A FALLACY

Can you find the cause ? 

EPISODE 1 :

“YEOWWW …” I screamed and woke to an extreme pain in my body. I couldn’t sense where it was from. But I shivered out of agony. I couldn’t think straight. Everything seemed clouded to my vision. I tried harder to get a clear view, I saw streaks of light from about three to four feet in distance; floundered and reached my palm to my stomach. It was wet. I looked at my palm and then my stomach. I saw blood, plenty of it that I knew I am about to die anytime soon; I thought of Joan, her smile, her hair on my face; I smell her; I envision the way she held my hand; the way she would gently rub her cheeks against mine; tapped my head with an attempt to clear of these thoughts and think reality; searched for my phone; not being able to remember where I placed it last I carried myself pressing my stomach to stop the blood rushing out; stumbled slowly; crawled my way to the front door; reached for the key in keyholder hung on the wall adjacent to the door. The keys jingled and I dropped a few down as I grabbed the right one and tried to open the door. I tripped and gathered myself up few to many times; reached Zack’s apartment and rang their bell twice before I fell unconscious. 

Earlier that day, a climate of anxiety prevailed when I stepped inside the class room with a pile of papers held in my hands. 

“Great Thursday, class! I see faces going red. Don’t fret these papers no matter what you think your score will be. Congrats to the ones who have secured better marks than what they have anticipated and also, guys, if your marks didn’t keep up your expectation, don’t lose hope, there’s still many assessments lined up, you could score and improve your grades then!”,

I said as I handed over the papers with a happiness on face so bright that the positivity could spread like rays of scorching sun on a dark gloomy rainy weather, to anyone near. Standing upfront in a place still; holding an answer sheet in a hand; ruffling the paper, I searched for a student to whom it belonged like a celeb giving away trophies, all smiles but clueless.

While my students were examining their papers, I groped my pant along my left, slid my palm inside, reached for phone and pulled it out of my pant pocket. Holding the phone, I swiped the screen to dial window; pressed down contact list; scrolled the screen down fast until letter J and rang the first number in the J series. The dial tone went on for while until I heard a soft voice. It said,

“ Riii ! Babe, I’m in the middle of something. Is anything important? Shall I get back to you after a while?”.

“Sure ! Call back soon Jo..” I replied and hung up the call with a long face. 

“Mr. Riyad”, one of the students claimed, “May I know why am I marked lesser for the question on relativity?” to me. 

The students were bottled up with ample number of doubts. I talked personally with everyone and cleared doubts off their minds. After sorting the questions of the last student with logic, I intimated the class to inform Shiraz to collect his paper from me at the earliest and stepped out. ‘Did he allegedly miss the class to sell those inappropriate products even after I warned his boss to put him behind bars if he tried again to involve Shiraz in such activities’, I thought as I walked down the corridor and reached the university’s faculty space; pulled open my draw; placed the answer sheet and my text book inside and locked it in. 

When the clock struck 3:00 pm,  I looked outside through a window near my seat and looked down at the people walking in all directions carrying different intentions in their heads with desires that need be fulfilled; signed out of my laptop; unplugged it; folded it and aligned it along with its charger inside my bag one behind another and was ready to leave home. 

A black Audi, glossed in the dark reflecting light from street lamps, stalled in front of an apartment…..

EPISODE 2 : THE TATTOO STUDIO 

Walking past a newspaper stall and cherishing the afternoon sun blithely, Madison saw a cow with a leash attempting to walk across the road where the automobiles didn’t care enough to park a while so the white and brown spotted anxious animal could reach the other end. Up through my window, I saw Madison march to the middle of the road, widen her arms and force the vehicles to stop until the it crossed the road.

Madison stopped by a café, picked up few cups of coffee and went inside her tattoo design studio. The moment she entered, she greeted, “ Hey, Darlings! How have you been all day? Also, I have brought you all coffee and guess what? Glazed donuts! Take a break! Take a five!”, her throat out. She read the customers list who had visited that studio that day. It read Charles, Ray, Maya, Dan…. A woman in blue shirt and white denim walked into the studio; clanged the wind chimes as she moved past in and made her presence to be acknowledged curving her lips up wide so one can witness her cheek bone and her honey coloured eyes enchanting everyone looking at them. “I’m Madison”, she approached to the woman.

“ Have you booked your slot already? Do you wish to talk with one of our artists to design your tattoo or have you got it ready in advance?”, Madison’s questions stacked one after another. “No. No. I am here to talk about Riyad”, the woman said and paused.

 EPISODE 3: WHERE EVERYONE MEETS

“No. No. I am here to talk about Riyad. Do you have a minute?”, the woman said and paused. She was the kind that weighs vibes over the eternality of beings; the authenticity in deliverance of implied emotions, the type who admires the rustling of leaves and whistling of trees as wind strikes against them; the one who stalls in a place a little more than she had intended for the song she had been listening to finish; the one who goes straight to anyone and doesn’t think twice to appreciate them for their talent; the one who sees art in a cracked shell; wisdom within folds of skin; an everything in a nothing; a universe engulfed in an emptiness; one who prefers to enjoy the sight of the sun rise from the horizon, sitting among the clouds that fade out as the rays of sun flare upon them; the one who sees a mortality in eternity and cherishes each moment with absolute wholesomeness of her being. 

“Riyad was my fiancé. I understand he lives next door to yours and so can you call me if there was any emergency. I say this because I knew he was someone who shows extreme emotions and might have trouble dealing with anything not favouring him; though I do not want to continue my relationship with him due to the conflict of our interests which would suffocate us in the longer run, I wouldn’t want to jeopardise his well-being now either. You needn’t mention to him that I checked up on him rather I would be pleased if you could dial down my number when there was a need”, saying this, she handed a card to Madison that read JOAN followed by her contact number. Madison agreed to help with all heart and they smiled away before they bid good bye and Joan wore her helmet; sat on her bike swinging her right leg above her bike seat; turned it on; clenched its clutch and changed its gears and took off.

A black Audi, glossed in the dark reflecting light from street lamps, stalled in front of an apartment from which Zack stepped his foot which had shiny black shoes with a pointed end put on, down on the road. Grabbing his laptop from car seat he bent down; looked at the driver; smiled at him; and walked towards the front gate of apartment where he has been living with his wife, Madison, for few years now after she had set her tattoo studio up by the corner of the lane. Wearing a peach lacey shirt and pale green shorts and smelling like fresh fruit, Madison opened their house door and received him even before he laid his finger on the door bell to notify his coming. I watched them from across the corridor, smile at each other with a never fading desire for either of them like a child eyeballing an ice cream truck, as I headed out to get new jar of marmalade for my bread loaf. 

I returned home with a dozen items that I don’t necessarily need right at the moment along with a my blueberry marmalade. Washing my plate clean by moving the scrubber in circles, I heard a faint knock on the door followed by a fast double ring of my doorbell. I turned the faucet shut; placed the plate and spoon upper side facing the granite table top and advanced to have a vision at the person standing outside the apartment through an eyehole fixed in my front door. I saw a muscled person in black shirt wearing a dark coloured cap carrying a flat cuboidal box which I supposed to contain pizza, through the lens, who was walking to and fro anxiously; latched down; pulled my door open; talked with him and figured he was food delivery person as I had expected.

The delivery person said, “You need to pay for your feat”. “Ugh.. What?”, I perplexed.

EPISODE 4: 

Delivery person said, “You need to pay for your feat”. “Ugh.. What?”, I perplexed. “Sorry Sir, I was on call. Your order is here.”, he said tapping his Bluetooth connected earpod twice. “I didn’t book any. You should have come by the wrong door. Can you check up the door number again and the name it is addressed too ?”, said I.  “Order says Madison Zack of door number B6”, he said with a muddled face. “Alright, Yes, Madison lives next door, she might have typed the door number wrong. It’s her order. Next time before handing over the food, check the receiver’s name. I don’t think what you did was professional”, I shrieked at him and shut the door hard. As I walk passed my hallway and into my bedroom I regretted for bashing at him for a minor mix-up. I heard a loud thud from neighbourhood. I thought it was from TV and pulled open my blanket; patted and aligned my pillow; laid down on the bed; switched off the light and saw Joan’s picture in my phone gallery till the eyelids dropped close and I slept.

Back in the apartment that night, Madison and Zack were plotting a plan to upgrade their studio while discussing what had happened earlier that day with Joan and made sure they check him out now and then as candid as possible. That was when they heard a thud from their neighbourhood which they presumed it be from something falling. No sooner did they hear this than they heard their bell ring at a fast pace followed by a groan. They hurried to their door to see me crying in agony and seeking for help, touching and circling my palm around my stomach. I cried , “Blluh.. bluhh.. blood !”, and witnessed my eyelids dropping slowly blocking out my vision and I remembered nothing else later on.

When I strained and opened my eyes slowly, I saw Joan to my right lying her head down on the hospital bed I was on. I touched her hair to which she gasped and woke up. I saw her eyes red and plump because of the tears she might have shed earlier to see me in pain. I realised I was not stabbed, I did not bleed for real rather I believed I was. I developed a delusion of me being in pain and drenched in blood; a physical pain similar to the emotional one I had been going through; I sought help like I intended someone to help me grow out of this. It was all in my head. However, it holds a crucial position, does it not? The psychological strain I was in resonated as a physiological one. The pain that I endure does not localise in one part of my body and leave the others unbothered. It knows no limits. It suffocates you, churns your stomach; congests your rib cage, makes it hard for you to think; for you to breathe; for you to have the stamina to live. Though I knew I am strong enough, I still fret a few triggers. I do not envy couples who are happy; rather I miss the moments I had with Joan; I miss the rush of emotions I experienced with her. I miss the sensuality; the belongingness; the secureness; the liveliness; the feeling of being wanted; the assurance of having someone for me; the need to live a little longer; the need to fight a little harder. I missed wanting to live.

This series of thoughts had took the better of me and made me hospitalised now. We are often said to grow through what you go through but did they forget to mention how difficult it is deliberately with an intention to safeguard us from a panic attack or just because they didn’t care enough? I do not know. The graph that depicts your pain scale doesn’t fall off steep like a free fall rather the process is slow and ugly before you figure out your silver lining. Yes , there’s no silver lining readily available to be bought rather you draw one little by little, millimetre by millimetre till you form an imperfectly perfect cloud. There might be stimuli that erase off your meticulous drawing with no guilt; there might be instances where you are prone to give up but it is when you need to remember it is all a phase and that few years down the line, life wouldn’t be as hard as it is now, people wouldn’t seem as scary as they are now. It is okay to seek help. It is okay to show off your anger. It is okay to talk about things that are difficult to be talked about. It is okay to be vulnerable. It is okay to be sensitive. It is okay to feel all sorts of discomfort and feel like a human for what is a life without having the privilege to observe the teeniest of things and sense galaxies in it. 

                                                         

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