Jump │✔

᛫ D U S K ᛫

'

2015

August

18 : 23

Squinting my eyes, I observed the dreamy and exquisite sight ahead of me. Darting back and forth at the heavens and my watch, I noted the time. Apparently, it was twenty-three minutes past six in the evening, displayed by the neon green light, flashed on the cracked screen of my battered old watch. Yet, I did not have the heart to throw it away.

Eyes dampened with tears of pride, Baba had gifted me that watch when I got accepted into the most prestigious institution of the country.

"You have made me proud!" he had said, as a single drop raced past his wrinkled cheek.

Reviving the memory, the illusion of my family itself, made an unimaginable feeling of bliss seep through my bones.

The evening call to prayer from the mosque across the streets outside our campus, reverberated around the neighborhood, making the ivory wings of the doves flutter abruptly and fly away, teasing the clouds with the soft feathers.

As the purple hue kissed the red tinge of the sunken sun, I watched the dusk settle in, announcing the end of a wonderful day.

Endings are beautiful.

The watch was a second hand one, something which Baba had found on the railway tracks along with the other junk they collected. Nevertheless, it was the gesture which melted me.

"Yesterday the dusk settled twelve minutes before, today it was behind schedule," I mused. For the last one week I had been jotting down the time when dusk fell and it was consistent, just a minute here or there.

Sitting on the ledge, I watched the doves twirling in circles above me. Connecting my fingers with the water beads on the surface, I clasped the soda bottle and brought its opening to my mouth, enjoying a sip. The chilled beverage made its way down my throat, while I planted the bottle beside me as the glass material clinked against the rough plane of the ledge.

I caught the sight of the children on the other lane, throwing the stone and jumping on the numbered boxes, playing the classic old game, hopscotch. Before heading here to watch the sky, even I had joined them for a brief time.

19 : 44

The purple hue blended with the indigo, unfurling the darkness.

I watched the boys flocked into their own groups, gather outside the hostel. Hanging out near the small tea stall nearby or mounted on their bikes, showing off to their heart's content. Laughing, gossiping, slapping each other, they pass their time. The seniors picking on the freshers and the juniors and sophomores, my batchmates, enjoying the show.

My phone's screen lit up, notifying two missed calls and a message from my roommate.

"Where are you?"

Glancing at the hostel's entrance gate, eyeing my spectacled roommate glued to the phone, sitting near the big tree, I texted back.

"Be there soon :)"

I took another sip, a huge one this time, and placed the bottle back to where it was.

Digging my hands into my pocket, I conducted a quick search for my wallet. Opening it up, I traced my fingertips over my college pass, chuckling at the photo of the shy boy staring back at me. How much had my brother teased my for that snap!

Speaking of which, I unearthed a torn photograph, hidden behind my identification card. Delicately brushing over it, I smiled at the sight of my younger brother. Kiran.

The caption of that snap gleamed under the moonlight.

'MayanKiran'

The combination of our names, Mayank and Kiran. Mayank, the moon and Kiran, the light. Moonlight.

Three years younger to me. Our personalities were like night and day, like dusk and dawn. I was timid, soft-spoken, obedient. He was bold, held strong opinions, rebellious. He meant the world to me.

The crowd amassed on the ground, tramped back to the hostel. Probably mess time.

I should get going too.

20 : 32

My stomach growled. I skipped dinner. Like always.

The shrill voice echoed throughout the hostel premises, the warden must be slamming the spoon against the steel plate, indicating the curfew. The watchman locked the gates, making the place appear like a central jail, all over again.

There was a light breeze. The forecast did mention a rain today. So it was the monsoon breeze.

But even the breeze would not cleanse my body. The rain would not purify my soul.

And unless I got purified, they would treat me like dirt. Refusing to be near me, taunting my  family, my community, humiliating me, making me understand my worth was not even at par to a dead animal's, calling me names, starving me to death and ensuring that any person who talked to me would receive the same treatment.

Filth.

That's what I was called.

Can I ask?

"What was my fault?!"

The second round of the banging of the plate and spoon started. The last warning for the curfew.

My elbow accidentally nudged the smooth glass, knocking over the soda bottle. It tumbled down, and flying across sixteen floors, crashed into the ground, broken and shattered.

The glass shreds which gleamed in the moonlight, was nothing compared to the scars I bore.

Nothing.

For the past one week, I've been coming up to the terrace. Sitting here alone for few hours and climbing down the stairs back again. If I back down this time, I will be a failure forever.

Forever.

I gazed at the stars, the moon, the sky, the nothingness. Imagine doing this forever.

The breeze had turned into strong wind. I placed the wallet on the spot which was occupied by the bottle. The phone and the watch next to it.

I removed my slippers and placed them neatly on the cold floor of the terrace. It had started drizzling.

Standing, I closed my eyes.

Baba, Ma, Kiran, my geeky roommate, the assignment I was to submit tomorrow, everything flashed in a blur. The final mirage of dusk clouded my thoughts.

Endings are beautiful.

And I jumped.

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