'google658fd05d77029796.html' The Curious Girl: Chapter 2 | The Original Poetry




                   
continued from part 1

                     It was about the midnight when my sleep was disturbed as I felt someone brushing the hand on my chest. It got me scared like hell as I woke up immediately, throwing the veil of white sheet off my face in a flash.

‘I am not able to sleep. Can I talk to you?’ For my greatest surprise, it was the same crazy girl from the middle bed of the ward, asking me for a talk in the middle of the night.

‘What?’ I whispered with bewilderment as I looked around to see if anyone else was seeing. Humiliation was the last thing I was yearning for! Qayoom bhai was blessed with a death like sleep, and all I could hear in the dreadful silence of the ward was the snores that he was producing so effortlessly.

‘Please, I will go after sometime.’ She pleaded again, looking at me with those big enigmatic eyes of her.
‘Sister will go mad if she sees us talking in this hour of the night’, I reasoned to her, not able to work out myself whether that was a lead for a hesitant yes, or a courteous no.

‘I will slip under your bed sheet, and I’ll speak in low voice’, She said to me without any perceptible change of expressions.

‘What?’ All the residual fibers of sleep crawling leisurely across my disoriented brain dissolved at once. I clearly did not know what to say to that.

‘Please’, she arched her eyebrows just a wee bit as she requested me again.

‘Okay’, I was clueless about what was going on, and what should be done in such a situation. I conceded to her request nevertheless. I still don’t know what drove me to do so.

She immediately jumped on my bed from the left side which was towards the wall as she lay on the bed beside me under the cover of what I called as a predecessor of coffin, my white bed sheet! She was just far enough from me to manage not to touch me, but close enough to make me run for a zone of comfort.

‘Are your comfortable?’ She asked, lying in a side on position, and gazing straight into my eyes. I wasn’t sure if she mocked me by saying that, but she didn’t look like doing it.

‘I am comfortable’, I answered firmly, trying my situational best to sound as genuine as possible. I didn’t know whether she inquired about physical or mental discomfort, but as far as I was concerned, ‘no’ should have been the answer to both the questions. But for some remotely unknown reason, I did not say so. ‘What did you want to talk?’ I asked her gently.

‘What will you do if you get to know that you will die in few days?’

‘What?’ She surprised me yet again. Not that the question was alien to me, but it was just that I didn’t expect her to ask this so forthrightly. ‘You are not going to die. Are you?’ I said to her in order to avoid the question I had no answer for.

‘Of course I am’, she said with minimum fuss and absolutely no, what they call as, buildup!

‘What?’ She kept on playing with my, what I believed as, sane mind. ‘How do you know?’

‘I heard doctors speaking to each other.’

‘How long you got?’ I was counting my life on my fingers myself, so that was always going to be a relevant question as far as I was concerned. When you are dying, somehow, you get better at Math’s!

‘Doctors aren’t sure themselves, due to the complicated and unknown nature of my disease. One of them proposes a six to eight months prediction’, she said in her usual straight faced demeanor.

‘What about others?’ I don’t know why I would ask that!

‘They don’t guarantee a six days life with conviction.’
I was puzzled to see the ease with which she spoke her mind, free from any shackles of fear. ‘Aren’t you scared?’ I asked her out of my own curiosity, which I suppose was far less in magnitude than she was endowed with.

‘How do you get scared?’ She asked wearing the expressions of wonder, the only ones she had.

‘Oh my God!’ I heaved a deep breath. Predictability was the last thing one could associate with her. She continued to shake me to the core, reminding me simultaneously that I was talking to the furniture, with just one layer of expression painted on its surface - curiosity, bordered by a bit of wonder. ‘You must be wary of being dead’, I rephrased my question to her, with the hope that she will pick the clue.

‘Oh, I am absolutely looking forward to it’, she said. There was this childlike twinkle in those big curious eyes of hers, and I would be lying if I say that I was not falling for them.

‘What?’ She shocked me with every single word she said. A beautiful girl sleeping beside me, uttering the most inexplicable things of life with minimal set of expressions; I couldn’t believe it was happening indeed.  ‘What did you say you are looking forward to?’ I asked her yet again, just in case I heard it wrong!

‘Death’, she was as certain as the product she was talking about. The simplicity and ease with which she said that turned my life upside down. I asked myself whether it was the same thing that I feared every single moment of my life from the time I was diagnosed. I begun to question my life, rather than my death as was the case till now. Was I using the rest of my life to mourn my death? I didn’t have the answers.

‘Why you look forward to it?’ I asked her curiously, trying to search my own answers within the range of one and a half expressions that she possessed. My uneasiness had gone. She had jolted me with her simplicity, however pathologic it was.

‘Why?’ I asked restlessly. I couldn’t wait to hear. It was like God had come to me Himself.

‘To know’, she replied instantly. The two words she said seemed to be the goal of her life. It was puzzling why there was this unmistakable certainty in the way she was uncertain about things!

‘What is to know about it?’ I could only wonder.

‘What happens thereafter? I want to know that. I wonder if there is another life, may be of a different kind, or I may get a chance to sit beside God, or to meet my Mom, make friends with the angels, or I might be able to feel there. I keep wondering when I think about the possibilities that seem to be endless.’
It was not what she said per se, but the way that she said it struck me like a thunderbolt. It was beyond doubt that she actually believed in those so called endless possibilities. Though I didn’t believe in her, but looking into those big black eyes of her, I couldn’t resist the temptation of wanting to believe in her. There was something about her that was so mesmerizingly convincing.

‘Will you make me fall in love?’ She said with the same gentle ease and candour, not even caring to blink those big eyes.

‘What do you mean?’ I was shocked! It was getting beyond my mind now, as it had begun to churn my soul. It was strange, as real like a nightmare, and as unreal like a dream! There was only one thing I was sure about, the more I talked to her, the less I knew of her.

‘I have come to know during my life time that love is the closest it can get to being blessed. I want to feel the love before I die and get blessings from the God.’
‘How can I do that?’ I wondered. ‘Doctors say you can’t feel anything.’

‘Please.’ She placed her left hand on my shoulder as she tried to peer deep into my eyes. There was such unadulterated innocence and honesty in her touch that it not only stirred the length and breadth of my body with the whole array of its emotions, but it thoroughly melted my heart with its omnipotent whirlwind, cleansing my scars with its love, washing my soul with its exemplary warmth. It was strange how the touch of someone who could not feel more than one and a half emotions stormed me with a tornado of emotions.

And I just helplessly gave in to her. That was the moment! A moment I realized that my life was no longer mine, it belonged to her. I was touched by a power that could not be human. It had to be something more powerful; may be love, for it felt no less than a blessing.

‘Let me tell you a story’, I said to her, turning my body to her side, caressing my hands through her forehead. It did not feel like the first time to me. She felt so much of my own, like it was just another night that I was talking to her. All the doubts clouding my mind had been drenched away. I was never so sure about my life, never so happy with myself, and death, it was no longer a threat to me.

I did not know how I will ever make her feel my love. So I began my pursuit with the one and a half feelings that she could feel, a world of curiosity mixed with a bit of wonder. The night was not dark to me anymore, for I was shimmering with an unknown yet definite brightness. I was ready for a journey that was so full of life, beginning from this very moment. And I started telling her all the interesting stories that I had ever heard, looking deep into her eyes as they grew in wonder, appreciating the faintest of changes in expressions, brushing my hand gently across her cheek, pampering her like a child of mine, wondering if she could feel even a single drop of the ocean that had taken my life for the ride of a lifetime.
She endured for two or three of my stories before she went deep into the realm of sleep. I kept watching her as she slept beside me, with her hand still placed firmly on my shoulder, and my love for her grew only larger by the night, evoking hundreds of smiles that continued to defy all the reasons I never cared to think about.

I gently placed her on her bed before the first ray of light could strike the world. It was a new life that was about to begin for me. So I lay on my bed with a content smile, immersed in the swirling tempest of love, driving my way to my newly found dream world with the first stroke of sunlight.

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The Curious Girl: Chapter 3

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