A Sombre Day

In the sultry, debilitating heat of high summer, my face shone with damp pallor of a slight indisposition. I lazily walked on a dreary tract towards an unknown destination. On my way I thought that I've spent all my life in unravelling the knots of my glued memories, but have I ever succeeded? 'NO'. Have I ever been able to escape from the unforgettable experiences of my life? 'NO'. The word intermittently blared in my head. "Why me? Why me only in this whole world?" I started fighting with my own self. Tumbled into my thoughts, I finally stepped on the stairs of my destination. CHRISTIAN CEMETERY. The board revealed. My footsteps sounded hollow as I entered the sun-drenched cemetery. As I stared at my surrounding, a strange and very beautiful tree came across my sight. A tree I had never seen before. It had scarlet-shaded leaves and oyster white, bell-shaped flowers. The combination attracted me so much that I, at once, started walking towards it. Its shadow was extremely soothing in that scorching heat. I sat there cross-legged, my hands cupped my face and my memory scudded across my mind. I delved into the fine cafe au lait-shaded sand and scrutinized it by worming my slender fingers through it. It resulted in the formation of a small crater. I sat there staring at it with blank eyes. In that I saw that the bitter memories of my life have enlarged the armoury of my sentiments. So, then, I decided to bury all my hopes, all my dreams in it. For I knew the diminutive crater can only hold a tiny part of my melancholic life, but still I tried. A little optimism was still left in my vision. Deep, silent moans and screams reverberated off the eau de nil walls of the cemetery as I lowered my grief-struck past into the dry, dead sand. The constant whine of cicadas in the avenues of planted trees was providing a shrill accompaniment to the shrieking of unseen birds and all these tropical sounds seemed to be amplified in my ears by the unnatural stillness of the cemetery. Sadness and grief had seeped into my being and was now flowing through my eyes in the form of tears. I slowly mixed the gloom-enriched crystal beads with tawny sand. It made a perfect mahagony-shaded mixture. I flattened the mixture with my trembling hands, and with the help of a small stick, carved on it: GRAVEYARD OF MY HOPES. I gazed at the fallen, dead flowers till they dissolved in a blur of tears. I closed my eyes and squeezed back the tears that threatened to fall. The atmosphere of quiet tranquility which embraced the cemetery seemed to deepen; the whine of cicadas and the screeching of birds became subdued. I felt the warmth of the sunlight on my heavy eyelids and finally closed them forever. A deadly silence spread its cloak over the charnel house.

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