#CosmoShortStories The Wait: a Tale of Hope by Novoneel Chakraborty

This is another world. No phone, no Internet, no newspaper, no house help, no need to remain prim and proper. The absence of a phone and the Internet is actually my doing. I’m done with people. Living in this isolation, I don’t feel like talking to anyone except for reminiscing about my past relationship.

 

The Internet has been suspended in this area because of a major fault a few days back but before it could have been rectified, the nation was subjected to a lockdown. Humans, to save humans, were asked to stay away from humans. You may say isolation doesn’t necessarily mean disconnection. But it’s been two weeks this way. And now I don’t feel like reaching out to anybody. Somewhere in these two weeks, I’ve gotten used to being with myself even if it means loitering around quietly within this one-BHK flat in Mumbai. Or listening to the chirping of birds. Or simply staring at the night sky framed by the bedroom window. Or seeking out a melody in the social silence around. Or, taking my own sweet time to do everything and nothing. Suddenly, it feels like there’s nobody in this world except me. Well, it would have been completely true if there were no memories as well.

 

I broke off recently. The last two weeks allowed me to immerse myself into memories and introspect about my last relationship. The good times, the bad times and the time which lead to our break off. I tried to warn but, as usual, my warning wasn’t taken seriously. I was told that I was being too moralistic. My problem is I don’t argue much. I put forward my point once: take it, or leave. He left it. We separated.  

 

The digital clock atop my study tells me I’ve entered the 15^th day of isolation. I’m about to resign to yet another night of self-analysis, when I hear someone unlocking the main door. Who can it be? I’m alert. As I stand behind the curtains, I see five people stepping inside with urgency. Three men and two women. All of them are wearing face masks. While three of them are wearing bodysuits too along with eye goggles. The kind people wear to insulate themselves. The ones wearing only the mask are a man and a woman. They are crying. I can make out from the sound. The ones in bodysuit help them get inside the bedroom. I change my position to get a better view. While the woman is made to lie down on the bed, the man is asked to stay put in the flat for two weeks. They tell him they have kept two large bags, which has all the medicines and grocery items, beside the couch in the hall room. The three people in bodysuits leave immediately. I can make out they have locked the door from outside. As the man and the woman in mask converse, I have a smile on my face after two weeks. I gather the woman is pregnant and the delivery will happen soon.

 

I gear myself up for yet another relationship which can happen anytime. After all, I’m a soul looking for my beloved which people call…body. The couple shouldn’t look below the bed though. My ex lies there. And it may lead to unnecessary panic and questions. Here’s hoping that my isolation will get over in a matter of few weeks, I finally feel at peace with myself.

 

Author  Novoneel Chakraborty