Unvoiced Phrases ( Construction On Process)

Chapter 1

Vinay Ahluwalia

For a moment, I lost consciousness and let my body fall into the chasm of the eerie darkness around me. I stumbled upon the barricade which stood between me and the stadium entrance. The Stadium arch stood magnificently before me, lit with neon electronics. The early morning cold crept underneath my thin layer of clothing. I looked at the stadium, awe-struck. What may seem so close by one day might be so far away another day. Five years ago, I'd call this place home. But today this place sent chills up my spine. My legs shook in shivers, not because of the cold but the spook of this place. It was creepy. I managed to ignore this place in my life and never come back here. I even swore on my life. But this morning I was prepared to face the fear and it was not working too well. The heavy rucksack on my back, made my shoulder ache in agony. I should have taken a rickshaw from the railway station. But somehow my messed-up mind, compelled me to walk home, in the route I've ignored for at least five years. I unfastened the rucksack belt and placed the rucksack on the wall next to the arch. I checked my watch, it was around six.

The stadium workers were busy watering the turf. I walked in with sloppy steps. It seemed like it was world of another being. The tranquillity shook me by shock. Words of cheers and applause echoed in my brain. I bent down near the athletic track and let my coarse fingers feel the track. I was fighting hard to hold my tears back. Hastily I rushed out of the stadium before anyone could spot me and gathered my belongings and left the place as fast as my stiff legs could carry me.

The phone in my trouser pocket started jolting in vibration. I took the phone out. It was my mom. I answered the call ASAP, worrying about the panic attack my mother would undergo if I delayed picking up the call. She asked me if she could send a cab to pick me up but I assured her that I was on the way and she need not worry about it. Pity my mother, she still treated me like a ten-year-old, forgetting the fact that her son had grown a revered-Punjabi beard and he was turning twenty-four next month. I enjoyed being back in my home place. Five years in college and finally returned home. Cool breeze swept across me. The city was wrapped in fog's colour. Snug in tees, I walked home. My footsteps stirred the hibernating dogs along the road side.

I was excited to see my parents. My mother was the loveliest creature God has ever created. She was a petite woman. She used to be a teacher before I was born. She quit her career to take care of me. I've always felt guilty for this. I guess, no mother could do such a sacrifice for her child like mine did. Her smile cheered me up. She spread warmth around her. No one could be harsh with her. She put our well-being before anything. She was the ray of hope in the contour of darkness.

My dad was a strict man. He symbolised terror and was an epitome of anger personification. At least that was what he decided to show to people. One's superficial gaze apparently shall fail to see the real him.

He was a warm-hearted man. At times, His temper overpowers him, that is all the weakness he's got. Nevertheless, he is the most supportive father, one could have ever got. He let me choose how I needed my life to be. Though he was uneducated, he gave me perfect guidance whenever I stood flabbergasted. Little did my parents know that I always betrayed them. Little did they know they could expect anything but nothing from their poor sickening child.

I skimmed around my surroundings, taking in details. I was surprised to see how much; the city had changed in recent times. In a narrow lane, stood my house. It was painted crimson without much dichotomy from others. Mom stood outside, wearing a huge grin on her face. As I neared her, it turned to a scowl.

'Why didn't you take a rickshaw or a cab? Walking alone at this unearthly hour.' She sighed in a so-called anger.

'Ma, I wanted to walk. The train journey exhausted......' I stopped myself, rephrasing my words, 'My legs were numb from sitting all the way from Mumbai. It needed a good exercise.'