The jolt was like a crack in the pavement and I, day after day, tripped over that very same crack.
It was HER who did it...she was the one who got me out. Not even I could manage the lungs' right functioning.
Yet, she just entered the classroom, at a slow pace.
The boys were gazing, the same way leeches do when they attach themselves to your leg in the murky water. I was immobilized.
And then I noticed my mom by the door together with the principal. My stomach reacted with a strange flip-flop.
The girl focused on me, penetratingly, as if I were a dirty window.
"Eryx. Office." The principal's voice rang with the finality of a door closing behind me.
My mom's expression was one of a closed book, the one that has a lock. I moved. All the eyes were on me, and I felt their gaze like glue.
I took my place on the red sofa that was rough to the touch. The smell that came to me was that of stagnant dust mixed with disillusionment.
The principal's face was smiling but his pupils were fierce little dots. "How is Eryx?" he wanted but was not asking me.
My mother glanced my way. The look in her eyes was saying what her lips were not: Please. Sorry. I don't know.
"Mrs. KC," the principal said as he was turning. Brownish and shaped like an island, he had a coffee stain on his tie.
"Absences. Too many. I am fed up. I have three times tried to get this boy motivated. Three times."
He pronounced 'three' as if it were a heavy boulder.
My mother went down with her head. "I'm sorry, sir. Never again. He will never—"
"Fourth time Mrs. KC." The principal let out a big sigh. He shifted in his chair which made it squeak.
"Don't feel bad. It is not your fault. But it is your responsibility. The reason he is like this? You. Parenting mistakes."
"Sorry sir, sorry, sorry," her voice was that of a tiny mouse.
He opened the folder with a bang. The paper was discolored and old. "See. This is his record."
My mom wept, not loud, but her shoulder quaked.
He regarded me with absolute contempt, as if I were a slug on his clean floor. Then he turned to her and spoke gently.
"Mrs. KC, I empathize with you. But your son? He does not comprehend."
There I was sitting. Nothing else besides that. I was simply a hollow tree, a shell.
Their talking could be approximated with either decades or just a couple of minutes.
Finally, he pronounced it all in a loud voice. "Restriction. Ten more absences this year? Expelled. Finished."
My mother who was still crying said in a whisper, "Thank you, sir."
Thank you. That sounded like a dull and lifeless thump hitting my already hollow chest.
"Go to class."
So, I did.
The corridor was long and its floor tiles were arranged like a checkerboard. Then I thought: Why am I looking for an answer that is already hiding? Is it my doing or does someone else want it so badly?
A tiny voice, in my head, which was mine but not mine, asked, "Who even are you?"
Stopped on the way. My shoelace was untied. I didn't know. Should I dig around inside me to discover, or just be... this? This empty feeling.
Back to class. "May I come in?"
The teacher nodded, and her bangles made a clink sound.
I seated. An alien. They were all looking at me. Like leeches again. But this time, even her.
She was looking too. Her eyes were not piercing now. They were plain, similar to a whiteboard that has been wiped clean.
The last bell rang. It was a scream of freedom. I ran away even if I didn't know from what.
It was just my legs that did it. The schoolbag on my back was thumping against me.
I entered a small hotel with a sign saying "Shree Krishna Hotel," half of which was broken.
Bought a bottle of local liquor. Drank it. It tasted like a combination of medicine and fire.
There was a man about thirty-two years old. His shirt collar had a loose thread. He was looking at my hands.
"Boy, why are you shaking? Is anything wrong?"
"No... nothing... uhh." I was gazing. I felt no anxiety but there was a no-map situation.
I know that the world is a big empty question mark. Nonetheless—fear. A cold spot in the stomach area.
He sighed very deeply and as if he was very tired.
"I had a son. Perhaps he was your age. He was... wise in the spirit. One time he saw a man dying in the street accident. People just standing there as if they were watching the TV. My son... he did move. He took the man and carried him and ran to the hospital. The man died. Right there in his arms."
The man was fixated on the sticky table, not on me at all.
"Police showed up. The family came. The accused got all the blame. 'You moved him! Your running made him vibrate! You were the reason for his death!' The case. Political ramifications. Jail for five hours. Only five hours. But for him…it was an eternity. He found a rope after a month."
The man's voice was empty, just like my heart.
I didn't speak. My tongue felt like a fish that had been dumped and left to die.
Eventually, I managed to say, "I am... sorry."
He negated with a gesture of his hand. "Do not. Just... do not let it happen to you, too. The world... it is a complicated puzzle that lacks pieces."
Our conversation continued, the clock kept on ticking, and a fly was buzzing all the time around the window.
I narrated the story of the principal, the expression on my mom's face, and the leeches to him.
He shared with me his experiences at the ration shop, and the noise of the ceiling fan in his deserted house.
It was smooth. With strangers who will never be seen again, one can show their actual shadow.
With acquaintances, one has to put on a mask. But… what if you do not even know what your actual shadow looks like?
On my way back home, the streetlights were buzzing because of the insects.
Then I noticed her...on the bridge above the filthy river. The girl. Just there standing. Not a single movement.
Looking down at the dark water. It was not the ordinary kind of staring. It was a complete descent.
My heart was doing a weird clutching movement, like a hand was tightening.
The voice in my head said, "Walk away."
However, she did not pay attention to me.
But I could not move at all. A sensation like a low thunder in my bones told me, "Do not."
I inhaled deeply. The smell in the air was that of fish and diesel.
I moved nearer. The sound of my shoes on the gravel was like a whisper.
"Hey..." My voice broke. "Are you... alright?"