I'm Subha, 25. I'm a barber in my father's shop. Do I hate my job? No. But end of the day why it always feel like this is not for me. Every night, as I lay on bed and close my eyes, strange emptiness creeps in. I found myself wrapped up in deep dark veil of nothingness.
Today felt a bit different. I dreamt one of happy moment of my life. The first day of high school. I was sitting on the last bench, barely able to hear what the teacher was saying.
But a few lines reached me through the noise and stayed with me ever since.
"Everyone has their own story they want to tell the world - through their actions. You should prepare To tell the world what your story will be."
I was cutting hair quietly, like always. You see, in India, barbers are supposed to be talkative. Nonstop chatter, neighborhood gossip, politics. It's a cliché, but it's also true.
But me? I was never good at it. My father reminds me of that every now and then.
Anyway, I was finishing up when a customer stepped forward to pay.
He had a smirk on his face that felt oddly familiar.
"Remember me?" he said. "We were classmates. You scored 17 marks more than me in 10th grade... Now look, you're a barber. Just like your father."
What was I supposed to say?
I laughed it off. Not because it was funny. But because... I didn't want to cause a scene. Not in front of my brother. Not in front of customers.
While handing him his change, I said,"Why don't we step outside?" While heading outside I tried to remember him. Out of all the blurry faces from school, one was starting to sharpen. Yes, I knew him. But what is his name though? I will find out the name during our conversation.
Outside, I asked him the usuals, where he's been, what he's doing now.
He lit a cigarette and launched into a monologue.
Europe. University. Met a beautiful French girl. Married her.
Now he lives in America. Has a baby daughter. Came back to India to introduce her to his parents.
As he kept talking, I stood there, mostly quiet.
Empty chuckles here and there. That's all I could offer. Because if I opened my mouth, I knew I'd break the rhythm - his rhythm.
The whole time, one thought kept repeating in my mind:
Do I feel jealous, envious towards him Or just... angry at myself for not becoming more?
Then he said something that cut through everything,"Do you know how badly my father scolded me for being fourth while you were third? But my mother told me... 'No matter how many marks he gets, in the end, he'll just be a barber like his dad.' That somehow shaped my life."
Did he really say that? Or did I imagine it?
Hard to tell. My memory tends to blur when it hurts.
He kept talking... How he once envied me, how much he loves his wife and kid, how he'll never come back to this dirty country.
And then, after half an hour, he finally asked:
"What about you? Your younger brother's married already, right? When are you getting married? Love or arranged? He lit another cigarette and stared at me - like I was a blank page. Like he was getting ready to write my story for me.
"Honestly... nothing much has happened in my life," I said. I still don't remember your name. "It's just shop to home. Home to shop. A routine." So I tried to fish it out. "I heard you donated to the temple recently. Did you put it in your name or your father's?"
"You know me," he said. "I never would've - but my mom insisted. You'll see my name on that bench across from the temple." Still didn't say it. Now it was starting to annoy me. "Uhm… what's your daughter's name again?" If I could learn her surname, maybe I'd remember his.
Before he could answer, my brother stepped out of the shop. "Your break's over," he said. "It's been half an hour."
My old classmate put on a painted look of sadness and said, "Then... bye."
And just like that, he was done. Strangely, that's the moment all my thoughts finally pinned down themselves.
Anger? No.
Jealousy? Not really.
Envy? Maybe, for a second.
At the end it… was nothing.
Just numbness. Even toward myself.
He showed me his new car which was parked across the road. Said he bought it for his father. Was even teaching him how to drive. We started crossing the road, and he kept talking about how much he cared for his parents...
And Then...It happened. A truck came out of nowhere. I saw it. He didn't. Maybe he was too caught up in his own story.
I pushed him.
The truck hit me.
There's dark every where... Am I dead? Will my life be seen in a flash... Why am I still conscious? Am I in a coma....no, After hit by truck I should have died right! Will people think that I died while saving him or they will realize that I wanted to run away from myself for that I jump while pushing him hard... In my whole life I was weak, coward.... Did nothing with my life... Is being weak a sin then I must be going to hell...
Why this memory appears.... I don't want to relive this memory.... Even after death I will not know peace!
I was never a bad student, I always remain in top five in class while I was in high school. Other than study another thing I was good at. Cricket. Especially as a batsman. I was pretty popular in my village... I never dreamt of playing in a stadium though... I was really good at study, so my parents thought I might pick my family up in the society. All that dream shattered one day. I was playing on the field I had already scored 21 run, in last ball If I score 4. The match will be won by our team. So In the heat of the moment I swung my bat back so I can hard hit the ball. The bat fractured the collar bone of the wicket keeper. The wicket keeper was a big businessman's only son, came here to the village for vacation.
Me and my family went to apologize that day. We thought everything will be alright giving it some times. But no.
In few months I was going to graduate from high school. One day I was coming back from my tution, evening. Some guys circled around me and took me to an empty building. They beat me up. I couldn't do anything or I didn't want to do anything as I know why am I getting punished for. After they beat me so hard that I can not move. I lost conscious two three times. Many bones shattered, then they proceed to attack my genital with rod. That moment I was dead... After that my body went on auto pilot for seven years.
What!!? Why am I seeing his face among those who assaulted me that evening!!?? Yes, I can remember now who is he... That evening he was one of the attackers... Why I saved him? Huh! Now am I blaming myself for jumping to save him! I wanted to jump... If I ever get a chance to rewrite my story... I will make my story meaningful... Above all I will be strong. So strong that darkness cannot touch me.
The darkness everywhere disappeared. Am I in heaven.. I can see sky, sun but not sun its more yellowish... I can see trees... My hands..! My hands why are these small!.. Why can't I speak? But I'm crying??!!
Am I reincarnated?