Nothing

In science, nothing also means something. It can be something that has been missed, or something that has appeared at a different point than expected. How can then one write about nothing and get away with filling up a page with words?

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The sweat poured down the back on a winter’s day with slow impatience. Obnoxious odours emanated from the indefatigable obese, giving goose bumps. The underwear stuck in discomfort inside the trousers of the tourist in the dilapidated building while he debated whether the house was haunted or he was having a dehydration-induced hallucination. The legs cramped up and the heart was in tachycardia. The long hair stood on its end, as the hands touched something, sending out a spray of sweat which was slowly running down his hair.

The man in the mauve suit had the sniffles. In a sudden epiphany, he discovered that his suit was made of linen which was not at all suited to his physique. A train passed by and the headlamps shone through two odd holes in the wall, which glistened momentarily like two flaming unworldly eyes.

The backpack was not on his back. The telephone was in his backpack. He was without any means of communication. A loud wailing noise burst through the eastern skies. The legs moved backwards automatically, but the man in the mauve suit was facing the west. Realising his mistake, and reprimanding himself for it, he took four step forward. Turning on the axis was a difficult option at this point.

Facing the impending danger was useless. He didn’t have the means to defend himself. Moreover, everywhere it was dark. His glasses were in his backpack, and his backpack was not on his back. Maybe it was nearby, but he couldn’t find it without light and without his glasses. He had lost. He was lost. There was no way he could redeem himself from this mess.

The hands felt a cold touch as he probed around, and he attempted to sit. Just when he thought he had reached the lowest point in his life, he slipped and tumbled through a large gaping orifice and slid through it beneath the surface of the earth. He went down gracefully, and gave up his prayers for redemption.

The chute through which he rapidly slid was slimy and covered with moss. Suddenly he was thrown out of it, and fell splash into a pool of water. The water wasn’t deep enough to drown him, but the man in the mauve suit was now a colour of brown if one could see in the dark.

He was trapped.

The night rolled on. The earth rotated on its axis, till the sun shone again, like a radiant meatball of fire. The man had fainted long ago.

When he woke, he found himself being carried out by paramedics. When asked, where he was, the paramedics answered, “The riverside fair grounds. You got stuck in the Haunted House.”

The man in the brown suit which was originally mauve, was disappointed. He thought he finally experienced something he could talk about to his friends. Now he felt embarrassment. And on that oppressive chilly morning, the sweat poured out of his back with slow impatience, and he emitted the last batch of malodour from the evening’s chilli con carne, re-entering the grand misery of his pointless life, feeling nothing.

Dwaipayan Adhya