The open window
‘Close the window!’ she said hurriedly as the night winds howled the name, spelling out each letter with an eerie urgency. ‘It’s time for her to go to sleep!’. Her arms wrapped around the little girl, clutched at her for dear life. She carried her to the bed. And in the darkness of that room, far from the crying voices and the communal gloom that lingered outside. In the warmth and the comfort of their bodies, she felt the girl’s breathing getting slow. She concealed her safely in her arms, just like every other night. To hide her away from the monsters that lurked in the dark, ravenous and raving for an innocent soul; for the taste of fear and tears. They wouldn’t reach her here, the girl would sleep a restful sleep. She hid the child from them.
She knew that if they got to her, the little girl would smile her luminant smile, her eyes would look at them curious and excited. She would ask how they’d been, how their families were. She’d chat about the wondrous world! And the cooking recipes her grandma made, but she failed famously at making 1 round chapati. The belan rose victoriously after an easily won battle; the only remnants of the clash being the aatta in her hair and the minuscule pieces of the dough scattered along the floor. In her animated cartoon-like manner she would explain the peace that ‘havans’ give to the soul, how they create a safe and calm environment at home. Without a given reason she would shout at them for not believing in the ‘pooja people’.
She would hang upside down from their long looming shadows and pull on their crooked sharp fingers, rotten with dirt and chunks of decomposed carcasses. She would lecture them on how terrible their hygiene was and that they should wash their hands and cut their nails! She’d go on and on and on about something or the other; her train of thought on 10 different rails at once, 1000 miles per second. Her cheeks puffing up at the silliest things; a momentary outburst which would end in seemingly endless laughter.
The monsters would soften, listening to her long rants. Their eyes relaxed and their focus pinned, they would follow her around as she paced, as she ran, as she jumped; and if she was gone, they would discuss her absence. They used to hate her, her senseless rambling and annoying voice. ‘Does she never tire from this tireless pursuit of happiness? of fun? of something to do constantly?’ they would question, ‘Does the energy never run low?’. They had named her with spite in their eyes and venom in their voice; ‘The Chatterbox’ they spat. Hard, coarse words. She’d look at them and smile from ear to ear, happy with the company of the malevolent spirits, thinking of the nickname as a compliment; a sign of closeness! But they got used to her, the words once hissed at her took on a loving tone, a warm one, as if said by family. And the raspy voices became smoother, softer, kinder, still. She had predicted it. She knew.
And now, as the days went by they stayed by her, kept her company. Some would even say they kept her safe. All day long she would chat with them, in the sun of the open windows. Her grandmother would watch, charmed at the sigh. But by night she had to close them; push the horrors out and latch them away. The little girl had to sleep! She could go on forever if she willed it! So she did the needful, and she picked up the child; the yawning, complaining, sleepy child, and she walked towards the room. ‘Close the window!’ She said to the spirits, ‘It’s time for her to go to sleep!’ she shooed them gently and said ‘Go do your duties, she’ll be here in the morning waiting for you. All ready and full of energy.’ With a warm smile on her face she walked her to the bed as they howled their goodbyes to her. The half asleep girl smiled as the world faded alway and her dreams floated near.
— Giaa-Marie Raj
P.S. — Another school assignment, do tell me your thoughts and any emotions you felt were connected to this story? prose?
