Fiction: The Oracle of Silent Days

By Abhirup Das
Her Quiet Burial

The black shadow of death had slithered away into the darkness of the night. A veil of pallor had lightly fallen over her beautiful face, she seemed so alive, but the frigid sheen of mortality had stolen her away…and then, she was gone…six feet into the deep…into a world from where there was no return. She had fluttered into my life like a butterfly in the winds of March, she was so delicate, so fragile…I was afraid to touch her for the fear that I might break her.

She was a lovely girl, and so she lived a life worth living for, a life worth dying for…she would sing me her lullabies, when sleep eluded my company, and now she is asleep…and I am still awake. She has gone beyond all existence, and I can’t hope to meet her once again.

My soul rages at the heavens, my heart is dying for her love. What a cruel destiny!…that a girl like her should die of cancer while sinners like me keep living our much accursed lives…to see our love slowly dying, to quietly see her melt away, to hear her words of strength and weakness…until she is able to speak no more…

Tonight, I feel a deep numbness down my heart…and the coldness catches up with me…in the middle of this scorching summer night. I don’t really know what to hold sacred anymore. Love is all I ever asked for, and my Gods took that away from me. Oh! What did I do to incur such wrath from the Heavens? Which heartless God knows no compassion…even for a sinful soul like me?

I am in despair; this darkness engulfs all the light of my universe. Yet I cannot cry; not even when my eyes are burning with grief. Or when my blood is freezing in my veins…No, I cannot cry. Who can console me, but death, today? Who can take my pain away? The sleeping pills take me into the forgetfulness of my dreams, where she lives with me. And each morning brings a sharp pang of reality; just as it renews the sunlight and the birdsongs…every dawn brings me a terrible heartache and nothing else…nothing else.

I roam through empty parks and streets when the day is dead and the night is old. Her memories return to haunt me…breaking me, and taking me, by surprise. Yet she is cold and motionless…she decays beneath the graveyard ground. I travel to new lands and I gaze at the sea, there’s just loneliness in each shore, and I lack her sweet serenity. Where are you, my nightingale? I call out to my own emptiness. I think that she’ll call out to me from beyond the beyond, but this time, there’s no reply.

In this overcrowded world, I am all alone. Alone, among the forests; alone, among the mountain trees; alone among the market streets…alone in a world of the living. I feel like Orpheus…who’d lost his lover Eurydice, and chased her to the depths of Hades’ Realm…and finding her he lost her again. I want to believe in fairytales, trust me; my greatest desire is a fantasy.

Do you want to hear me? It’s very…kind of you. No one cares about the barely living…not about their hunger, their grief or loss.

Until I waste my remaining days in my dreams of her memories…I will go on ranting. There is no remedy for this madness, except death, sweet death, which shall be my saviour, my own messiah to shepherd me, from this world of untold misery.
I scream at the world:
“Who am I to deviate from God’s will? I cannot change the past, and that is not my desire, I want to change the future…I want her back in my life…take my sorrow or take my life. Return me those days of love, when I held her…her skin…so soft against mine…my bones are strong, they can withstand what my heart cannot…it is broken…it is shattered…is there a way to fix it?

Do I ask for success? Or lust? Or wealth? All I ask for is my lost love…is that too much I ask? Return me my bride! Bring her back from paradise! I seek not her love, I seek not her virginity…all I seek is her company.”

My soul is torn but I can’t be shattered, for the hands of God have pulverised me.

Only silence calls back from the wilderness.

Posted in Fiction.

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