busy making sketchs on the table with the fork.

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Just Another Place

She was walking by the port… Port Grant to be specific. Everyone around her seemed to love the place, their eyes filled with sparkle. They were happy to see their city being lit up again with lights, with people all around. She stood there staring blankly into the water; into the drowning sun. She did not belong here. Life had taken her to almost 5 cities since her childhood and around 8 different schools. She was never able to maintain a sustained friendship because she was never there for long. The moment the bonds turned strong; she was bound to leave!. This was the dreary part of her life; belonging to a broken family.
Every now and then she was moving; sometimes with her mother and the other times with her father. She somehow learned to lock her heart… learned not to indulge in friendships which would never last and break hearts in turn. She learned never to relate to a city since she never belonged to one. And today she stood here with people who loved this city like anything. She was amazed at their reactions, how a little incident in the city made their hearts pound. Why doesn’t it happen to me? Why am I never moved by anything anymore? She’d always question herself.
She was in a relationship now; a steady one with bonds and contracts but she did not know how to maintain one and how could she? The only bond she ever had was with running away; of escape.
She had lived a life where she did not meet her parents for ages and did not even want to. Her spouse was amazed how she did not seem to miss them. She was in turn amazed why he loved his folks so much? And did he actually love them or was it all fake? She knew she did not trust anyone and she also knew that she would not be able to develop the trust for another ten or twenty years or maybe never.
She knew that half of her life had passed in this race; that no place seemed familiar to her anymore. Nothing gave her good memories and she had lost the touch of even creating any memories. She just did not have the heart to tell this to her spouse. How could she tell him that I do not trust you? That I do not love your city? That I do not relate to it? The city about which he had more than a dozen stories to tell while she kept listening to him silently? What would she tell him? She did not relate to this city even after living there for more than 8 years.
He loved to tell her how mischievous he was as a child and how she longed to have had a childhood like his. How she always envied his wonderful childhood. How she envied his parents who still brought gifts for him even though he was above 30 now; how they still celebrated his birthday. This made her all more miserable and more guilty that she envied none else than her own husband? But this seemed to be the reality. When he would tell her stories of his childhood filled with fun and thrill all she could see in her mind would be the long lonely cold nights; night when her parents would fight and turn away; nights when she was all alone crying over the misery her parents brought to her. And though now she had a better life but why did she not relate to it? Why did she still relate to the lost childhood?
He loved to take pictures and upload on the Facebook but this did not matter to her. He loved to create memories while to her memories gave pain and nothing more. How hard he used to try to break her glass but the harder her glass turned. She liked it that way because getting close meant getting hurt.
How she longed to tell her parents just once how much she loathed them … how much she hated them for not being there when they should have. How she despised them for giving her all the miseries other people did not relate to.
If only they could ever understand how one wrong decision completely changed her personality? How she hated to relate to anything in life. How she hated to be weak ever in front of any one.
But she knew she would never tell them. She knew she would never tell this to anyone around her as this was her deep dark secret; a secret to be kept hidden till the death.
And just at this she turned her gaze around. Winds blowing through her hair and the sun going down. She was snapped from her thoughts with the call for popcorns and she turned around to her husband with a smile on her lips. She looked around the glitz and glitter around her… it was a nice place indeed; but just a PLACE like any other one.

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