Not On My Own

Mani lay emancipated and spent on his hospital bed with a death like somberness. He was the single occupant of that particular ward, it seemed that he was on his own, all alone! It was hard to believe that this was the same outgoing and handsome Mani with chiseled features, piercing golden-brown eyes and straight brownish black hair with a prominent widow’s peak on his forehead! Mani who once was the toast of the town, the very life of almost all the parties that he happened to find himself in was ill, really ill.

  All of a sudden, unknowingly and unbeckoned, tears rolled out of the confines of his eyes, silently, like mute spectators, bound by their helplessness against all that is meted out in the name of reality… in the guise of the so called ‘actual life.’

Before he could raise his feeble hands to brush them away, it was done for him. Was he hallucinating, yet again? It couldn’t be. It was not actually possible for a brain drugged and numbed by over the counter prescription to fall prey to illusions.

He tried to raise his head feebly, but a firm, yet compassionate touch kind of held him down.

‘Who are you stranger?’ groaned Mani. A pleasant voice answered back. ‘I am, just as you said – a stranger.’ A bewildered Mani exclaimed feebly ‘do I know you? Don’t you see that I am in no state to joke, leave alone solve any riddles which may jolt my mind to help figure out your identity.’ ‘Hush!’ the stranger tried to whisper away Mani’s agitation and then Mani felt a strong hand enfold his feeble hand in its own. ‘Tell me about yourself’ the stranger whispered.

This question disconcerted Mani because it seemed that the stranger’s voice was compelling him to do something, which deep down Mani did not want to do. A feeling of helplessness pervaded his being, somewhat akin to the those moments when Mani struggled to do something right but turned out doing just the opposite; partly due to his inability to say ‘no’ to anything, however, detrimental it might be for him and partly due to his overwhelming sense of insecurity and the need to be in the limelight which made him seek attention, at whatever the cost.

A million thoughts raced through his mind and before he could say something he heard that voice again. What was the stranger saying? Mani strained to hear, trying his level best to clear his mind from all the cobwebs that had enclosed his mind. It was then that there was a swift moment of clarity, a miniscule moment which brought upon Mani a chilling realization that he had lived life as if being in a constant state of stupor since adolescence. Initially the novelty of freedom, its tremendous possibilities, his liberty, his invincibility or so he thought and later …

The stranger had an annoying habit of interrupting Mani’s thoughts, ‘so tell me’ the stranger juxtaposed ‘doesn’t your name Mani mean a gem? Have you been able to live up to your name?’

Mani waited or rather strained to hear if the stranger had something more to say but surprisingly only an edgy silence stretched between them. The vocal Mani, the cynosure of all eyes, one who never lost an opportunity to brag, was hesitant for the first time and then, all of a sudden the melodious voice of his mother calling him rang out in his mind. The enfeebled Mani squeezed close his eyes, his hands clenched into tight fists; was his mind up to its old antics again, how was it possible to be pulled back in time? Was he still the happy go lucky teenager, adored by his mother?

‘Mani’ this time his eyes flew open, thankful that it was not his mother who was beckoning him. ‘Why did you close your eyes?’ the stranger asked. Mani turned away his face, a bitterness spread across it, how does one explain that seeing loss, pain and disappointment in a mother’s eye is unbearable. Coping with silent, unasked questions conveyed by unguarded expressions were more devastating than vocalized reprimands and rebukes.

‘Mani…’ and before the stranger could say anything more, a husky sob tore out of Mani. ‘What, what exactly do you want to hear? Why should I stand being judged by a stranger? Whether I did my mother proud or not, oh forget it. Yes at one point I was a gem!’ At this point an agitated Mani was seized by a harrowing cough. A soft chuckle was heard in tandem with the racking cough. Tears poured down Mani’s face already ravaged by illness. ‘My Son’ the voice continued, ‘I was a gem?’ what do you mean?

Yes, I thought that I was invincible, a hero, I could do no wrong and I did not want to appease any one.  Now, when I look back I do agree that I committed a lot of mistakes, I perpetrated the wrong in so many ways in so many things but there were times when I genuinely wanted to stop and somehow I could not. There were times when I wanted to apologize but every time it was too late! Then at times there was no one to beg forgiveness of…’ words seemed to pour out of Mani with a sense of urgency, as if he had to make up for all the lost time and all the opportunities wasted, like he was being given a chance like never before to condone all that was amiss…

For the first time he felt like he was not on his own!

Ajaya Bajpai