I’ve always been interested in writing, but somehow never had time to pursue it as a solid hobby. Transitioning to this American life made me realize writing is a way of thinking: crystallizing ideas into text.
I’ve consumed a lot of brilliant books. I appreciate well-written work even about mundanities. When I start writing, though, the first output is rarely the best. It takes a long time to mature.
One of the early pieces that saw daylight and actual recognition came from my last two years of college. Junior year and senior year, two short stories, both won creative writing prizes.
Unfortunately one didn’t survive time. We wrote from a picture: a cowboy silhouette on a horse on a cliff top, looking over a small western town, somewhere like Utah. I wrote Cowshik (cowboy + Kaushik): a Sherlock Holmesian new sheriff in town, born to an Indian couple who emigrated to the United States back in the 1800s. Plot twist involved twin giant goons who were germaphobes; he somehow partied hard and puked on them to get out. Stupid. It won anyway, mostly, I think, because the fantasy-anime energy was creative enough to award.
Senior year we got one sentence: If I were invisible for a day…
My close friend, quiz-team partner, and final-year roommate always quipped that I was the “watchman,” because everywhere I went people said hi. He was always confused why so many people from so many corners of campus had anything to do with me. But I noticed somebody who was invisible: some of the people I spoke with didn’t recognize him. He was a bit of a loner. Soft spot on my side; I did help him out with a few things. Nerdy wannabe first-ranker, okay in academics, not super mature, definitely a hard worker. That gave me the idea of how people can be perceived as invisible if they don’t socialize a lot.
With that context, here is the story without any further ado. Some of it may track then-current politics back in India. Creative writing after all; I was probably absorbing the news at the time.
“He,he,he” I smirked. I can remember the lines that overbearing evildoers condescendingly say to helpless minions or sometimes even protagonists: ‘You can run, but you can’t hide!!’. Have you ever wondered why heroes don’t get to say such lines to villains that often?
Anyway, in my case, I didn’t have to hide, or even be chased for that matter. Crime is common, logic is rare. Only when you run can somebody chase you. When they can’t even see you, what’s the need for that? Happily making my way out of MS Bakery, without paying a penny! (where it is possible to do the same even if you are not invisible, but still), I felt ‘Aah, the sweet taste of victory, in the form of Kalimark Paneer soda!… refreshing!!…’
After a while of straying through the streets, playing pranks on people, it struck me, ‘Hell, what am I doing with these powers? I hardly have a day to enjoy this gift. And all the petty crimes in Pizza places and Grocery stores. Cha! How darn Cheap am I…’. Realizing this, I did the only thing any caring citizen with such powers would do. ‘This city is a nice enough place. Chennai is where I should be’. The plan was simple. Now that I was unseeable, I decided to do the unthinkable.
I didn’t have a problem navigating through the cop ridden, barricaded streets of Gopalaburam. In the corner house, resting in his easy-chair was an old man. At first I couldn’t recognize him without his dark tinted glasses and thick, yellow shawl. With my fist clenched tight, I gave him a wakeup call in a manner tons of people have only dreamed of. KNOCK! KNOCK!!…
In a fit of rage, he opened his eyes and tried to sit erect, as best as he could at his age. When he looked up, I could see the terrified look in his eyes; as if he had seen a Ghost (though he literally saw nothing). ‘Ha!’ I thought, ‘The irony’. Nevertheless, the damage was done. It never occurred to me that he was very well capable of raising a ruckus. “Crap!”
All of a sudden I was being hunted by commandos (I am no HitMan CodeName: 47… I mean, what else can you expect after waking up a CM at his own home!?). I ran and ran, to the edge of the land, till where it met the sea (i.e.: Marina beach). Surrounded, and with nowhere else to go, all I could do was turn and accept my fate. With hands raised, I turned to the sight of the special units, pointing their Kalashnikovs at me.
Surprisingly, after a few seconds of silence, everyone was running the other way. ‘What do you know! Guess I am invisible aaand invincible’. Judging from the turn of events, I counted myself very fortunate and was pretty pleased with my accomplishments of the day. I meant well. As I turned back towards the sea with this gloating sense of triumph, what I saw was pretty hard to describe. It’s not every day that you get front row seats to a show that features a 20 foot wall of water racing directly at you. ‘A Tsunami…’ was the last wide-eyed thought in my head before I was wiped off the shore, along with everything else around me…
When I opened my eyes, I found myself lying spread eagle on my hostel bed, with the rain drops that seeped through the ceiling dripping on my forehead. ‘Damn, I shouldn’t have seen inception before going to sleep last night’. It was a dream after all. This means I hadn’t really achieved anything, At. All. Cursing the broken ceiling, I wished, ‘Aww… If only I really were invisible!!’
It was a routine day. Went for breakfast, alone. To class, just for the sake of attendance. Then to mess for lunch, prepared to fight over who gets the crumpled up remains of the uncooked crumbs of what passes off for chips. But then something unexpected happened.
It dawned on me, something I had been ignoring so far; that I had a hard time fitting into any group. When I wanted to talk to my close friends, I couldn’t think of any name in particular. Not in the TV room, not in the ground, not in class… Not one single soul! The truth was plain and obvious. And when I realized it; Silence. Shock. Sorrow.
‘Side effects of not being Social’ I self-sympathized.
Reality is the hardest pill to swallow. I have a problem, a rather big one; being lonesome, unwanted, and in whole - an outcast. It seems like I really didn’t need to have magical powers to be invisible. There are other, far more practically possible ways too. I figured that if this is the case, the wisest thing to do is to start mingling with people, finding an identity for myself and carving out a place in the society.
Why the hell did I even have such a dream? I was happily ignorant before it! But it’s another one of those things that you cannot control. Completely heartbroken, I did the only thing I could.
Logged in to Facebook, updated my status:
“boo-hoo-hoo *crying* … I really am invisible!!”
in a desperate hope that, at least here, I might get a few ‘Why?’s, ‘How?’s, ‘Hey, what happened yar?’s
and if lucky, even a few ‘Like’s. 👍
- Kyu
College competition piece, 2011.