Falling Paint

A grim room, the walls slowly stripping as the paint is falling. The early morning dawning outside the window and the pages kept on a working desk flutter, the paper weight holding them. The bed in the middle of room is unevenly standing, one of its legs is missing. On the bed, a warm blanket holds a cold body. An old man lies in it, dead, who knows for how many hours. My grandfather…

But wait, where the hell am I in this room? I am not around, nowhere. I can see everything but I am not here. I can feel my body lying miles away from my first home. I am in another house, a part of me maybe, sleeping in a room reeking of success. 

The wooden door to this room where I barely exist as a spectator, creaks open noisily. A young girl, my sister rushes inside. She is dressed in a spotless white shirt, a black skirt and shining school shoes. The shine of her clothes juxtaposes the room, dark and old. She runs to the bed, humming a kiddy rhyme. In her sing singsong voice, she says, "I am going to school, grandpa!" 

There is no response. She says it again, louder and shrilling. She shrugs him but obviously in vain. And as she removes the blanket away, she screams. The brown eyes are closed, yet they are staring at nothing. The mouth falls open upon more moving and shoving. The head lolls, no trace of life left. Another women rushes into the room, my mother. My sister rushes to her and hugs her. She is trembling, I can feel her disturbance, yet I cannot comfort her, I am not here. 

My mother runs ahead and at the sight of the lolled ahead and the shut eyes, she falls to her knees and cries, mostly in perturbation. My sister began sobbing too, her sobs were simpler as they were of sadness. And then she rushes out of the room, shouting for father. My father enters next and he too begins to cry. His weeping was complex though, a mixture of my mother's and my sister's. There was true sadness, there was regret as he saw the blemished walls, and there were memories and visions. 

I experienced a pulling force, a suction which seemed to pull me out of this room, this scene. I tried to resist but it kept pulling more mightfully. The walls disappeared, the weeps and whimpers faded. The faces of my sister, my mother, my father and my grandpa flashed in front of me. A room, the other one reeking of success started coming into existence. I could feel this part of me uniting with the other, the body.

I woke up. A television screen rested in front of me, blank. I was searing in heat and bathing in sweat. I threw away my cosy blanket away. My phone rang and the whole wooden side table shivered. I picked it up. The screen glowed under the light of the red night bulb. My heart drowned as I read the name, 'Dad'. 

I picked it up. There was silence for a few seconds, we just heard each other's breathing voice. He did not know how to tell, and I did not know how to listen. My inner voice kept comforting me that it was just a nightmare, that I was stupid to even think such a thing had happened. 

All the comfort evaporated, as I heard my father's broken voice. I heaved and panted in a trauma. I had never heard him cry. 

"Grandpa…is no more"

He hung up the phone. I threw mine away, it however landed on the blanket I had thrown before. I lay back, my face in hands. I wished to cry, I could feel the tears forming but they didn't come out. My eyes remained dry, moreover they turned heavy. I could feel my head moving. The blood in my body gushed and oozed. That suction had returned, my room began to vanish and the faces flashed in front of me. I could see my grandpa, my sister, my mother and my father, crying and sobbing. 

The room came into view. The lights had been switched off now. There were many a people in the room now, some I recognized as relatives and friends and neighbours, the others I did not know. 

My uncle stood beside my sister. His expression was contrasting and calm. My sister still wore the school dress. He asked her, "Did you all tell your brother?" 

My sister nodded yes, her eyes moist. Why couldn't I cry? I asked myself. I was still not here, what was happening with me? 

My father rushed to him, "Thank god you came so fast. I don't know what to do!" 

"It is ok. Is your son coming?" 

My father holds his forehead. 

"I told him, I couldn't make myself hear" 

"It is important for him to come! What would you tell all these people? Where is the grandson? Will you say that he has no time for being here when his grandfather has died?" 

My uncle rushed away. My father hugged my sister who continued to cry. She needed me as of now. An old lady walks upto my father now, I recognize her by face. She is my great aunt. 

"Did you inform him?" 

I can feel my hair rise and a numbing sensation spreads throughout. They are talking about me. 

"Yes, I did" 

"Is he coming?" 

"I…don't know" 

"You…don't know? What are you talking about?" 

'…I will tell him to come as soon as possible. I will just call him." 

"What will he do here? You shouldn't have informed him. He is all alone there. What will people say? That he is coming here leaving everything. You don't know how much will they gossip about this. Prodigal son!" 

The suction is back. I don't resist it this time. I close my eyes, I don't see any flashes this time. Just gossiping noises echo in my ears. I can feel the dilemma and the futility of 'what people will say' blow at me. 

A silence spreads, the whispers and gossips fade. I open my eyes slightly and the blank television screen comes into view. My phone is buzzing, lying on the floor. A teardrop flows down my right cheek finally topples down, and I sit back up. What is real and what is not? My sister's need or my father's helplessness, the relatives or my lost relation? To be honest, everybody knows it, nobody really realizes it.