Destroying Myself (Myself #3)

15. The Wound I Suture

[   N I S H A  '  S     P O V   ]

Two tall buildings sat opposite to each other; each wearing its own beauty and elegance. My head turned to the right, swallowing the white church situated in the middle of the ground, surrounded by vast expanse of what seem like freshly cut grass and cluster of people. While I was gazing at one church, Rahul and Harshit struck their eyes to another. Reddish brown church with artwork that was faded with time, and it looked like it was on verge of falling into pieces of its own making.

People were going out of one church and scurrying back to another. My lips formed a cruel smirk, looking at the cameras in their hand, the poses they made, the snapping that happened. Rare would be those who came here for the God, most for the pictures.

"Old Goa, huh? And Church?" Harshit asked from behind. "That's what the fuss was about?"

Ignoring him, Rahul wore his glasses and died down the ignition.

"I thought it was a bar. Thanks for clearing my confusion." I slapped Rahul's hand for playing his sarcasm again. We both knew Harshit didn't get sarcasm easily. Well, he had low IQ for that.

"I'm not going." I leaned my head at the back, kicked the slippers off my feet and folded the legs on the seat. "You both go, do whatever you want and come back soon."

"What's with you now? You love all this stuff."

"Will you both excuse me?" Before I could reply, Harshit thrashed open the car door and ran out of it in hurry. Our eyes remain struck at the disappearing figure of his, going where I had no idea about but for what he was going that I was aware of.

A hard and rough gripped mine and squeezed it lightly. "Why don't you want to go? You pray and you believe. Or is it because of a Church? You want to go to a temple?"

"Oh, shut up." I snatched my hand away from his grip. "I'm not the devil you make me. I just don't believe in God anymore."

His mouth parted, shock plastered in his eyes and fingers twitched. Not able to handle it, I changed my gaze to the white church, gazing at the people, wondering what would be inside it. Were the dead bodies of father was still there? Were we allowed to candle the lights now? Was anything at all?

"You pray."

"I used to." I leaned my head against the window. "I used to pray everyday, asking Gods—any God—to give me the freedom, to make my life better, to let me make my own decision." I heaved a heavy breath. "I prayed the whole week, asking to change the news and say some survivors were left. And at last, they didn't listen. Kabir burned nothing. I saw nothing. I believed in them so much and what did they do? Took away my everything. What's the point of praying and believing when he doesn't listen at all?"

Shutting my eyes in a close lid, I grind my teeth together. "So Mr. Khanna, I'm done with all those stuff. Believing disappoints."

He didn't say anything, just the opening the seat belt echoed in the car and he left me alone, muttering he would be back in some minutes. Biting my lip, I saw his back walking inside the gateway of the church, his feet walking through the pavement as Harshit joined him, and took his phone out to take the picture but Rahul ignored him and walked inside the gate cut through in the middle of the building.

After what seem like fifteen minutes, they both appeared again, and didn't bother to go to the next church but settled in the car, joining me and my loneliness.

I stared at their faces in bewilderment. "What? Other church?"

"I've seen that. Pray in any Church. All that matter is praying. Why go to another to pray again?" With that, Rahul swirled the car out of the parking, and the tapping sound played against the window.