CHAPTER 6 - Moving On

[If you've just landed yourself on this novel you might consider starting from here]

Previous

The lizard on the wall climbed a little higher. And then, turned around by a hundred and sixty seven degrees to face Dubleu, inviting him. For the first time Dubleu was to be subjected to the order of this world; to a primordial feeling infancy originated from, always – The captivity of the cradle. And Dubleu like all would-be infants shall throw his arms and feet in the frozen air above, in revolt. But before Dubleu falls into this abyss that shall cost him a lifetime, let us quickly slip into a recently bygone moment, for later, we shall too jump into the abyss with Dubleu and would be left with no options to return to.... you’d know where.

The first signs of Dubleu’s life were proclaimed to his mother by movement. Before that, she had the medical reports and a bellyful of anticipation, but not a life inside her. But what if Dubleu decided not to move? To spend his life in stasis?

Nothing serious.

The doctors would check what’s been happening inside Dubleu, inside his mother’s belly. Search for metabolisms. Process. Movement. And what if Dubleu’s body too decided not to show movements? To let Dubleu spend his life in stasis? Aiding him in his resolution?

Nothing to worry.

The doctors would check what’s been happening inside the metabolisms, inside Dubleu, inside his mother’s belly.....

The real battle would have been between the doctor’s medical apparatus and Dubleu’s own resolution. If the doctors were to win this battle, Dubleu’s mother would learn that she has reasons to anticipate. If Dubleu were to win this battle, he would learn that he is dead.

But for the battle, it’s too late now. Dubleu’s already there, lying in the cradle. And we, already there watching him throw his arms and feet in the frozen air above, in revolt.

And how wonderful is this gesture of a child to an onlooker. It holds us in a spell. Therefore, it would naturally be quite disconcerting if someone else pushes the hospital ward door open at that instance to break the spell. And as if that wasn’t enough, pushes himself in as well through that door.

Yes, I’ve used ‘himself’ and so you know it’s a man. But don’t expect me to describe him. For two simple reasons. Firstly, because this novel is never going to be adapted into a movie. Secondly (and more importantly), because he was a man who liked to say, “I don’t matter to others and myself”. Gosh! See I’ve already described him. Anyway, let’s move on with the tale.

Dubleu’s father wasn’t father enough when he met Dubleu for the first time. He stood a few feet away from the cradle and got up on his toes as if trying to get a better view of Dubleu. And standing right up on his toes in the same position, he tried to lean left and right to watch Dubleu from all the different angles. Once, trying to do this he started to fall.

When Dubleu started to see him in the act of falling, he knew not what accidents were. Nor how the order was supposed to be. But there was something about the expression and the stern muscles that seemed very unusual to Dubleu. So, when Dubleu was fuming that he couldn’t move up like the lizard on the wall, he saw in his father’s eyes, fear of a form of movement itself. Confused, Dubleu decided to stop throwing his arms and feet in the frozen air above, in revolt.

But Dubleu’s father saved himself from falling by holding onto the edge of the bed on which Dubleu’s mother had been lying. And after he had restored his body to balance, he looked at her, rubbing some invisible strains off his shirt and smiled, awkwardly. It was the smile of “I don’t matter to myself and others.”

Much like us, all this while Dubleu hadn’t looked at his mother. Now, watching his father smile he turned towards her. And he noticed in her face the same sternness as he had noticed clouding over his father’s entire body as he had been falling. She was looking straight into Dubleu’s father’s eyes like a blind woman. As if his eyes or even the man was never seen to exist in the room. Unperturbed. Unmoved.

“I’m sorry” Dubleu heard his father say, “I was too excited to see him. Can I.... you know.... just once...” he said spreading both his arms towards Dubleu’s cradle looking at his mother all the while. But she still kept looking past him as if he had never existed in the room. Unperturbed. Unmoved.

Dubleu’s father pulled his hands back, pushed them in his pocket and then trying to stand a bit more straight, asked – “But don’t you think I’ve smarted myself enough to become a father? You know, I’ve been trying to work very hard on this.” He brought a few pieces of folded paper out of his pocket and held it above his head.

Dubleu was trying too hard to study each of these movements very carefully. Already it seemed to Dubleu that both movement and the absence of it were too complex. And he had been trying too hard to think if there might be a third option which might be a little more simpler to comprehend. And so drenched was he in this thought that he didn’t even notice his father slip out of the room quietly.

Dubleu wondered if that could be the third option his father always chose.

CHAPTER 5 - The First Three

[If you've just landed yourself on this novel you might consider starting from here]

Previous

It all began with a yawn. A yawn which has always been like a smile. The perfect non-being that spreads across your face. And for a moment you forget yourself. As if you had no past. Or memories. Now, before you start thinking too deep on the association, let me just set them apart. For the truth is that no one had ever smiled within a yawn or yawned within a smile. They could never go together like laughter and tears can. A smile and a yawn, therefore, are always isolated from each other. The way I never want it to be. And ways (I wish there were any!) in which I could change it. But the order of this world is too rigid and….. Wait a second! He realized, right at that instance, that the order of the world could be changed just as easily as his father’s lessons to him – All one had to do was shake his head in a desperately cruel sort of way. Yes, yes, I’m quoting a line from the 2^nd chapter, but don’t you see that’s all I need. So, I’ll just shake my head “in a desperately cruel sort of way” and let the tale begin, once again.

It all began with a yawn and a smile. Together.

Before he was to be born, the doctors had promised Dubleu’s mother that she would have a pre-mature baby. She had anticipated this and the doctor’s words assured her of the same. But then, she kept on anticipating with Dubleu showing very little intent on springing out of her belly. Almost too comfortable in there. As for his mother, she, like all would-be moms, wished to take him in her arms. Tending him.

For about a month she sat beside the window waiting for Dubleu to move. To show her the intent of breathing the free air. And he showed none. And she waited – staring outside the window. It was almost as if Dubleu would come tracing the long, straight road that led to their home. She waited.

After about a month there were the first signs…. No, not of Dubleu’s homecoming…. The first signs of her exhaustion. The intermingling of tiredness and boredom. It suddenly occurred to her that she hadn’t slept all this while. And therefore, she decided to yawn.

And Dubleu decided, too.

That morning when Dubleu woke up inside her belly, for the first time he didn’t like it in there. It was dark and claustrophobic. Well, it had always been dark in there - In this world where he lived. But he remembered that there used to be lots of empty spaces. Lately, this world had shrunk. Its darkness had become darker. And as he thought further he imagined there might be more empty spaces outside this world and who knows, maybe even a lesser form of darkness? And being just the over-optimist he was about to become, he decided to knock on the walls of this world, hoping that someone out there would listen to him.

All this while, Dubleu had thought of himself to be an atheist. He believed there were no super-natural forces guiding his life. And of course, there was no species that one might call – ‘un dieu’ – A God. The reason of his life was simple. He had an existence because he existed. No more, no less. That was before today. Today he felt a strong urge to believe that there were forces outside…. Maybe, even a god.

And so he knocked. Hard.

His mother had just began to yawn, when she heard the first knocks. Yes, it was certain there was movement. Not having enough time to complete her yawn, she started to smile inside it.

When Dubleu was born the first thing he noticed was ‘the lesser form of darkness’. And not only was the darkness so less that it hurt his eyes but had an even stranger property – ‘Variation’. You could differentiate one part of the darkness from another. Slowly, he kept learning that these variations had many names – ‘color’, ‘shape’, ‘size’ etc…. and not all of those meant the same. As Dubleu grew up his dissatisfaction with words only kept growing. I could discuss some of these with you at this point, but Dubleu asked me not to (let the poor fool have it his way this time). As for Dubleu’s word dilemma, remind me when I reach the correct section and I’ll tell you.

The second thing that Dubleu noticed after his birth was God. He had brought his thumb out of his mouth as it (or rather, she – as he’d later learn it’s been said) took him in her arms and looked at him in wonderment. At this moment Dubleu realized that he must have had a ‘variation’ too and for a while he started believing that his ‘variation’ must have been an even frightening one, until she said –

“My God, you’re Chooo oodly-woodly”

Dubleu’s dilemma with words could have started right here, but at that instant he concerned himself with something else. “My God”- did she say? So, do gods worship other gods? The ones they had never seen? And what if there are some gods who are atheist themselves? How do they themselves exist? And so, Dubleu decided that he’d once again keep believing what he had been believing all these days – He had an existence because he existed.

The third thing that Dubleu noticed after his birth was a creature on the wall with a strange variation. They called it a lizard.

Next

CHAPTER 3 - Flesh

[If you've just landed yourself on this novel you might consider starting from here]



Previous

It was always difficult for Dubleu to differentiate his thoughts. To set one apart from another. Dubleu felt all his thoughts were sticky. Always ready to overlap. Become one. He frequently wondered if he should call this a unification of thoughts or a diversification. But whatever this was it always left his head clogged and moist. So, he decided to call them his damp thoughts.

Tonight, Dubleu found himself frequently confused between the image of the lizard and her.

Dubleu knew what this would mean for the readers. They are far more prone to find symbolisms in situations as such than there often really is, in the reality. Dubleu knew for himself that his thoughts were mostly meaningless but he found it hard to convince others of the same. When he had signed the contract with me he would have seldom thought that his thoughts would become this important. Dubleu never used to think of his thoughts. But now for the sake of the readers, Dubleu would not only have to think of his thoughts but think more specifically on what to think of his thoughts.

I just found that in the last paragraph I had written a sentence like – Dubleu knew for himself that his thoughts were mostly meaningless but he found it hard to convince others of the same. Most definitely not a statement that should be ideally introduced in the third chapter. Without the order of the particular events that sentence is more meaningless than Dubleu’s thoughts. And I know Dubleu won’t exactly be praiseworthy of the fact that I’d brought it up over here. Anyways, I’ll have to deal with Dubleu and that sentence later on; right now, let’s get back to the story.



Specific thoughts.

She didn’t like lizards. Niether in person, nor as delicacies.

Shit! What does that mean? Be more specific.

She didn’t like lizards. Not even in person, let’s leave out the question of those being served as delicacies because she hadn’t been eating them.

Oh no! That’s worse. Much worse. Come on, think think think. Think before it’s too late.

Ah! Got it!

She didn’t like lizards. Living or dead. When she had found a battalion of ants celebrating one its corpses, eating through it, she had asked Dubleu –

“What do they find so delicious about that?”

“Flesh.” Dubleu had answered innocently.

“But ants never ate lizards. I dunno but I think they’re poisonous.”

“Maybe, they’re eating him now ‘coz he’d been eating some of them when he was alive.”

“You mean, revenge? But what help would that be?”

“Ants have their own civilizations. And with civility comes severity.”



Tonight, Dubleu found himself frequently confused between the image of the lizard and her. When the lizard waltzed inside his head, so did she. At times he wished he was there inside his own head. He wanted to waltz with her. But the lizard won’t leave her alone. The lizard took her away in the hidden corners of his head. And his head-ek would return. He would find the world outside becoming hazy and dark, once more. And his world inside would illuminate.



I see this same illumination coming back to Dubleu a few days later, when he’d run out of a room filled with strangers and her, and run through the hallway. On his way he’d step on the last lizard that he’d find dead. And it’d change everything about the two worlds.

Next

CHAPTER 1 - Lizard

Lizards always died inside his room. But for the stench that his room would always bloom in within a few phenomenal hours, Dubleu never understood if the misfortune was meant for the lizards at all. And there were other facts too. He could swear, for one, that there were no lizards in his room except for times when they were dead. Moreover, the corpse of the dead lizards (whatever that means!) were always to be discovered in the same place – inside his waste basket, so that Dubleu never had to go hunting for the corpses. It was almost as if the corpses… or rather, the lizards had taken extra care to make the event of their death look perfect. Dubleu could swear (once again. Yes, swearing is one of his manias) that they died in the exact posture, every time. I’d rather call it “every time” because Dubleu had come to believe that it was the same lizard that had been dying in his room over and over again.

“You’re no lesser mad. Are you?” is what she’d say, “There’s a lizard inside your head, Dubleu.”

Dubleu never told any of these to her for he knew what she’d say. But even when he thought of telling any of these to her he could still feel the headache surge inside his skull, feeling the lizard move inside his head.

Tonight wasn’t like any night. It was darker. Perhaps, it was so because Dubleu had been approaching a phenomenon called Nyctalopia (Dear Mr. Author, we all know you’re good with medical terms. You won’t really want to scream it in your reader’s ears. Okay, so ‘Dubleu had been approaching a phenomenon called night-blindness’) and if you’d ask him he could swear (for the third time) that he had no idea of anything as such happening. It was always the same with Dubleu. All his complications were frighteningly simple to him. Let’s take tonight, for example.

When he entered his room tonight, it was darker than the darkness. He knew all his mindless accessories were lying scattered all over the floor. He didn’t bother to find his way through all of those to the light-switch. He knew exactly where the stench had been originating from. He walked straight towards the waste basket, picked it up with whatever there was underlying the lizard and threw all of it straight out of the window. Never for once did it occur to him that the switchboard was exactly in the midway from his door to the basket.

And whenever he had been unmindful like this, he could feel the lizard waltz inside his head.

Next