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Fold

Bijit Sinha

    “Watch the patterns on the tiles. Now, now, keep it straight. Ensure that you walk on the middle lane.”
    “Middle lane, huh?” I mutter, as I draw my jacket closer against the chilly October wind, and walk my way home. As I take the turn on the street, I brushed up against some person; it’s funny that I didn’t care. I had always wondered why I never managed to garner respect. It’s really strange that I didn’t give a single thought to an apology. I guess that’s where all the courtesy goes down the drain. Did this make me happy or sad? I can’t seem to figure it out.

LUNCH

    “Oh is it time, already??” I get anxious and reach out for some bread. Just then, I see a silhouette from the corner of my eye. Is he following me? I quickly work round my way.
    “Is that a gun? Is he reaching out for his gun?”
    Despite my assurance that everything is alright and I should act normally, I start to pick up the pace.
    My body gives away my mental restraint. I run!
    “No, no...I shouldn’t reach the line so soon”. As I reach the borderline, I sense no other way than to cross over it.
    Scrapings on the concrete ensue.
    “No. It doesn’t matter. I need to keep my head straight. I have to keep going, I have to etch out the middle line.”

IT’S TIME

    As the bars give way, I gasp for fresh air. I have been longing for the open space for quite some time. Oddly enough, no yellow leaves today. This tiny hope now keeps me going on this dreary day. I try to think. “It’s autumn now, isn’t it?”, as I clutch my chest in pain and reminisce about the day I took him out for a walk. My son.
    “Watch the patterns on the tiles. Now now; keep it straight. Ensure that you walk through the middle lane”...
    “I know Daddy. I-
    The rest is carried over in a frenzied scream, as he topples down headlong onto the pavement. Blood spatters onto my face, as I gradually sink in the darkest depths of incomprehensibility.
    A hand guides me back into the dark. By now, I have begun my long walk down the grey road. Do I feel sad? I don’t know. I can’t seem to gather my thoughts.
    “Hey Lisa, get over here...”
    “Yes? What’s the matter?”
    “Check the long stretch of line Martin has drawn today!”
    “WellÉwell, Martin! You are doing a great job today. This is one fine line, you see. But where does it end?”
    “Miss. Well, I am having trouble making a point here. This line. This border. This fold is the only thing here that brings me closer to the lot of you, even though the barricade between us marks you as sane and me as insane.
    Is there any possibility that I can forge my way over to your side?”

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