The Incomplete Story

(In ‘Discovering Self’ class the prof asked each of us to a write a story with ourselves as a protagonist, within 1 hr. So I wrote this cool story. The story is called ‘The Incomplete Story’ because it is incomplete.)

Coincidentally that same day, Mysore started having its May showers with loud thunderstorms at night. He realised how spooky his room was. He was the only resident of the house except for folks living downstairs; they had four pet dogs that barked at anything moving. Right in front of his window there was just flat empty land for about 200 m and a lonely road. Once or twice at nights he had woken up in the dark, sensing things in his room moving around and doors, windows banging against frame due to strong winds. Now days there were also power cuts at night , that made it much more interesting.

He looked up for his chances of seeing lady in white sari with a candle in her hand. They had often met in his dreams and had talked about anything and everything. Her name was Manjula and she loved wearing a Gajara. As per statistics from one of the Narayan Dharap books , the chances were around 2% on any given day with suitable conditions. So he thought and hoped hat he would have a company on at least one of the nights during his 2 months of stay in the house.

A week passed by, his boss was getting edgy and his job tougher. Even at night he started dreaming about Aerosol cans and reducing their inventory level. He never liked being stressed; it always blocked his natural clear thinking. He hated himself when stressed; all he could think of was new layout for the plant and the inventory planning. Thoughts of Manjula were so far away. Suddenly on one such stormy night he woke up at night sensing a movement outside his windows. There she was, looking doped as usual. It was still couple of hours to go before the dawn. He invited her in and offered her Real fruit juice, she accepted without any hint of smile. She came nd sat next to him in his bed. She looked just like in his dreams, only more doped and more beautiful.

They watched Southpark all night; he thought it was hilariously funny. She never laughed but looked at it intensely. He thought she was innocent. At around dawn she left him without uttering a word, it was very typical of her.

Next whole day he eagerly waited for the night. That night she came early. She told him about her life and about her death. When she talked, it was always as if she was talking to herself. He foolishly asked her whether she had any supernatural powers, she just laughed. It wasn’t a mad hysterical smile befitting ghosts; it was something different, something very ‘human’. It thundered all that night. He liked thundering. Often on nights that followed they would just sit and look outside his window and watch the rain. He asked her whether she believed in god; she said ‘No’, which he thought was very thoughtful of her. On one of the nights he touched her for the first time. Her skin seemed to glow wherever he touched her. For him the touch was very cold and pale. She didn’t seem to mind touching, she didn’t mind anything actually. That was a relief, cause he never knew how to behave around girls, least of all the dead ones.

His nights were dreamy and days pathetic, it was another one of those useless obligatory summer internships, where you just sit and whack your brain over some problem in the company and come up with the ‘recommendation’, only to be rejected as ‘not feasible’ by the higher management. Best part of the day was when he played with the dogs downstairs. But he didn’t mind all of it as long as every night he had her for the company. It wasn’t as if he expected her to come every night, but he hoped that she would. It went on for few more nights , may be 10, may be 15, didn't care, but then one night....

PS: I know, the story is atrocious