Something (Short Story)


Something      

Baba Pakurdheen

I feel as if something is forcing me to remember my past,

I remember my mother screaming when I first saw this world, so I was unable to control my cry,

I remember my first food, mom’s milk,

I remember…………………………………………………..

Father whispering my name into my ears,

Mother speaking with me; I was unable to understand the language but able to feel the subject

“LOVE”,

My frail legs and blabbering tongue,

Pain felt by mother’s tender chest due my first brute teeth,

Dad’s warm hairy chest which was my bed,

Story of sun, moon, fairy etc by grandma with teeth less jaws,

My first B’day with relatives,

Tasting grandma’s crispy dosa and idli chili powder,

Ghost tales which made me weep,

KG, quarrels and Anjali for her brown eye and grey lunch box,

Grandpa’s thrashes on the hips which made me a better cyclist,

Sprint across school corridor with ears filled with water ignoring teacher’s warning, for the chill it
gave,

Pocketing stones into ditches while returning home,

My Favorite pink shirt which Abi liked much,

BSA cycle with extra supporting wheels as my birthday present and furious ride on it with my sister to
escape from a chasing street bitch,

Folk games of my locale,

Fear of meeting math mam with incomplete home work,

Cheating my aunt in arithmetic tables who voluntarily taught,

“CIRCUS” skit for which I played role of a Drummer for which I was awarded nick name “funeral
drummer” by cousins in order to tease me,

Fearing Quini mam who threatened me for urinating in the drinking water tank found rear to my
classroom,

My first thesis in 5th standard mathematics exam paper rejected by unfit teachers, who were unable
to digest my progress,

The memento which I awarded myself for the slowest running; like Robin Hood, stealing from the
race winner, whom they called so,

Claps on my cheeks which resembled my favorite butter bun, for backbiting social science sir,

Kneeling before class mates for someone’s act of tearing notice board charts, who I was not,

Love affair with a senior girl who buttoned my collar prior to Monday school assembly,

My father assuring principal that his son will score above 60% in next terminal exam on account of
my failure in 8th STD half yearly exam, I was confused whether “my father had any other son other
than me?”

The examinations of 9th standard which I passed by copying friend’s papers,

Motor Bike ride at 120 kmph for which I got scolding from my neighbors for striking a dog,

Attraction towards my classmate Anu for her interest towards my curious subject physics,

The 90% mark in 10th STD board exam as a shock which carried me to Chennai for higher secondary,

Hostel life which showed me the life beyond my circle, with its flat foods, arrogant wardens, Physical
education Trainers who were our watch dog for morning and evening studies,

An eye-popping schedule which starts at 5 a.m. and terminates around 11 p.m. with two hours break
as a whole,

Poem-writing was my entertainment there,

Hidden FM transistors unknowing to guards fetched a great pleasure,

Ouija board experiments at late nights on spirits,

94% of score in HSS paved way to be a doctor,

Admission in a repute medical college,

Vomit on seeing cadaver,

Ragging of seniors to fetch water in 2ml cap from the tank at the ground floor and to fill it in 20 liter
can at 7th floor,

Freedom which came in my second year with freshers,

Cigarettes, Alcohol, Porn movies introduced by my associates who provided relaxation skills from
learning stress,

The suicides of my kin’s for various reasons,

Brown sugar + whisky, my branded liquor,

Rehearsal on love, kiss, date with my GF’s,

The playgrounds which presented scars as reward,

Innumerable love plays,

The Y block arena where I received my bachelor’s degree in medicine,

AIIMS campus for MS degree,

Professors who never take lessons,

Laboratory of royal grade,

Shweta, my sincere love, who made me crazy,

Our agreement on marriage after good settlement which made us to pursue our studies,

The plane which carried me to United States as a junior surgeon,

The young blood, fresh dollar, colorful environment which gave me many “living together’s, sex
parties, etc” forgiving Shweta,

The call from home to have marriage,

Proposal of marriage to Shweta,

The confirmation of our wish through both parents which carried me again to India,

The marriage date which made me to give party to my friends,

The powdered brown sugar mixed with whisky made me to absolve doctor’s warning and my ulcer.

Irritation in my stomach,

The night I returned to my bed wavering with support of some drunkards,

My dream stops here.

I feel this remembrance of the past which had covered my whole life had taken

place in just a few seconds.

I feel,

Something rare,
Something making my eyes to drown,
Something shutting tight my mouth,
Something that cause my legs to come together,
Something that gives intolerable pain,
Something that makes my body freeze,
Something trying to switch off my brain,
Something that unplugs my neuron which could have caused the dream above,
Something that urges me to realize “Why I was created and by whom?”,

“What’s the purpose of this life?”,

Something dissolving my future in nonentity,
Something that clings my throat making my breathe to get halt,
Something ceasing my heart,
Something that plucks out my soul,

And finally something that unveils what man doesn’t have knowledge about!

The Death.

Has tasted me too.

The thing that makes human beings to shiver and to think “what’s beyond?”

Baba Pakurdheen A

Anthropologist, Writer, Traveler, Journalist and ultimately a Simplite.

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