FICTION

He reached for the door and rushed forth towards it; but it was not where it should have been. He felt as if the door had changed its location, like a naughty child. His tips of finger had, perhaps touched the door in the middle. The door flaps opened a bit, with a light creaking sound as if seeing him stagger, were turning their laughter in their throat. He opened his eyes and looked at the door in anger. Everything was in its place; the door was still fixed in the wall with both flaps shut. “Was it my imagination that the door opened with one touch of my fingertips?  That light creaking sound was a delusion of my ears.”

After getting out of bed he had gone towards the door with closed eyes and when he opened his eyes, he found himself in the middle of the room. This was a shock. Perhaps it was a miscalculation.  Anger had been replaced by regret. “I will have to try again.”  With a heavy heart he walked towards his bed.  His nerves had started to crack. Falling on his bed he became oblivious of his surroundings.

He was the only offspring of his parents, born in the later part of their lives. After praying their whole lives for an off spring, they were not sure whether they were pleased with the acceptance of their prayers; or whether accepted whatever fate had in store for them.

The father, who was many years older than his mother became the victim of his childhood accident. The mother had managed some savings from his father’s clerical job and with this saving they were making their both ends meet. After graduation he got a job in a private company. His mother, who was immersed in her reveries to see her son become a bridegroom, did not wake up from her sleep one morning. He was not familiar with any one of his parents’ relatives. Neither had the mother ever mentioned anyone nor did he feel the need to meet them. His mother was his only universe. After her departure he did not feel the need to know any one of them.

Now he was afraid of the darkness, loneliness and the future. He always had a headache since last few years; his eye sight was getting weak.

Every year he would go to an optical shop keeper and without consulting a specialist would get his eye sight checked from the same optometrist and buy new glasses with   thicker lenses and get on with the routine. It was only a few days back that the optometrist suggested that he should get his eyesight checked from an ophthalmologist.  He went to see a doctor and out of bad news of his life he heard the worst and came back home.  According to the doctor he had reached the last stage of glaucoma from where blindness sets in. There was a slight hope that the blindness can be temporarily averted with an operation. Hearing this news was like when someone tells a passenger that the bus would meet a fatal accident on next turn.

In an effort to escape from reality, he tried to absorb himself in routine of life but a fear had planted itself deep down. Next morning, as per routine, he tried to pick up his glasses that he had placed on the bed side table. With a tinkle the ashtray fell on floor as if making fun of him. “Ah!” He was staring in bewilderment.  Since long he had this habit of picking up his glasses without looking at them.  Never did anything move from its place. “What is happening to me?”  For a considerable time, he kept staring at the roof. He used to be a simple, introverted and subdued child.

“I have lived a drab life. But this did not mean that though I have a limited imagination I do not have the right to live a simple and normal life.” During this monologue he did not know with whom he was annoyed; there was no one to appease him.  Clad in despair, he spent the whole day remembering his parents. He missed that girl whose face, except kohl eyes, was hidden in veil and she would look at him with interest. “Alas! If only someone should have been with me here now and shown me the way, and had become my eyes, my hope would never have died without death.”

He also intensely missed that girl who had written him a letter when he had finished his matriculation examinations. He tore the crumpled letter without reading it, fearing his mother. He threw the pieces in flower bed. He washed his hands many a time but the fragrance stayed in his palms. He remembered his childhood friends and the time spent with them but now they had moved to farther areas on axis of their lives.

He reminisced about those who were close to his heart or he was closer to their hearts. He was exhausted by the shock.  That night sleep was nowhere near him, neither was he dreaming nor did he find himself on bed. He peeped out of the window and saw that his body was running on road, all naked. He ran after himself. After running tirelessly he entered a village where sky was covered by vultures and kites. Dark clouds were sailing amidst naked human bodies.  There was a multitude of mob but people were divided in small groups. In one corner there was an explosion and people were dancing and singing, watching the human bodies turn into pieces and then returning to their gossip and laughter.

The mob, that his body had entered, had no interest with other two groups.  They were neither distressed on seeing bloodied corpses nor had any inclination towards those who were dancing and singing. Hunger had been tied to their bellies and despite of their hard labor they were involved in fear, vultures and kites; by the time their bodies were lowered in graves, they would have lost some of their body parts. He saw that a kite swooped on his body and took away his eyes. “My eyes!  My eyes!”  He was shouting at the top of his voice. “Ah!” He got up in confusion and found himself bathed in sweat. He hurriedly put on his slippers and rushed to the bathroom and continued splashing cold water on his burning eyes. He saw his face in the mirror carefully.

 Would he ever be able to see this face? He was saddened to see stubble on his chin, disheveled hair, red eyes because of so many sleepless nights. All of a sudden his eyes disappeared and there were deep holes there.  He cried in fear and came out without drying himself with towel. This was the third day. During these three days he could not understand his situation. “I have to reach the door. I have to reach whatever may be.” 

He could not recollect the moment of decision when reaching up to door became the aim of his life. With closed eyes he had twice unsuccessfully tried to reach the door. Sitting on the edge of the bed he started to observe the room minutely. “Approximately fourteen or fifteen steps… after getting up from the bed, three or four steps to left and then ten or eleven steps straight.” He did not want to repeat the same mistake therefore he started correct calculations. Had he not known that he is going to be blind, he would have crossed the threshold many a time.

During his childhood, whenever he played hide and seek with his eyes covered with a handkerchief, he would touch playmates with such speed that they all would shout foul play. He would take an oath, gave an assurances but no one would pay any heed: resultantly, as punishment, he would have to repeat his turn.

Present situation was that as soon as he closed his eyes, he would feel as if he is lost. Darkness has thrown his surroundings into invisibility. Door along with walls, room, house, town, in fact the whole universe… all thrown into invisibility and he is standing all by himself and thinking which direction he has to go. He again stood up with determination, took four steps to the right and stopped. Clad in vest and shalwar, with outstretched hands he looked like a scare crow that has been exorcised by someone with hammer and nails. He did not want to be exorcised. He was confident that if he reached the door, he would be able to complete other chores of life. As if the door had become a justification of his life. What would happen if he could not reach the door? He was over taken by confusion.

Sweat was shining on his neck and forehead. “Darkness is cruel, tyrannical… devours everything… hope and expectation also, even life itself, even then it’s like a cold corpse. In spite of devouring life, it has no spark of life.” He was chattering with closed eyes, “I have to reach up to the door. If only I could reach there.” While chattering, waving his arms, he started walking straight. He overcame by such a madness as if after crossing the door everything would be fine and life, full of light, would encircle him in arms. He had lost direction. He was standing at a distance of four steps from bed and he was unable to guess the location of door and which side is his own direction? “One, two.”  He could feel the unsteadiness in his feet… “three… four… eleven… eleven… eleven…” He stopped at eleventh step.  He became still. He became a scare crow.  He was exorcised. He felt that if he took the twelfth step, he would fall into a well and would become a prisoner for whole life.

“I am used to doing things with light of my eyes, what shall I do? Here I am unable to cover the distance up to the door.” While indulging in a monologue his lips got parched. Between fear and hope, with closed eyes he looked like a saint. “The directions are not correct this time?” Fear started clawing its bloody paws in his back. “Will I be not able to cover this distance? This failure will become the reason of all failures in my life.” This thought ran a cold shiver through his spine and reached the nape of neck. His nerves started getting tired. A bird trapped in net had forgotten the art of cutting it. The python of despair had reached close to his head to devour him. He fell down then and there. “Mother? Mother? Where are you?” His yelling echoed in the empty house.

With his head on his knees, he started crying like a child. Tick… Tick, the clock on the wall was informing about every passing second. He did not have the strength nor will to take another step. The door at a distance of one step was looking at him in depression!

….

(Self-translation from URDU)

::::