1.
The stoppers of the glass windows in her bedroom had been broken for a long time and no one had bothered to fix them. Occasionally she would place a rock beside it to prevent it from hitting the walls and breaking. Like an intruder, a faint light from the arc lamp on the farther end of the road crept inside her room through that open window. It painted the walls a dim orange color, like that of a sunset. She was lying in her bed, waiting to fall asleep. When it got colder, Kamala decided to close those windows. As she leaned forward, the wind carried a few drops of rain and slapped them across her sleepy face. She hastily closed it and looked outside through the transparent glass. The trees were moving back and forth violently in the storm like someone helpless trying to free themselves from the clutches of a murderer.
Her eyes got lost in that dark and lonely street for a few seconds until they fell on a shadowy figure. Kamala could make out that it was a man. He was standing still in that cold, oppressive night as if he had been oblivious to his surroundings. She drew the curtains against the glass and went back to bed. "It has got to be some homeless person, but why would he be standing in the middle of the road and that too in the rain?" She thought as she wrapped herself in a woolen blanket. She tried to sleep, but the screams of the wind and the roar of the ocean kept her awake for a long time.
2.
Kamala woke up to the news of his death. Her mother's voice was breaking as she talked. It happened yesterday around noon in the turning near the church. It was a narrow-deserted road where huge vehicles were a rarity. The few cars and bikes that passed through this road were of the people who came to the church and they were usually in no hurry. The possibility of such a thing happening seemed almost impossible, but it happened. His bike was struck by a truck and he fell onto the tarred road hitting his head. He stood up immediately as if nothing had happened like he always did. The fruit seller who was a witness said that Hassan looked all right, that he wasn't bleeding, that he even talked. But after a few minutes, his eyes got blurry, he lost his balance and he fainted. He was rushed to the hospital but it was of no use.
3.
Kamala stood silently as her mother talked, but she refused to pay any attention to what was being said. It was as if the part of her brain that registered death had been broken. She had been thinking about cleaning her room, and today seemed like a great day to do it. She started by taking out the spiderwebs. Then she wiped the glasses of the mirror as well as that of the windows. She dusted the books on her table. Finally, she opened her cupboard and started folding her clothes. The old dresses were pushed aside and forgotten. Among those she found a pink skirt with flowers around the
borders, one of the dresses she wore when she was barely ten years old. Those old clothes had a dusty smell. She ran her hands through the dress she was wearing now. It was a plain, grey kurta that blended in with the colors of the walls of her room.
It took her the whole day to clean everything. When it was over, she threw herself onto the bed and looked at the ceiling fan. It was too tall for her to reach even when she stood on a table. So she left it as it was, dusty and dirty.
Kamala was trying to sleep, but like a slowly rising tide, the thought of Hassan occupied her mind. The night was calm, like an empty prayer hall. Still, she got out of bed to close those windows. As she got closer, she noticed a human figure towards the end of the road. His skinny arms and messy hair seemed familiar. It was not a homeless person; it was Hassan. He was standing near the street light, and it felt like he was waiting for someone.
She needed a minute to decide whether this was real or not. She wasn't afraid of him. It didn't matter whether he was alive or dead; fear was not an emotion she could associate with him. She thought about her childhood - a time when she wore that pink dress and ran around the beach chasing waves. They were friends back then. They spend their evenings after school and their summer holidays together, playing games and pranking their neighbors. Somewhere around that time, their worlds began to change. He was still the same boy that lived down the street, but things were different. They could no longer ride their bicycles or fly their kites together. He was a boy, and as a boy, he began to explore the world around him. She was a girl, and as a girl, her world became limited to her house. Even though they shared the same neighborhood, they grew apart. Little by little, they stopped talking to each other. Their friendship was now reduced to an occasional smile. Maybe that was why she wasn't sad that he died. He was already a memory for her, a ghost of her childhood.
4.
It was real. It was Hassan who was standing there, staring into emptiness as if he had lost his way. It felt like he was waiting for someone, and for some strange reason, she assumed that he was waiting for her. The cold weather wrapped her when she stepped outside her house. She was in the middle of the night, going to see someone who was already dead. It couldn't get any worse. As Kamala approached him, he turned around and looked at her. He was not how she pictured a ghost should be. His feet were touching the ground, his fingernails looked the same, and most importantly, he wasn't the least bit scary.
Kamala could sense that he was as surprised to see her as she was to see him. Both of them had the same bewildered look on their faces.
"How is that you can see me?" he asked.
She didn't know, how could she, all she knew was this not something that she was imagining. Back when she was still a kid they used to play in the ground near an old abandoned house. She used to come up with bizarre stories about that place. It had all kinds of ghosts and demons that she could imagine which would lead to both of them being scared.
It got to a point where they were afraid of going anywhere near that house, even the playground seemed horrifying. But that was back when she still believed in stories, when her imagination was not a slave of reality. This was why when she saw Hassan standing alone, she was sure that she had seen him cause she no longer made-up things in her mind.
5.
Kamal panicked for a moment when she saw a car moving at a distance. She was afraid that someone might find her outside at midnight. It wasn't the dark that scared her but the light from the street lamps and that of the approaching vehicle that could destroy her invincibility. The sharp light penetrated through the heavy darkness like a knife going inside of a bear's skin. She hid herself behind a tree.
"What are you doing here?" She asked him.
"I don't know, nothing makes any sense." He said softly, as if he was talking to himself. He walked farther away from the light and she followed him. When he reached the shore, he sat down, pressing his palm into the sand.
"I am as confused as you are. All I know is that I am dead and I know there is no going back but none of this makes any sense, it doesn't make any sense. It doesn't make any sense" he kept on saying as the waves came and went one after the other.
His orange shirt was visible in the moonlight, his hair looked messy but still suited his face. When a soft wind blew, it felt as if the trees around them were whispering. She sat next to him, not knowing what to say. They stared at the sea as each wave was desperately trying to hold onto the shore.
"Hassan was right", kamala thought. "His death did not make any sense. He was so very full of life- energetic and vibrant. In fact, he was the opposite of death."
She stared at the sea for a long time. She used to sit here with her dad before he went abroad looking for a better job. She had felt a heaviness in her heart when he left. When her grandmother passed away that heaviness was replaced by a void and now that Hassan is dead, she felt like the curtains of her childhood was closing forever.
"Staying here is painful but I can't make myself leave. There is always something that we love more than ourselves that makes it impossible to move on - be it someone you love or a place filled with memories or passions that inspire you to live. When you are dead, when you are sure that you have lost everything, you'll come to realize what meant the most to you." He looked into her eyes and continued to talk.
"I need to find a way to tell the people that I love that everything is going to be alright, that things will get better, that they will find happiness again. Most importantly, I want them to know how much they meant to me. I want them to know how much I loved them, and I am afraid I have lost the chance to tell them this in person. " Tears rolled down his cheeks as he spoke.
"May be that is why I can see you. Maybe I am here to help you. We'll figure something out.", She said.
"You need to go back home, you are shivering", she hadn't noticed how cold it was until he had pointed it out. "Go home now but please come back again tomorrow.", Said Hassan. She didn't say anything. Instead, she quietly got up and walked back home. She crept inside her blanket to keep her warm but the cold never left her.
6.
The following night kamala wore a midnight blue colored kurtha to make sure that no one would see her in the dark. The sea was calm. The waves seemed to tenderly embrace the shore like a mother's hand that stroked a sleeping baby. Kamala used to go for long walks with her father when she was young. Now, he came to visit her once in every 2 years and brought her gifts but no gift was more valuable to her than his presence. She wasn't afraid to visit the beach at night. This was her playground. The sea shells that lay buried under the sand reminded her of her childhood. She used to collect them and make necklaces out of it. The sky was alive. Hassan and Kamala was walking side by side. A full moon along with a few stars were present to great them. When they reached an old well, Kamala pressed her hands on the rough stones on its edge and leaned forward to look inside. This well was abandoned after the death of a young girl who drowned herself in it.
"It must be lonely down there.", said kamala
She could see her reflection in the water inside the well but the moon and the stars were nowhere to be seen.
"The well is too narrow to capture the beauty of the night sky.", said Hassan.
Kamala turned around to face him. "I feel like my time is running out. With each passing day I am growing weaker.", he said.
"Do you have any plan.", she asked.
"You have been to my house before, right?" She nodded.
"Under the stairs there is a cupboard. Open it and you will find a black cardboard box."
"What is inside it." Kamala was curious to know.
"It's embarrassing but it is the best I have got. Could you go to my house and take it."
They continued walking, the clouds in the sky were also moving. "I was 12 years old when my younger brother was born. The first time I held him he was wearing a white cotton dress. He was sleeping but he wrapped his fingers around mine as I stood there looking at him in awe. I have kept that tiny dress of his. The first piece of cloth that he wore. I thought it would be a nice present to give him when he is older. This tiny dress along with a bigger one that he can wear. I know it's stupid." He said shaking his head. "It's not stupid its beautiful.", she said. As he was talking about his brother his eyes were shinning and his face was filled with emotions. No one would believe that he was a ghost. Everything around them were silent. If it weren't for Hassan talking Kamala would have assumed that the world had come to a standstill.
"Next week, on Saturday it's my parents wedding anniversary. I used to get them flowers every year. Could you send them flowers on my behalf." he said.
"I would love to.", she said.
"Do you think they'll like it or would this make them sadder." He turned his eyes away and his voice was shaking.
"I am sure that they would love to hear from you in one way or another.", kamala said.
7.
It has been a week since he passed. The wound he left behind was cut open every now and then by the memories that refused to leave. Kamala stood near a small wooden door looking at the photos of Hassan hanging on the wall. It was his 8-year-old self with a football under his feet and a huge smile on his face even though he was missing a few teeth. Beside this photo was another. He looked a bit older may be 12 or 13. He was holding his younger brother and was trying to make him laugh by making funny faces. It was taken from right outside this house near the old mango tree, on a summer evening. Now its branches had grown weaker and its leaves thinner. Kamala's eyes fell on the last photo. It was a family photo and was recently taken. Unlike the other ones this was taken from a tourist spot. Both Hassan's mother and father was sitting and he was standing beside them. His little brother had taken the spot on his mother's lap. All of them had put on their best clothes and their brightest smiles. Kamala eyes wandered onto the blank space beside this photograph only to witness fine cracks on the walls. There won't be any more photos where he grows older. He was forever young. Time left the dead alone. His mother was laying in the bedroom. She was too tired to speak or to cry. Kamala's mother sat beside her. They have known each other for a long time, perhaps she could comfort her. Although there were people around, the house felt empty. Kamala reached the stairs and kneeled down to open the cupboard. Inside she found a dusty black box just like he had said. It was tiny and weightless. She made sure that no one was watching her and quickly put it inside her bag. She didn't wait for her mother, she left as soon as she found the box.
8.
After reaching home, she locked her bedroom door and sat down. She placed the box beside her and gently wiped the dust out of it. Inside she found the dress he was talking about. It was neatly folded and placed in a corner. The small white piece of cloth inside that tiny black box resembled a half moon in the night sky. Underneath the dress she found a notebook. It was a cheap one, like the ones that is available in the stationary store near their school. She opened it. A date along with the words 'Dear Diary' was written in the begging of the first page. With a shaking hand, she ran her fingers
towards the last page. The last entry was dated two years ago. She closed it immediately. She was already feeling guilty about taking his belongings from his house and on top of that she did not want a ticket to his thoughts. For a moment she felt suffocated inside her room, so she stepped outside and took a deep breath. When she looked up at the sky she hoped that the bright blue color could transform into that of a midnight-blue. She was waiting for the sun to be replaced by the moon. She was waiting for the warmth of the morning air to replaced by the cold night. The bright and warm mornings cannot reveal the things that are hidden. And the things that are hidden carry the truth with it. It is only in the darkness that we can make out the outline of the unknown. We see the truth only in the depths of darkness within ourselves.
9.
Sleep left her alone that night. She stared at the shadows of trees through her window and tried to imagine that the branches were the arms of some monsters. They were waiting for her to fall asleep, so that they can grab her legs and drag her into another world. It was such a strange thought to keep herself awake. Hassan wasn't the first ghost that she had seen. She held tightly onto her pillow just like she used to hold on to her grandmother. That was a long time ago- A grief that has been forgotten because of the piles of irrelevant memories that clouded it. She was so sure that it was her grandma whom she saw. Kamala looked at her old wrinkled face, her hair that refused to turn grey and felt the smell of fire wood. Her grandma used to spend a lot of time in the kitchen burning wood, as a result she had the smell of ashes and smoke. She was more than happy to see her. The next morning, she told her mother about this and she was sure that kamala was either lying or had gone crazy. Lying felt the least terrible of the two options, so she choose to believe it and made sure that her daughter realized the truth as well. Ever since, her grandma was truly gone. When her feet touched the lifeless sand, she did not know that this was the last time they were going to see each other. The dead and the living
had to move on at some point.
"Its nice to see you ", he said.
The confusion that was present on his face on the first few days were gone and had been replaced by a faint smile. Something seemed different about him. His eyes seemed to capture the depths of the ocean. He looked fragile, as if she would touch him and he would vanish like a beautiful dream lost forever.
"It's time, isn't it", kamala could sense it through the distant look on his face.
"look", he said.
His voice had the gentleness of a drizzle.
"Thanks for helping me move on."
She was trying to focus on what was happening. The sound of the waves, the heavy wind, the piercing cold, the strange night sky looking down on them were all overwhelming. She did what she always did at times of pain. She thought of herself as someone else, distancing herself from her emotions. She viewed herself as a stranger. The pain was gone. Maybe it wasn't gone, maybe it was hiding somewhere waiting for the right time to strike. But until then she can go on like this - by being distant. The problem with being distant is that you can't just distance yourself from the pain alone, with it you are getting rid of the joy as well.
"I have something to give you. My diary. If you want to you can read it. I know it's not much and it's been a long time since I wrote anything but that's all I have to give you that's truly mine.", he said.
She was no longer a stranger. Her heart has pulled her back to reality only to break down crying because it was all too much. Tears fell to the ground as she wept silently.
Was she crying for Hassan or for her grandma or was it because she missed her father. It seemed as if she was crying for herself, for what she had, for what she had lost. She watched as he walked away. She stood still, her hands pressed
together, eyes focused only on him. He looked smaller as he walked further. She could not understand weather he vanished into thin air or did he walk too far that he was no longer visible to her. Anyway, he was gone.
The sun was shyly ascending from across the horizon. The first rays of light touched her skin and she felt its warmth. She was up before the morning birds and the paper boy. She looked around and the saw the plants that had risen from the lifeless earth after the thunderstorm. Their delicate leaves as soft as a feather was all ready for life.
