3rd
march 2011
She twisted the key into the door and opened the lock; it
was for the first time that she was able to open it straight away; she hated that
lock since the unnecessary struggles have always frustrated her. Then she moves
to another door to push it, but the elevated flooring gets stuck into the way
and spatter up the dust in the air, she pushes harder and gets in; the tiny
particles were all over the place to remind her of the long wait. It was locked
for a long period that she wasn’t even able to recognize the smell of her own house.
But she liked this new smell too; she had a good sense of smell. And had this
obsession of smelling everything since childhood.
After walking inside she realizes that the rooms were quite
empty, but still were clinging to some old things, enough to remind her of everything
she once had. Then moves from one room to another, she passes the kitchen; the
place she always detested. Eventually she stops in front of the door of the
last room of the house, *inhales deeply* ‘I missed you’ she whispers. It was
her room, her old iron made Almirah and furthermore her bed was still there.
Her parents knew what she will need when she will come home and they were
right. That’s all she needed at that point. The new smell, her bed and complete
segregation.
She was feeling fragile, her legs trembled a little.
Approaching towards her bed, she heaves a sigh in relief. Adjusting her brown
bag under her head she stretches out in no direction in particular and falls
deeply in sleep. She wakes up few times in between but her feverish body doesn’t
allow her to get up but, she lastly gets up after 10 hours. She peeks outside
through her windows, it was evening now. Assembling her pale body she walks out
through the door in her room which was directed towards balcony, where she used
to smoke sometimes. She lights her broken cigarette and inhales it deeply, she feels
the hit inside deep her chest. And at that moment she was feeling nothing, in
fact she was feeling nothing from the last few months. Her stare was stuck to
that tree, which has always been there. Nothing had changed in the world she lived
in but, nothing was the same in the world that lived in her.
It was late in the night when she realized she hadn’t
bathed from long, she gets up from her favorite broken chair and leaves the
yellow note on the bed which says ‘ grief demands an answer but, sometimes
there isn’t one’ with her sign under it which says ‘ Kayla Hassan’. She unlocks
her Almirah and finds herself lost in the memories of haunting past; nothing
seems to feed anything in her now. She picks up some clothes and leaves them on
bed and move towards lavatory. She stands under the shower for very long, it
never felt like that ever before. The cold water bathes her body but, not really
cleans her. She starts rubbing herself, every single part of her body; it’s
been a long time since anybody had touched her body since she had touched her
own body. She stares at the grey foam her body was making. The cuts and marks
of her skin were reminding her of the fights in the jail and how that jailor
tried to force him on her and asked her to illustrate How She Kills.
She did make some good friends in prison but, the irony
is nobody is good when they are behind the bars. When she used to sit idle
inside the prison, she always tried to sketch herself. Imagining that she is
standing in front of the bars, watching herself sitting inside the prison. It
was what she preferred to do, when she had nothing to do. While rubbing herself
with the towel, she laughs hysterically, for how creepy her thoughts were when
she used to imagine. She still memorizes the pictures of herself; she looked
pale and horrifying in them, the only thing that looked strong were those iron
bars.
After one year and two months, she couldn’t actually
recognize her own face in the mirror. She never was very beautiful but, she
hates what she sees now. She tried to look into her eyes, but the wounds and nastiness
were enough to haul her back to agony. She always was just to people but,
people weren’t always just to her. The truth, the logic, the ethics, the
morals, the justice, the peace and every other big word could never bring her
back; her own self. They can never bring her back what she used to think, she
will always live in an existential crisis, she will always be the girl who got
herself raped and murdered the innocent rapist.
While dressing up she smells herself; it was nostalgic
for her to smell herself. She was a normal girl living in the capital of India but,
now she is nothing. She had a wise brain and used to write until she was thrown
into prison for the crime she never did.
She was staring at the picture which was gifted by her close friend Rashi on
her birthday, she looked funny and happy in that picture but, she feels nothing
by looking at the picture since it only reminds her of the pictures she used to
imagine in lockup. But it made her think why her parents didn’t leave any
picture of them in the house. They left the house and their little wealth to
her and moved to another city after what media did to them. Not only her parents
but, also everything she ever had, left her. She killed her rapist and got into
prison in charge of murder and nobody gave it a name of defense because nobody
believed her. The prosecution made it clear to people that she had sex with him
and killed him for her selfish reasons. There were loads of accusations charged
on her because he was a son of a rich father.
She was a rebel and a very thoughtful person, but she was
nobody now. She always had this tendency to train her mind to become numb when
she couldn’t do anything about it. That’s what she was doing now. She was in
prison until they realized she wasn’t completely at fault, they apologized but,
their sorry faces were never going to return her what has gone astray.
Everything that has ever been significant to her was her mind, which now was
lost and which could never be found again. It was never about winning or losing
the case, it was about memories, they don’t let you live and they don’t let you
die. She was very much into psychology and was still aware of what was
happening to her, but she refused to come back. She thought she deserves
quitting, at least for now; she doesn’t want to explain to her anything. She
will not die, but she doesn’t care to live and that’s how she wanted to stay at
least for now.
10th
march 2011
After spending a week completely alone at home, she realized
that she didn’t contact her best friend. The only person who trusted her, who
came to meet her every end of the month, who didn’t see her as failure, who
cried for what happened, who hated her, who loved her, who lost her patience
thousands times and tried to forget her but, came back every time at same day
of the month. Kayla never talked much to her but she knew Zaira understood
everything, she was also having the hardest time in her life but, she will
understand. Kayla and Zaira had been together for more than 12 years, and there
was nothing more important for them except their companionship and love. They
were not friends; they were each other’s life and stability, more than anyone
can understand.
She calls her number on the phone she brought herself
yesterday, and that was the only number she remembered. She wasn’t sure if
Zaira still had the same number and meanwhile she was feeling disgust in
anxiety. But she had to dial her, and tell her that she is out of prison now,
she didn’t tell her anything about it earlier.
Zaira: hello?
….
Hellooo??
….amm
!?! Who is this?? hellooo?
Kayla!
….. aa mm … yes, what,… ho..How are you? And you are out?
Yeah you… YOU ARE OUT AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ME… WHERE ARE
YOU… FROM WHERE ARE YOU CALLING ME, WHO YOU ARE WITH?? WHOSE NUMBER IS THIS?
WHERE ARE YOU?
Yeah I am out and take a breath; your exhilaration is
killing me. I am at home and alone.
What? When did you reach home and why didn’t you tell me?
I atleast deserve that much huh? *silence* ………………………….But maybe I understand.
I know you do, come home.
I am coming right away; it will take me an hour to reach.
Is this your number?
Okay, yes it is mine.
YOU BROUGHT A NEW NUMBER? HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN OUT?
Zaira? Come home.
Amm okay, I am trying to handle this wisely. Hmm! I am
coming.
She comes home after one and a half hours, they see each
other but, their eyes don’t meet. The bodies and faces have changed, Kayla
feels disturbed by her presence but, she knew her feelings were temporary. They
sat on her bed and try to make some talk without looking at each other. They
never felt this much awkwardness with each other-ever-before but now they can
sense the gap. Zaira starts asking her questions patiently but, wasn’t able to
make Kayla say more than a word or two. She sighs disappointedly and stretches
her leg like she used to, then she eagerly opens her bag and hand over Kayla
her favorite sandwiches that she almost forgot. After four hours of struggle
and weirdness, the ice completely melts and they both share some cigarettes.
Zaira cries loudly and tells her few important things about her life. She cries
that she wanted to talk a lot about many things but, her mind was blank now.
Kayla didn’t say much but, enough to make Zaira cry and smile at the same
moment.
8th
may 2011
Kayla wakes up with a severe headache; she had been
taking too many drugs lately. She takes four disprins at once and put her head
under cold running water but, it doesn’t seem to relief her. She notices that
the sink is turning red with her blood. Her nose was bleeding heavily, she
wasn’t much conscious to do anything else than splashing water over her nose.
In efforts of managing her body and bleeding nose and heavy head she fells and loses
her senses. After 3 hours, she wakes up and tries to remember what happened. She makes an effort to stand up so she could
look herself into the mirror, but what she sees was blood everywhere, and she
again sees her ugly face, which now is uglier. She doesn’t even try to look
into her eyes.
She cleans herself and rest in the bed for another hour
and think of what she is doing but, as she was trained in becoming numb, she
adapts that again and lights another joint.
17th
July 2011
She lost 15kgs and sitting under sun in summers doesn’t
bother her body now. She looks at her arm and she only sees the wounds of shots
she had been giving herself. She manages to get up and walk straight inside her
house, which looks worse than the day she entered the first time. She gulps a
glass of water and splashes some on her face. She wipes off the mirror with her
hand and struggle to see herself. Her torn dirty clothes, wounded and pale body
makes her hate herself. She growl in range, ‘I HATEEE MYSELF’ she screams,
‘WHY’D YOU DO THIS TO ME?’. She was an atheist and believed in humans but, the
brutality killed her thousand times than any god could.
She tears up everything up in anger, throws every object
that was reachable to her hands and breaks down into pieces, she howls
piercingly for the first time after that day. She knew this will happen one
day, she tries to remember whatever was her once, thousands of flashes falls
into her eyes with her thousand tears.
She shouts standing in front of mirror ‘WHAT DO YOU THINK
YOU ARE DOING? WHY CAN’T YOU JUST GET BETTER’ she cries. After hours she
eventually falls on the floor.
18th
July 2011
After a very long time, she feels that she still had some
senses left. The mirror was still in front, the torn off dirty clothes, dirty
hands, wounds, and everything was there but, she could see the light of change.
She puts her both hands on the mirror, KAYLA… KAYLAAA... KALYAAAA… she screams.
And, finally looks above her nose, she looks into her eyes. They were pale,
unmentionably sad and broken eyes. She quivers in pain of that sadness she just
saw and breaks down into her hands.
22nd
July 2011
Her house was clean now, the smell was good, and there
wasn’t even any smell of drugs and smoke. Zaira gets in happily and roams
around the house, months after her first visit; Kayla allowed her to come in
finally. Kayla was cooking for her best friend and looked fresh too.
19th
august 2011
She had a job now, she writes for a private company and
earn well for herself. She and Zaira were great friends again. It was never
easy for Kayla to do what she did, but if she was able to murder someone, she
was also able to murder the evil inside her.
13th
September 2014
She became a great writer and earns handsomely. She also
joined a social group in India that helped underprivileged women to find better
way to live and survive. She became a tough feminist and a writer.
