The Shadow

The doorbell rang continuously. He sat on cold floor, knees raised in front of him his right hand held the left at the wrist. Somehow he didn’t feel the cold floor on his naked bottom. Maybe his butt had frozen by sitting in one position for hours. How many hours, he didn’t know. He had lost his sense of time. His naked body felt numb. He raised his bald head slowly and looked at the ceiling through unblinking dark eyes which looked dead due to the lack of eyebrows or eyelashes.

The mobile phone kept on the bed began to blink and ring again. How many times it had rung before, he didn’t know. He had lost the sense of count. Adding to the noise of the doorbell and the ring of the mobile phone was now the clank of heavy metals crashing against each other. Sometimes the metal hit the wood with a deep thud.

His blank eyes settled on the blue stains on the off white wall, near his writing desk. He had by accident pressed the small plastic pump of the new ink pen that she had given him and three droplets had fallen on the wall making a splash like rain drops on dried Earth. She had laughed heartily. When was this, he didn’t remember. He had lost his sense of memory. He sat on his unfeeling bottoms stark naked staring at the blue spots in front of him.

There was a loud noise of metal crushing metal and wood, the front door was thrown open. People ran into the flat. He saw a woman running in with an old man and a couple of other men. They ran straight into his room, as he continued to sit naked on the cold floor. Familiar faces, he had seen them all but he couldn’t recognize them. Who were they, he didn’t know. He had lost his sense of recognition.

The woman looked up at the ceiling gave a short scream and fell on the floor unconscious, right beside where he sat. The old man looked at where the fan hung from the ceiling, his eyes wide with horror and immediately grabbed the door to keep from falling. The two men stopped short near the door staring ahead of them in dismay and sympathy. He stared at them unblinking, unmoving.

****

“What is the rush in the other building”, the old woman standing at the window of the flat asked the boy who came inside. She looked at the gate of building opposite her where people have gathered and a police van was parked.

“Somebody died”, the boy replied. “They are waiting for the ambulance to take the body away”.

“Who is it”, asked the girl sitting on the floor of the living room surrounded by her friends. She turned to look at the window where the old woman was standing.

“Don’t talk about death today”, the woman said in a strict voice turning away from the window. The girl shrank back. One of the girl’s friends took her hands and started to apply a green semi solid paste of mehndi and oil on her palm.