4 1.1 — A Few Hours Ago...
Let’s begin at the beginning. Well, not too far back in the beginning.
Skipping past the morning shenanigans—all I would say is that I was rudely woken up by my uncle and by rudely I mean a nice ol’ forceful, but also playful, pull out of the bed.
Strange behaviour? Not gonna disagree with you on that but sadly, it’s more of a norm with him.
He’s always been a strange guy.
The sort of person who would walk instead of using the car because he didn’t want his legs to become rusty. One who would scream and say gibberish words for no reason when the silence was getting too comfy. One who would dip his fries in ice cream and drink a coke with it.
Admittedly the last one was surprisingly good…
Not that it isn’t still weird.
Hmm, why my uncle and not my parents? Well, I don’t see how that’s any of your business. Plus, they’re not relevant to this story, so…yeah.
Okay, sure, they’re not alive. Not that it’s some big life-altering secret. They died when I was young. Car accident, so don’t go crazy with your killed by some secret organization conspiracy theories. I was even told that they didn’t suffer in the end so that’s something, I suppose…
Moving on, I took my bag, sat on my geared-cycle—not my choice, uncle’s—and made my way towards my college. I took the long route.
I always took the long route.
Not out of some insane otherworldly desire to exercise—that desire never plagued my mind, fortunately—but more of a way to be…alone.
Not in an asocial sort of way. Not even in a kill my inner demons or whatever that means, kind of way. Just in a…'get-my-thoughts-together' kind of way, you know?
To plan out the day, to make sure I knew what I was getting into that day. To have some control over my day. (I used the word 'day' one too many times, didn't I?)
And so I did.
I cycled my way towards college while making the list of grocery items I needed to buy, remembering if I did my assignments, then making a mental note to copy the assignments from my friend, so on and so forth.
I stopped near a street lamp and got off my cycle. I unzipped my bag, pulled out a bar of chocolate and placed it near the un-lit lamp-post that still had a slight bent to it. Wonder when that’s gonna get fixed.
“You don’t have to do that, bhaiya,” a sweet little voice said to me, almost like a whisper and I turned around.
And, as the voice indicated, it was a little girl standing behind me, wearing a white dress stained red by her blood.
Or, I suppose, the blood when she was still alive and taking her last breath.
I wasn’t there when the accident happened.
Apparently, it had occurred a few months back when I had gone on a trip with my friends.
A sleep-deprived truck driver who wasn’t quick enough to stop the vehicle, hence resulting in him killing a little girl bringing back the medicine for her father late at night. It was an instant death. The driver had driven off in fear and was still on the run.
Not that any attempt was made to catch him. With no security cameras in the area, there wasn't enough information to catch the guy.
He did try to call the ambulance but his phone’s battery had died and with no other choice popping up inside his scared mind, he took off while no one else was around to see it.
Hmm? How do I know about it? Well, the dead little girl told me about it, of course.
Huh? Did I not tell you about that? Oh well…I guess you can say that I can see the dead...that’s it.
Well…I mean, I can hear them too but it’s not like I can do a lot more than that.
Ritu—the name of the little girl—smiled at me, shyly, and stared at the chocolate. I don’t know why she’s always this shy. I’ve been bringing her chocolates ever since I first made contact with her—which was about two weeks ago.
Unlike her, any shyness or hesitation I might have had while dealing with ghosts had died a long time back. (Hey, a ghost pun, nice!)
I’ve had multiple contacts with multiple ghosts over the years. Hadn’t really noticed they were ghosts until I was six, and since then I just tend to ignore most of them.
In my defence, they’re very depressing to be around, you know?
Always crying and wailing, talking about their regrets, their lost hopes and dreams and petty personal drama.
Sure, I empathize with them, you know.
I do.
I really do!
But also…it gets really irritating after a while.
Ritu was the first one who didn’t irritate me that much…hence the sweets.
“Just pick it up already,” I said, zipping my back shut and getting back on the cycle.
“I-I know, it’s just usually I can’t eat these things…I wonder why I can eat the ones you bring,” she mumbled a question that she had voiced thrice before too since our first contact.
“Does it matter? If you can eat it, then eat it. It’s not like you have to care about your dental health anymore,” I said but winced at my blunt mention of her death. Dead, sure, but she was still a kid. I should be more sensitive.
Thankfully she didn't mind the bluntness and chuckled as she picked the bar up in her tiny pale hands, “Thank you!” she said with a wide grin on her face. See? I don’t hate all the kids. Just the ones that are annoy—bad. I-I meant, bad. Bad's the safe word to use.
“Good,” I smiled, “You should also probably try to get out more, you know? Walk around, roam around the world, haunt some family who bought some fancy big house in the middle of nowhere because they’re stupid.”
She giggled. Heh, I was funny. Sure, my audience of a singular dead kid wasn’t something to boast about but still. “I’ll try, bhaiya,” she said before tearing the wrapper and crunching it into her pocket.
See? She’s against littering even after being dead. Why can’t more kids be like that?
In hindsight, this interaction particularly might have been the reason why I chose to save the other kid.
I gave a gentle pat on her head and rode off.
Not gonna lie to you all, my interactions in the morning with her—however short they may be—really brighten up my day.
Strange feeling to come out with after talking to a dead person but that’s just how it was.
And then, I saw her.
My other reason for having a brighter day.
Divyanshi Innani.
