Who Can It Be Knocking At My Doors ?
The knocking at the door seemed to be distant sound from some other world. It took some time for her as she came out of her trance like a diver jumping out of the depths and desperately craving for the extra air in the lungs. That interval must have infuriated the visitor, for the knocking had now gone up the decibel level. It was no longer a gentle polite knock but harsh banging determined to throw off the hinges.
With all the curtains drawn across the windows the room was dark enough for guesswork to succeed in finding out the time. She tried to look at the watch to check out what time it was only to remember that the battery had died out only last night. Groping for her slippers with her legs and the switch with her hands she was able to find both of them simultaneously.
"Who is it there........”, she waited for a moment for the answer. There was no response except for the banging. May be just to stop the intruder from breaking in she added intuitively "Hold it for a moment".
As she let out the words fly her lips, she realized that her mouth was both dry and sour. It always tastes like this when you wake up, till the daily rubbing of the toothpaste washes away the acrid taste. She paused for a moment to get a glass of water, but then heard the banging which was even louder and decided to attend the visitor first.
She was rushing down towards the main hallway when she was noticed the wall clock showing that it was half past two in the night. "Who can it be knocking at my doors", she thought these exact words just to remember a long forgotten song with the same lyrics. Instantly the blurry music from the song was ringing at the back of her head. She tried to remember the rest of the lines.
She kept on asking "Who's there....who is it..." without another human voice answering her among the repeated thuds on the door frame. The rest of the 2 minutes brisk walk to the door was only speculation of the identity of the unknown visitor.
Could it be the guy who dumped her couple of months back without any reason, even though she was expecting one from the already dead relationship? Could it be in a drunken mood he finally realized that he still misses her and decided to come back to her in the middle of the night? But then why didn't he answer her....intoxication and shyness doesn’t glue well....and the violent banging was the last thing a returned lover would retort to.
Could it be someone trying to harm her, like a strangler in pursuit of his next victim? Or may be it could be some homeless junkie in need of cash for the next dope. But surely no psychopath in whatever demented state he might be would be idiot enough to wake up the whole neighborhood before crashing in. May be somebody is asking for her help.
Maybe someone with a broken down car wants to dial for the pick-up van from her house. And then she realized that whoever it might be, whatever the visitor's intention could be, she shouldn't be caught unguarded. It’s time to look for the weapon nearest at hand.
Where did I leave my pepper spray....damn it is in my handbag...and where did I leave the handbag? It is in the bedroom, she remembered. But by the time she would complete a trip back to her bedroom the doors would be knocked down from the frames. Let me grab the flower vase on the table and open the door, she thought as she stretched her hand towards it.
Nearly at the same moment the door burst open to let two strong men with boxes looking like first-aid kit rushing towards her bedroom. They were running as if they were racing against time and didn't even bother to look at her. Furious she started screaming at the two intruders while she followed them to their destination, her bedroom. Surprisingly not a single moment they even looked over their shoulder and caste a glance at her.
She confronted her unwelcome guests who were panting for breath and looking hopelessly at her bed. She let out a shrill cry as she collapsed down with the chilly hollowness enveloping her. The rest of the lyrics came back with a flash when she realized that lying on her bed was her own body.
“Is it the man come to take me away?
Why do they follow me?
It's not the future that I can see,
It's just my fantasy…………..”
With all the curtains drawn across the windows the room was dark enough for guesswork to succeed in finding out the time. She tried to look at the watch to check out what time it was only to remember that the battery had died out only last night. Groping for her slippers with her legs and the switch with her hands she was able to find both of them simultaneously.
"Who is it there........”, she waited for a moment for the answer. There was no response except for the banging. May be just to stop the intruder from breaking in she added intuitively "Hold it for a moment".
As she let out the words fly her lips, she realized that her mouth was both dry and sour. It always tastes like this when you wake up, till the daily rubbing of the toothpaste washes away the acrid taste. She paused for a moment to get a glass of water, but then heard the banging which was even louder and decided to attend the visitor first.
She was rushing down towards the main hallway when she was noticed the wall clock showing that it was half past two in the night. "Who can it be knocking at my doors", she thought these exact words just to remember a long forgotten song with the same lyrics. Instantly the blurry music from the song was ringing at the back of her head. She tried to remember the rest of the lines.
She kept on asking "Who's there....who is it..." without another human voice answering her among the repeated thuds on the door frame. The rest of the 2 minutes brisk walk to the door was only speculation of the identity of the unknown visitor.
Could it be the guy who dumped her couple of months back without any reason, even though she was expecting one from the already dead relationship? Could it be in a drunken mood he finally realized that he still misses her and decided to come back to her in the middle of the night? But then why didn't he answer her....intoxication and shyness doesn’t glue well....and the violent banging was the last thing a returned lover would retort to.
Could it be someone trying to harm her, like a strangler in pursuit of his next victim? Or may be it could be some homeless junkie in need of cash for the next dope. But surely no psychopath in whatever demented state he might be would be idiot enough to wake up the whole neighborhood before crashing in. May be somebody is asking for her help.
Maybe someone with a broken down car wants to dial for the pick-up van from her house. And then she realized that whoever it might be, whatever the visitor's intention could be, she shouldn't be caught unguarded. It’s time to look for the weapon nearest at hand.
Where did I leave my pepper spray....damn it is in my handbag...and where did I leave the handbag? It is in the bedroom, she remembered. But by the time she would complete a trip back to her bedroom the doors would be knocked down from the frames. Let me grab the flower vase on the table and open the door, she thought as she stretched her hand towards it.
Nearly at the same moment the door burst open to let two strong men with boxes looking like first-aid kit rushing towards her bedroom. They were running as if they were racing against time and didn't even bother to look at her. Furious she started screaming at the two intruders while she followed them to their destination, her bedroom. Surprisingly not a single moment they even looked over their shoulder and caste a glance at her.
She confronted her unwelcome guests who were panting for breath and looking hopelessly at her bed. She let out a shrill cry as she collapsed down with the chilly hollowness enveloping her. The rest of the lyrics came back with a flash when she realized that lying on her bed was her own body.
“Is it the man come to take me away?
Why do they follow me?
It's not the future that I can see,
It's just my fantasy…………..”
Oh my god!!! Am still scared....but it was good!!!
Posted by
Aparna |
August 29, 2006 8:02 PM
Aparna,thanks for the compliment,although I feel that the narration could have been better.Yet appreciation from people like you creates an urge within me to write more.But then my laziness has its own ways.BTW when is the next dance session?Will visit your blog for updates.
Posted by
Chilla-Bong |
August 30, 2006 6:47 PM
why do you only write about death? Its kind of unsettling.
Posted by
M (tread softly upon) |
August 31, 2006 12:03 AM
echoing m, why the fascination with death?
Posted by
jhantu |
August 31, 2006 10:49 AM
@M:Your question reminds about a story I read long time back.SaratChandra was reading a gripping story by Premankur Atarthi.As he was going through the twisted-n-tangled plot, as a writer he was anxious to know how Premankur will untangle the complicated story-line.To his surprise the story ended with the death of the main character due to snake bite.When SC asked PA why did the character die that way,PA said "Don't people die of snake bites ?".SC smilingly said "Yes they do,but not to save the writer" :)
Posted by
Chilla-Bong |
August 31, 2006 3:03 PM
@Jhantu: I guess the partial damange to my brain was done by two Js' works : Jibananda and Jim Morrison.While the latter introduced me to the "Ghosts crowd(ing)the young child's fragile eggshell mind" the former instilled the "Bipponno Bishmoy".Ever since I am trying to complete the damage cycle.
Posted by
Chilla-Bong |
August 31, 2006 3:12 PM
You write quite eloquently and probably do not need your main character to die to save you from finishing off your story. I enjoyed reading this. except the twist at the end left me feeling very chilly and unsettled. How about a nice happy ending, mushy and romantic for your next one?
Posted by
M (tread softly upon) |
August 31, 2006 11:01 PM
@M:Thanks for the compliment.The chill and unsettling end was a part of the design.Surely with you insisting,I would try my hands at Karan Johar's terrain barring the litres and litres of glycerine.Planning to watch my all time fav of romantic movies "When Harry Met Sally" tonight.Have a nice weekend.
Posted by
Chilla-Bong |
September 01, 2006 7:32 PM
although I feel that the narration could have been better.
I didn't notice, becuase all I wanted was to get to the end...now on re-reading, I felt, maybe when you were writing, you felt the same, the urge to bring in the twist...when the end is a shake up, everyone forgets the narration about her journey to the door and the confusions.
Btw, leave Karan-johar type writings to me, else what will I blog about? Everything else is too difficult...
Posted by
Aparna |
September 04, 2006 3:14 PM
Aparna,thanks for reading between the lines.However if you read the lyrics you'll find the lines "It's just my fantasy…………”. To answer your question it was a bad bad nightmare that she had.Does that explains the inconsistencies like putting on the lights and then finding her slippers.And I must admit for 3hrs KJo usually have me glued to the screen with all the gorgeous sets.But the moment the credits roll on,the logical part of my brain kicks in and I start ranting.Then again I am yet to see KANK.That could be a totally different experience alltogether.
Posted by
Chilla-Bong |
September 04, 2006 6:05 PM