Chapter 2
What I Am Made Of
The next day, I was welcomed by
something unexpected.
“This must be a prank”, I said to
myself.
My eyes were fixed on the yellow
stick notes paper stuck on my monitor and fluttering with the very little air
coming from the air-conditioning duct. Someone wanted my undivided attention
and I was pretty sure they got what they wanted. But if they had expected to
scare me, then they would be heavily disappointed because my split second
reaction was a suppressed laugh.
“Read
this and take it serious…
Stay for night
shift, you will see what frightens you more. 12 o clock…”
Cheap as a scare could get,
that’s what it was. I took the note in my hand and examined it. It was just a handwritten
unsigned parchment which meant nothing but someone trying to gain my attention,
not that I was one big celebrity which I wished for to happen. The curves and
bends which formed the running letters might have been a girl’s.
It was my childhood dream to
address a crowd and be the center of attraction. If there was something which I learnt from
life then it’s: things don’t happen as anyone intends for anyone. Life has the
bad habit of improvisation.
Being a business analyst in a
project for RIMS, the maximum attention I could get was from my project manager
and my onsite counterpart. Though I liked my job which gave me excuses to learn
new words, while preparing the source requirements document; I wanted to do
more with writing than with learning words. A curse for a writer is being in a
place where no one reads.
My mind reeled back to the piece
of paper which I held in my hand. It brought a smile to my face. I was curious
to know who would do this, after all authors were a bunch of attention seekers
but I was not ready to heed the words of an anonymous person whomsoever it
would be. I placed the paper inside the drawer and locked it and logged into my
system.
My routine life started, Boredom
to be my immediate cousin.
“Have you finished the ADIC
report?” Sheela asked in an authoritative tone. She was my colleague who has
been a loyal employee of RIMS for the past 5 years. In her mid thirties, she
was very much a workaholic unlike me. Though people might mistake her devotion
to her work for show off but I had the opportunity to know her better. Her
husband was a keralite and they have been happily married and settled in
Chennai in the same company.
“Working on it”, I answered
without looking at her.
“Hurry up. We need it by EOD”,
She paused a moment and looked at me.
“Ya ya sure, will do”, I cursed
her for coming early to office and expecting me to prepare a document on an
application which I barely knew for the onsite, who knew nothing about it and
will read for days without any understanding.
Time flew as the words flowed
through my fingers. The day passed on as it always did. Breakfast, lunch and
finally it was ‘7 o clock’ and it was time for me to go home. The journey back
home was magical if not for the terrible traffic which made us halt in a signal
for 30 long minutes.
After I reached home there was
very little energy left in my body. I hit the sack early by 10.
Someone was standing next to
me, looking at me. What does he want with me? I moved and he moved. I tried to
call my mother sleeping in the next room, he came closer to me.
Then I knew, he didn’t have a
face. It was just hollow. I would have screamed but my voice failed me.
I woke up sweating…
It was a dream. It was a
recurrent dream. This dream had been with me for very long that I couldn’t
actually come to terms whether it was a dream or something that happened to me.
I have never shared this dream with anyone except her.
The ancient grandfather clock in
the hall struck 12 rounds of dong. Strangely the timing was perfect. It sent
the shivers through my spine. The piece of paper which I found the morning came
to my mind amplifying the fear which was building inside me.
I switched the lights on and went
to the hall to get myself some water. It was like reliving the words which I
had once written. I hoped to not turn towards the neighboring bed room which I
had to pass by. There was something there inside the room. My eyes tired and
mind not thinking straight, there was nothing to protect me. This inability
gave birth to a different emotion, anger.
I moved to the room and switched
the lights on. There was nothing there.
My sleep that night was spoiled.
I couldn’t blame the piece of paper I found that morning but it was weird to
have all the incidents happen on the same day. Suddenly a hype to reexamine the
paper engulfed me but deep down, a feeling lighter than a feather told me that
I would not find the paper in the drawer tomorrow.
………………………………
Continued...
