Wednesday, 29 June 2016

Villain - Part One

            I have just woken up. Looking here and there for some time, I sit on my bed with legs folded and palms wrapping my face. I want to cry, just that I cannot. Tears have distanced themselves from me. I know, I have been wrong all this while. I know why he walked away. It was entirely my mistake. I made it miserable for him. The way I am, I know he deserved more of everything, I know he has done the right thing. I still feel bad about him not being there with me right now. This feeling of hollowness doesn’t seem to break me down, I'm just very sad.

            I really loved him, but he chose to walk away. What else could have he done, anyway?

I still sit, not knowing what to do. I decide to take a mini tour in my home. I walk through the corridor, the living room, the kitchen and the study. Reaching the balcony, I stop. I go into the fresh air, feeling the breeze against my skin. It’s cold. I rest myself on a chair nearby and keep looking down the balcony. There are many people, busy in their lives. Not even an ounce of what they feel is visible on their faces. I’m trying to forget what had happened. Doesn’t look like I’m succeeding, though. Whenever I close my eyes, the image of his smiling face flashes across my mind and makes me feel a little more numb than before.

Am I the only one who feels this hollow and numb?

I see a lady, waiting for the school bus, with her son. She looks tired, early in the morning. It isn’t even 8 a.m., the day hasn’t even begun. As the school bus arrives, her son crawls in and waves a big goodbye with a wide grin on his face, and the lady does the same, just with a flying kiss, too. After the departure session, she gets back to her home, invisible in a fraction of seconds. There is a man selling tea and coffee, too, down there. Seeing him, suddenly, I realize I need some coffee too. I get up and go into the kitchen, and make a cup of coffee. It gets a bit more than a cup, so I drink the excess in a rush, burning my tongue.

Why am I so careless about myself?

I’m wearing an old green pyjama, with a blue boys T-shirt, three sizes, too big. I don’t even bother to change into good clothes, or bath. Or even brush. I’m being lazy and unhygienic, but I don’t give a fuck. I don’t know why, I feel immensely tired, mentally and physically, too. I take my cup of coffee, and drag myself to the balcony again, and rest myself on the chair. I sip my coffee and realize that it’s turned out to be a bit strong than what I actually like. I don’t mind though. I fold my legs on the chair, trying to get in a comfortable position, and lean on the grill. I tilt my head on my right hand, closing my eyes for a nanosecond. I can see my fingernails, painted yellow and pink, and the ring in the index finger. Mom had said that ring was for good luck, but oh. I feel my saliva dropping out, and I quickly clean it with my shoulder sleeve. I rub my face with my palms and sip the coffee again. It’s still hot.

Am I even normal?

My hairs are a mess. I had coloured them brown, with a blonde strap highlighted. They looked nice, but right now, I am a mess. And I don’t even bother to comb them. They keep falling over my face, because of the early morning cold breezes, but I’m too lazy. I close my eyes, exhale, and rub my palms over each other. I sip my coffee once again. My neighbour is going to her college, and she sees me in my balcony. She shouts, “Bye Shivani Di!” from down, and I just smile at her, not knowing if I should wave back or scream like she did. I gulp down the coffee; some of it spills down, and come back to my room. I search for my phone, and dial Amrita’s number. She’s my best friend.

I wonder if I should really talk about it to anybody.

“Hi, Shivani. Are you okay?” She asks.
“I don’t know, can you come over?”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
She hangs up. I sit there till she arrives. About fifteen minutes later, the doorbell rings. Amrita has bought pastries, and I grab those from her hands. She takes a spoon to eat, while I start eating with my hands. She looks at me; I don’t care to explain myself. The unmade bed, the messed up house, the unhygienic me, the spilled coffee, and my weirdness, it’s all enough for her to understand what I’m going through. I’m still eating the pastry and my hands are sticky as some of it falls over my lap and the floor. I tilt my head and look at her, licking my lower lip, hairs falling over my face again.  Amrita walks to me and puts her hand over my shoulder. We both know what she wants to say.

That, I need to see a psychiatrist.


P.s. Part two coming soon. Stay connected. Love.


  1. really nice story waiting for 2nd part

  2. I just read your story's part second and this too.. Really nice stuff👍

  3. Apurva...
    Such a beautiful narration :)
    Whenever I read your work.
    "BEAUTIFUL" is the only word that hits the shores of my mind.
    All I think is to hug you for being a good writer.And then again hug you for your constant learning and hard work.
    All I can do is to wish you luck again and again until you reach a position where I will stand in a line for your signed book.
    Love you! :*