Short story

An inquest

"Hi! Rashmi how was the movie? Was it really a treat?"Who are you? What the hell you do without knowing who you are talking to? No Rashmi is here."

I heard a furious voice screaming in full volume at the other end. I was quite dumbfounded. How could such a trivial mistake make such a problem in one's mind?

How can a person become this arrogant? His macho pride needs to be challenged. But it was a captivating voice. I really fell for it. The human mind is such. Even the slightest move could go a long way when it strikes the inner recesses of the heart.

Things different fascinate me. It's true that people are different and it's this diversity which adds beauty to the world. He also seems a necessary component of this diversity. This was the only rationale I could come up with in justifying why I wanted to talk to him once again. I rang him once again.

"Hi! Rashmi, How are you?" I purposely pretended that I made a mistake. But I myself felt that my voice was trembling. "I told you once that no Rashmi is here. I'm Wimansa. For god's sake don't bother me. Let me live my life. You...intruder"

Wimansa, Mm... what an uncommon name. To what have I intruded? This is surely a case worthy of exploration. Although the words were harsh, his voice sounded somewhat tender than it was earlier. At the same time, I felt that there was an agony behind.

Though he sounded frustrated, the captivating quality of his voice wasn't fully overclouded by it. What could be the reason behind his mental turmoil? A plethora of questions arose in my mind.

Etched

This incident got etched deep in my heart. For no reason I took extra care of my directory after having his number in it. I silently admired the name 'Wimansa' written together with it. Often I let my imagination astray to imagine his picture.

The pictures arising in my mind overlapped with one another. Therefore, what I had in my mind was only a vague silhouette of him. At night, I used to stare at the dark sky wondering as to how to find a clue to his whereabouts. The next day also I tried the number. Unfortunately, they became fruitless efforts. This continued for two weeks.

My curiosity increased more and more. One night I tried it once again. To my amazement, it started to ring. I felt delighted. I sat on the bed saying to myself: Come on boy, pick it up. He spoke after a lapse of few seconds. It was only a deep and brisk hello.

Thereafter, no words were spoken. Only his heavy breathing was heard. It became quite obvious that he was sound asleep. His deep breathing raised the throbbing of my heart. An inexplicable sensation ran through my whole body.

A slight music was heard from the background. I listened attentively. I became perplexed over such a moving melody being played at such an odd hour. I dreamt of him that night. But the dreams also seemed hazy like his existence. The next day I thought of being bold. I dialled the number.

He recognized my voice at once. "For heaven's sake tell me who you are? Why do you do this to me?" He spoke at a stretch. I felt so sorry. "Never thought of bothering you, Wimansa. Whatever happened was unintentionally done. The first instance it was a mistake.

You are like a closed book of magic spells. As itemanates a certain aura it is not open, your presence in my mind makes me bound to you making it so difficult to walk away from you. Please do tell me who you are?" "Never think of seeing me. You'll never know who I am. If you happen to see me once, you'll not even talk to me.

I'm not misanthropic. I love imperfections. I love people, especially who are ready to admit that imperfections add a kind of beauty to the world. I want to prove that the values the majority believes in are not really values which could adorn society.

I'm quite sure that I'll win my silent struggle one day." A man of substance; this was the conclusion I came up with. The words truly had a great impact on me. He is man worthy of being found. I didn't mind going to great pains in tracing his whereabouts.

There was a single way open. That was finding the address relevant to his mobile phone. God had compassion on me. I felt as if I have accomplished half of my mission.

Secluded

It was a small house situated in a secluded area in the town. Nobody seemed to be around at that moment. Waves of suspicion arose in my mind. I tapped at the door. No response came. Instead, I heard a light melody being played inside. It managed to drive away the suspicion that I had in my mind. I pushed open the half-closed door.

To my amazement, I saw a heap of books piled up on a table. There was a bottle containing a faded flower. I manipulated my eyes around the room with utmost care to grasp even the slightest detail. There was a saying by a famous poet pasted on the wall.

'Wild nights are my glory'.

This became adequate evidence for me to judge the person. How passionate this person seems to be. I felt a sudden craving to possess him. I proceeded. Yes, there he was. He was seated in an armchair overlooking a thick grove of trees through a large window. He didn't notice my being close to him. Instead, I noticed some scraps of paper scattered near him. There was one on his lap also.

I wish the whole day were night, filled with starry heavens so bright...

The darkness he dwelt with in all these indicated the poet in him. How could I fathom that there are people who love darkness so much. The light he sees in darkness could be seen by a person having a romantic eye only. The depth of the two lines unravelled chapters and chapters of his nature.

Calm

I eagerly looked at him. His face seemed so calm. His eyes were closed. He has fallen asleep. The pen was about to fall from his long tapering fingers. His pursed lips showed a slight tremble from time to time. I stared at him blankly. Myriad queries flooded in. Why does he prefer to lead an isolated life? He seemed quite normal.

For me there seemed no obvious reason to justify his being alone cut off from the rest of the world. I lowered my head to have a careful look at him. The sight caused a tremor in my whole body. There was a pair of crutches beside the armchair. Realization dawned on me only then.

I felt as if the whole world was turning around me. The exact words he uttered some time back started to reverberate in my ears.

I love imperfections. I love people, especially who are ready to admit that imperfections add a kind of beauty to the world." I took the pen, scribbled this in a scrap of paper and placed it on his lap. "The world you believe in is no longer a dream, imperfections in your perception are not really imperfections. Certainly they add colour to the whole world."

Indu Gamage, ELTU, University of Ruhuna.