Undeterred by the
unceasing drizzle and the gusty winds swirling around, plumes of smoke billowed
up into the air. He knew the source of this. He did not know about most of the
things transpiring beyond the confines of his cell, or the jail he was housed in,
but he knew this all too well. When the smoke stopped, he loosened the clutch
of his hands on the rods patterning the sky visible through the window, averted
his gaze from the burning site, and slouched on the floor. A new inmate would
come soon.
Piercing the pall of silence, the
door banged open. The floor-head dragged a man in by his collar- rickety in
appearance and etched with a mark of surrender on the face. ‘When will his turn
come?’ -he asked the head, pointing to the new entrant. ‘Next week’- came the
swift reply in a tone implicitly warning him to keep mum. He looked down and
almost immediately, a barrage of thoughts hit him. It would again be an agonizing
wait of seven days, a duration which he had learnt to reconcile with, yet it
was a time when he was, and would be, filled with a surge of envy, rage and an
acceptance of bearing the onerosity of something known as human life. He was an
outsider on the floor- the odd-one out- a result of overcrowding on the floor
of ‘life-imprisonment’. Here he was, languishing and withering amongst men
slapped with the deplorable punishment of death penalty, yet triumphantly relishing
the imminence of the final release from this daily ordeal. When he first
entered the jail, the thought would occasionally flash before him, but now the
question assails him in almost every passing second- why hadn’t he directly
killed the man? The road was completely deserted, it was pitch dark and most
importantly, he could feel the neck of the man, wet by palpitation, firmly in
his grip. From his instinct built over years of experience, he could sense the
final air of life being stifled out, but not before the siren reached his ears.
He instantly dropped him and made for the narrow by-lanes with the suitcase
tucked under his arms, little knowing that the police had started searching the
area akin to a comb running through hairs.
On the third day, the news
finally arrived, opening a new horizon of life before him and blinding him with
the unbearable joy one feels on being greeted with sunlight after emerging from
a dark, cavernous place. ‘It’s life imprisonment. He managed to survive, but
the amputed leg and the acid-smeared face will remain.’ It was one of those
rare and surreal moments when an acceptance of an inevitable and imminent demise,
a cloud of reconciliation shrouding the intrinsic human zeal to survive day
after day is suddenly pushed into oblivion by an announcement which makes one
feel that being able to enjoy something as ordinary and commonplace as human
life is nothing short of a new-found, priceless reward.
But he was to be proved wrong. Completely
wrong. It did not take long for the epiphany to set in- the long hours of compulsory
construction work, the whiplashes for the slightest of shortcomings and the
harrowing solitude of night in his cell. He could not have believed it until he
had experienced how it feels to talk deliriously, shout, scream and cry- solely out of an absence of someone to talk
and converse with. The arduous labour,
coupled with grossly inadequate food, had made him wizened, but much worse than
that, it was his mind which was bruised and broken, eroding like helpless
coastal rocks- immobile, yet constantly being hit by waves of pain, of loss. It
was as if his very existence was a burden too crushing to bear.
The logs were being carefully
arranged. Hours before, two convicts had been executed. Wrapped in white
sheets, the bodies were placed on top of the pile of wooden logs. ‘Get up! You
have to come today. There’s a shortage of men for making the pyres’, the floor-head
had said to him. Now, he could see him lighting the two elevated wooden
structures. In the blink of an eye, they were ablaze with dancing yellow
flames. However, beyond it, he could hear the bones cracking and melting into
thin air, alluring him to take the leap into a domain unknown but surely better
than the one he was living in. It was, indeed, the ultimate temptation.
It's a heart-wrenching story. Keep it up.
ReplyDeleteVery well written. Particularly the formation and build up of this piece is amazing.
ReplyDeleteMarvellous!
ReplyDeleteSuperb! Keep it up!
ReplyDeleteThe style of writing is really praiseworthy.
ReplyDelete