I

I decide to walk to the station instead of hailing a cab. I agree I do carry a heavy load but that’s all right, I’ve become so used to this baggage that it doesn’t hurt me anymore. I feel like it has become a part of me of late and to admit the truth, there is something spectacular about ambling along the alley and absorbing the bustle of the market place that makes you forget you’re carrying a rather uncomfortable burden. I haven’t lived a long life, thirty-five is just a start if you ask me, but whatever wonderful time I’ve spent in my village for half of my life, nothing comes even near in comparison with how a big city can make you feel. I love the pompousness and glitterati that can make one feel important. I am important.

I have about a few hundred rupees left in my pocket and more than an hour left to reach the station. I am sweating profusely and my back is soaked. I think part of the problem, apart from the baggage, is also this tight fitting dress; darn thing sticks to me like gum. I wish I could buy something better and change somewhere but that doesn’t sound like a good idea. I would waste too much time in selecting one and by the time I am done selecting in a big city like this, the train would have left. I wish I’d been early. I am early.

I don’t like people who talk loud. I also don’t like people who stare at me like I am about steal their food. I am not a village idiot to not understand city mannerisms. I drink and eat without spilling, walk without stomping, talk without spitting, shit without stinking and lie without blinking. I am everything and anything they’d like me to be and they still think I am not. I walk past them like I don’t exist while I am still in all flesh and blood. I want to scream at them but I don’t want to. I scream within me. I am silence.

I stand in the middle of the crowd and there is a lot of tension when the train arrives. I am on time. I push my way through the throng and now stand in the middle of the compartment. I don’t think they understand how important I am to them and vice versa, else there is no reason why they’d be here with me. I wish to share how glad I was to be the one who’d absolve them of their mediocrities, limited as they can be in number. I decide that such a parting speech would only scatter the herd than form one. I foresee a time when they’d wonder who was responsible among them and they’d know it was me because I was the only one who was important, early and most of all silent in this ever so noisy compartment. I am I.

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2 thoughts on “I

  1. Love it! The story hasn’t lost its charm or mystique despite a second read. Nice way of starting every sentence with “I”, and also, nicer that you haven’t mentioned what exactly was going to happen.

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