The Uninteresting Story

Prologue

Woke up upside down, woke up into a dream. Unsure whether or not it'll be a nightmare or a bliss, only thing that made sense was, it was real. The bed was moist of sweat and the sheet felt like a Velcro holding me onto it. I got off the bed, with an amazement and a fear of living like everything had turned exactly opposite of what it is supposed to be, like some first-person game in a world with different physics, or played with screen upside-down. It took exactly 17 steps to reach the basin and a little effort to let go off the fears and whatever it was I was holding and reach out for the toothbrush.

While the bristles went through the teeth contours, the stench of freshness filled up the nose and took away the morning sunshine. But it all went unnoticed, for the mind was shuffling through the anxiety of the day ahead. Big plans were in motion, and so the game of a badly wired brain. It has been long since such a hallucination came up, distorted sense of direction and gravity. Strong and lucid, like they all do every time they come forward. The voices were silent though, fear does that to them, every time a threat to survival comes up. This is different though, the realization that up is down is real and the best it can lead to will be me tumbling down the stairs. And the three long minutes of flushing the mouth with mint, sugar and foaming fluorides are over, finally! Rinsed and done, I turned and it dawned on me as they all started to laugh, some in slow gags and some in outbursts. The staircase was right in front of me and it didn't feel good.

And came the slowest of realization, the horrifying state of my being. I had to go down the stairs all the while feeling like going up and taking my growling fears further up. It would have been my hunger turning the insides on any regular day, but for now when everything was flipped, it was the sound of fear churning my insides.

Holding rails and trying not to fall down, the real or the realized directions, I barely made it to the lower level, when the only real refreshment greeted me with a smell of turmeric, chillies, spice mix (a very particular and familiar one), and some underlying aromas of moist flaked rice, fresh coriander and fried seeds. And with a kick of the most common breakfast in the central parts of this country, the day began, like many others' has but unlike.

If there is anything to be done today, it would be to survive. How, is the question. Lying in bed and keeping indoors is not an option. They won't understand, they never did, not even tried. Nor will anyone take it as an excuse, no one knows except the doctor, and no one should. Its just bad business to do business with not so normals. "Take a step forward, any step, just try" came a whispering voice. Unsure if it was a suggestion or a warning, my mind was set onto it.

Holding on to everything that can be held and relied upon, reached my bike. My bike, it had a thing, the thing that we often refer to as liberation. But it needs kickstarting to make it hum its anthem of liberty, but it is not an easy task, not in the morning of such winters, especially not today. One, two, and shit, it went dark for a moment. I could feel the rumble of the engine above me, and icy tarmac below. The sky below looked like a blue ocean, and between the road and my bike, I felt safe of not falling endlessly into it. I heard the rubber slapping the tarmac surface as someone rushed to help out, more slapping in the distance. A guy from the neighborhood came to rescue, pulled down the bike to a vertical as the distant steps closed in.

Enter a pretty face in the field of vision, a face that just can't be forgotten, I never did. But every time I came across it, it had something new, something fresh. Yet that was all it was, a face with many expressions and a name. Dark skinned with slight patches when looked at that close, still clear as the dusky winter sky, with the last glow of the twilight. Sharp yet fragile, high cheeks and hairs dark as the darkest of nights. It was beautiful. It would be soft to touch, smooth as water, but it is not in my power to touch. "Go ahead, why not" whispered another voice, "you can walk away with that right now." And I dared. Leaving the safety of sticking to the ground, my hand reached out to touch it as the hair fell on it. The back of the fingers glazed over the cheeks, and as if it stuck, a wrinkle moved along and a smile appeared. And I could swear, there was a slight blush behind the dark complexion.

She put her hands in mine and pulled it away, still smiling.

"You ohkay?" she whispered, "your hands are trembling, are you sure you alright!" as I nodded. And another, rougher and stronger hand took the other one of mine and pulled me up. And I was grateful, cause the pull took me through the veil of her hair, which had a slight smell of mint. I thanked them both, she smiled and he taunted. In those few moments of the touch, it didn't matter what was happening, whether or not I'll fall off on to the sky, delusions and reality didn't matter, it didn't mattered whether they were separate or the same. But it was a moment, a moment only. The truth of my perception didn't change, and it didn't hide behind those strands of dark hair and radiant skin, it just didn't matter.

And in the moment was I found, found by someone I would want to be found. But it all dissolved with the moment.

Pulled back into reality, it was my turn to explain. Two pairs of questioning eyes stared silently, waiting. One with concern as I met them, and another with doubt as mine panned past them. I looked up, "Nothing, I was distracted."

"And your hands?" with eyes wide with questions and beautiful, her's.

"What happened to your hands?" with his gaze shifting.

"Probably the adrenaline rush.." breaking contact from her eyes, and on to him "they were shaky."

"Better keep your hands and focus steady" a taunt, and he moved on.

I gathered all courage and got up, fearing I might dive into the sky under the distorted gravity. "Wouldn't you want to fly, boy!" whispered the second voice. These voices are everywhere around, so much that they don't let me listen to others that come from outside.

"You are always.. A FOOL" and a hysterical laugh, loud and clear.

"What?" turning to her.

"You are always so distracted"

"AND A FOOL"

"Am not" I answered them both, " it's just umm.. nothing, leave it."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Wouldn't you introduce us to her" whispered the laughing voice and broke into fits of laughter, "oh boy" more hysteria.

"Text me when you reach wherever you are going." she said.

"You trying to be our mother" exactly what I would have said like it but "I will" was all that came out.

And her gaze became more penetrating, she expected what that voice was saying. And it dawned on me, it is my own voice, my own response, my very own self inside me.

The bike was still humming and I had to get going, away from her gaze, away from the voices, away from myself. And so I switched gear and rode away into a direction I never knew existed, not in the way it seemed now.