Demonic Darkness

It was rush hour on a Friday evening at the exquisite Concorde square. The traffic was barely moving. I could sense the irritation among my co-passengers. “Que faire?!” they shrugged to each other, shaking their heads huffily. It became a ritual for me to look at my watch every few seconds and wriggle my wrist restlessly.

“Damn, I’m going to miss her call” I scoffed to myself.

Music was pulsating in my ears. The buzz inside and on the sidewalks interspersed with music playing on the radio along with honking horns made for a rather noisy melody but there was no escaping it. On second thoughts, Silence would be frightening too.
“Excuse-me can you please lower the volume Robert?” I asked the driver with a smile.
“Sure...” he said with a questioning look on his face. “Peter” I offered. We shook hands. I’d been traveling in this bus for a week now. Finally we’d been acquainted. It felt nice.

I looked outside my window, to see the bunch of laughing fair heads walked past our bus. Eager tourists were busy clicking away while some couples strolled around. It struck me how private each of our lives is. We all occupy such different worlds and yet, here we are, put together in a mash. This feeling of alienation from the world around me had never clouted me in my country. It just pinched me hard, ironically in a place as beautiful as Paris. Probably I’m growing old, I joked to myself.

I looked at the empty seat next to me and quickly turned my face back to the window. This time I saw a vision. I saw myself walking hand-in-hand with her, discovering the beautiful promenades and street corners. Paris would have such a romantic meaning then. I saw myself buying flowers for her and her beautiful face lit with happiness. On impulse, her soft curls tickled by ears. I chuckled with warmth.

The traffic had begun to recede and steadily the bus began to move smoothly. I sighed, returning to her thoughts again. I never quite understood the mystery about her. I did not fall in love with her instantly. It was so gradual that I feared it would go away. But it didn’t. I found her vile at first and gentle the next and there were more and more layers to be unearthed every time we met. “My Mona Lisa” I’d tease her.

The bus was beginning to empty out with every stop and it was getting cold. I shivered with every gust of wind that hit me when the doors opened to let the passengers out. I decided to move my seat closer to the driver’s seat. It would be warmer there, I said to myself.
I got up to move towards the front seat when the bus jostled for balance. There were violent shrieks coming from outside. The driver had lost complete control. Before I could check myself, it rammed into a huge tree. The music had stopped.

Few minutes later, I opened my eyes to find blood splattered around me. My limbs were numb with pain and cold. A medical team was carrying me away on a stretcher. What was happening? What time was it? My watch was in pieces.

I noticed my glasses were crushed too. But my vision was unnaturally hazy. It was getting weaker and weaker every few seconds. It must be because of no glasses, I told myself. As I entered the ambulance, there was a black out. It felt like a dissolve, a slow fade out in a movie. “Switch on the lights” I screamed. “It’s cold and I need to find my glasses”. There was only darkness. “Someone switch on the lights, for god’s sake” I yelled helplessly again but only got hushed reassurances in return. I rubbed my eyes. Again and again and again! Then the tears flowed, sourly. The pain had been wiped out. In an alien country without help, or security, or sight I felt numb. “How long will the night be?” I asked in desperation. There was no answer. Perhaps, they did not understand my language.


- Janvi Gandhi
janvi.87@gmail.com