I am dying. I cannot believe this. I have left an unsolved math equation back in my room. I have an exam the very next day. I need to study hard for the rest of the night. But they have left me blindfolded. They put something in my mouth to ensure that I do not make sounds. I have lost the counting of time
I am dying. I cannot believe this. I have left an unsolved math equation back in my room. I have an exam the very next day. I need to study hard for the rest of the night. But they have left me blindfolded. They put something in my mouth to ensure that I do not make sounds. I have lost the counting of time.
Time seems to have stopped here in room no 2011 of this dormitory. I can feel the drops of tears stuck in my eyes but I cannot cry. Because my mother used to tell me that "boys do not cry" and because the towel they stuffed into my mouth does not allow me to scream.
It was not the first time I had been beaten. My mother slapped me once or twice when I snatched chocolates or chips from my younger brother. Yes, I felt so hurt that I thought I would never ever talk to my mother. I used to hide in the corner of the roof and cry profusely.
After a short session of sobbing, my mother used to come and hug me tight. Every time this happened, she would cry more than I did as she would pat me on my back. I had no idea why she cried; so I used to ask her about it. She never replied. Her eyes were numb in pain.
I am lying flat on the floor of room no 2011. Somebody has just entered the room. Not one; perhaps many. I was wondering if these people would beat me again. I cannot talk. If I could, I would beg them to stop.
Yes, they have started again. I have lost sense in my legs and my back. I am just lying on the floor and waiting for them to stop. I do not know whether I am conscious or not. All on a sudden, the unsolved equation has struck my mind again.
I just feel like going back to my table and solve the math problem before anything bad happens. But things seem to be slipping far away from my control. Suddenly, I feel an overwhelming shake in my body and it is so dark everywhere.
Am I back to my consciousness? I can hear people whispering around me. Would they allow me to get back to my room this time? Maybe, they will. I am a hopeful person. I feel like giving a call to my mother. Perhaps she already has dialled my number several times.
I have asked her not to get worried about me so many times. But she is so determined. She will call me every two or three hours. I have been trying to open my eyes but in vain. I have been trying to tell them to allow me to get back to my room but in vain. I feel the frozen tongue in my mouth. Panic seizes me. Am I dead? Do things feel like this once we are dead?
As the panic of death hovers over me, the thought of God came to my mind. The idea of God has always been a mystery to me. I have always found solace in believing his omnipresence. I have performed every ritual as per the commandments scripted in the holy books. Have I made a grave mistake that God is punishing me for like this? I am scared.
I better leave go of these thoughts. I am not dying. I must live. I should try to move. I have to breathe. Maybe the night is about to end. Now that they might leave me alone, a sudden flash of hope lightens my mind.
I am sitting in the classroom of my university. I am still trying to solve that equation. Some equations can be really complicated. The professor is looking at me with an unusual curiosity. I give him an ostentatious gesture of satisfaction that I was about to crack the equation. But deep inside, I know that I am struggling to solve it.
But I am not in the classroom. I am in room no 2011. Do people dream before dying? Perhaps. I am here on the verge of dying for the first time. Not really. It is for the second time.
I was born and brought up in a city-like atmosphere. So, the pond remained as a vague mystery in my childhood. When I was in fourth grade, my grandfather once took me to the pond to swim. All I can remember is my body sinking into greenish water. I was trying to fly up but something was constantly dragging me down into the deep hole.
Did I try to cry? I cannot remember. What I can clearly remember is the hand of my grandfather holding my hand tight and lifting me up. Later my grandfather held me tight in his chest and told me: "Whenever you are in danger, remember His name. Be certain, someone will come and help you."
Yes, I am crying for help on the stairs of my own dormitory. It is a feeble cry. But this strength is all I can manage. When I came here for the first time, I walked up the stairs with pride. It was like my first step towards success and fulfilment.
Now that I am lying here helplessly, I am uttering His name. There are hundreds of people living here in this dormitory. Surely, someone will come. He will send someone for me. Someone will come and take me to my room.
And yes, finally someone has come. But where are you taking me? My heart cries out, 'Please take me to my room.' But he remains unheard of my appeals. And so do you.