Ward Number – 6

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When he first noticed me, I was on the floor, adorned with mud, stinking and perspiring. Extending his hand, he scrutinised me with unwavering eyes, a thin smile plastered on his face. I grasped his hand and got up. A quiver shot up my spine and I was startled. He gaped at me, and this made my heart flutter. Not looking back, I scampered home as fast as I could, my heart pounding in my chest. I couldn’t explain what I felt. I pulled out my diary and picked up a pen. As I wandered in the aisles of my thoughts, I recalled past impressions and memories of him.

 

Retrieving myself from the deep trance my brain was in, I placed my pen on the blank paper but I was devoid of words. I couldn’t fathom my emotions or put my thoughts into words. I glanced at my diary and focused on the smudged dot which had marked its territory on the white page. Frustrated, I threw the pen away, immediately followed by the diary. As I lay on my bed, my thoughts wandered back to him, again.

 

I thought of his face: it seemed so real in my imagination. He was handsome. He was just not any ordinary guy; someone you wouldn’t miss in a crowd: fair, lean, impressively tall, a hint of a beard on the contours of his face and his hair tousled. His eyes, brown orbs, coruscated in the dim light.

 

I slept soundly after scribbling a single line on my diary’s page, “I can’t write anything.”

 

Here I am now, sitting by his side, looking at him. A lot had changed since then, he was bald, there were dark bags under his eyes, his face was wrinkled and he didn’t have the manliness of his earlier days.

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It was the very same date, just two years later.  I sobbed quietly and pulled out my diary and tried to describe him. Again, my mind was filled with imagination but I was out of words. I wrote the same line over again, “I can’t write anything.” The only difference was, I was out of words because I was jubilant then, and I am out of words, because I am in the dumps now.

 

I looked away with teary eyes. I could vaguely make out words on the board on the door that read, “Cancer Ward No. 6”

 

~ Sreevani Gunda  | Edited by Farrokh

 

 


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