July 14, 2007

While She Waits

I'm scared of her. She haunts me everyday. As I climb up the stairs, I can feel her presence. Clad in her white Pakistani pyjama - kurta and head covered with a thick dupatta, she sits on the last fleet of stairs. She watches me as I take deeper breaths while climbing the last few steps. As I move around doing my work upstairs, I feel she is standing behind me, watching me carefully.

I hear some strange noise and look behind. Nobody. But I know it was her. She must be getting some kind of sadistic pleasure in watching me all tensed and sweating. She knows I have this inexplicable fear of being all alone upstairs. It's been years, but still I haven’t been able to overcome this fear.

Climbing down the stairs is the thing I dread the most. There is darkness behind me and in that darkness I know she is following me. I can feel it - she is right behind me. As I try to move ahead faster, she gets closer. It's just a matter of a few steps. My heart beats faster. I don’t want her to snatch me away. Last four steps, three, two, one, ground. She's gone. The moment I touch the ground, she vanishes. Looks like she has no power beyond the fleet of stairs.

I heave a sigh of relief. Once again I have returned safe from her territory. I have been lucky for the past 15 years. But I know, one day she'll take me away with her….


Piggy Little said...

u write sooooo bloody awesome!!

bhumika said...

thanks...you have truly been an inspiration :)

Anonymous said...


loved the photograph

Saibal Barman said...

It flows like a narrow silvery stream elegantly fading into alluring remoteness of a vast misty vale. It leaves enough space for the readers to paint own shadow, stretch out own dreams and tread on to nowhere...
There lies, perhaps, no more richly primitive pleasure than in fear that offers a sense of confession and confers a sense of confidence in weaving values of the past to life!
Very thought-provoking and praiseworthy contribution.