Quaint Days

Room Number 708

I felt someone shaking my body heavily. I opened my eyes, someone with a well-built body stood right over my head, looking at me as if he was expecting something from me. It was Sharman. He asked, "Are you okay, Samar? Are you fine?"

I said, "Yeah, I am good. What happened?"

"You were out for some hours, so we were frightened. What exactly happened to you?"

"That I fear, I should be asking you instead you ask me. Maybe I was dreaming or maybe this is a dream. I don't know, really!"

"I don't know too. You were just, you know, not here, but maybe somewhere else. You could move, you could come with us, but you could not see or feel anything, I think. Just like sleepwalking. So where were you?"

"At home. Chuck. Before I went off, I asked you something. What crime did I do? Tell me please."

"Are you sure you're okay? Like I mean that I think you are unwell. The day you came here, from that day on, you seem quaint. Like not normal. You act the same way as you were today. You don't talk much and yeah, that pretty much explains everything about you. Herein jail, no one gives a fuck about anyone else. So no-one cares."

"You know what, just tell me what I have done, so that in some corner of my heart, I would not be guilty of some wrongdoing. PLEASE!"

"Okay! You have....uhh...you have....raped and....and murdered a woman."

"You are kidding, right? I can't do this, never!" I spoke hoping that he denies his above statement.

"No, I ain't! That is the truth. And this confirms that you need a doctor. You are unwell. You don't remember your crimes. God bless his soul and forgive him for his sins!"

"I might be framed. This is not the truth. How can I.....rape? And never can I kill someone....No! This is just a bad dream. This is merely a nightmare and I won't be scared anymore, not of this subtle thing."

"You know, friend, I can just sympathize you and no more. The day you came here, back in May, you were the same- Out of your senses! But dude that may be an attention-seeking technique in your college or so, but here in jail, no one gives a shit about it. You've got to know this as soon as you can. If you want any more help, you can just shout my name from the corner of your cell toward the next cell. I'll be there!"

He left and I was still lying still on my stone bed in my very own cell. I had raped and murdered someone. Who was she? I don't even know her name or her face or her height or her anything...I just know that I haven't. Anyway, this is just a dream. It shall pass. I have to wake up now. I heard someone treading toward me. This time it was not Sharman. He was a pale man, thin to the extent that I could see the wooden bat behind him. He inched closer, held his position, took his arm in a swaying motion, from rear to front and just toward me. It hit my head, hard. And within seconds, my head started bleeding and I was wounded heavily. I went unconscious. I fell down.

I was lying flat in my bedroom, my head was paining like hell. I couldn't find any blood drops on my head. I just felt the slowly unravelling thrust increasing steadily and for a reason, maybe. One never knows things that can happen in a dream. Can one die in a dream? Maybe, I died in that dream, so I broke the dream.

Dr.Raman was peeping at me. He found I am alive, his breath returned. He checked my pulse. He took my arm in the air and just left it, maybe to check if I have strength left in me or not. "Thank God! You're safe! Your mom was praying for you since you were out. Where had you been?" asked a curious doctor.

"Yeah, yeah. Thank God! This time your blow was really hard. It's still paining!" said a virtually-injured me.

"I don't get what you mean. Please rest. You should. You're tired a bit. I'll call your mom."