Man:

I had not a slightest idea that you were going to kill me. I had not seen any hint of violence in your
beautiful butterfly eyes. Those were the eyes I cannot ever forget. Even now, when I can see nothing
but a black void stretching as far as I can see...I can never forget those beautiful... butterfly...eyes.

My memory is fading as time passes... But to tell the truth, now, I have no idea of the progress of
time. In fact I cannot even tell how long has it been since I was dead. All I can say is I was probably
dead a long time ago. But I am still confused ... why did you kill me?

I have to know why you killed me, or else may be I won't be able to get... peace, at least I think so;
that's what I used to see in the movies and read in the stories, the only difference is that this time...
it's for real!

Let me begin by recalling the day when we first met. You were shy and looking at me with such a
gaze, I couldn't resist smiling. Of course you were very small then, I do not remember my own age at
that time, as I have already clarified that my memory is degrading. But I m sure, not quite sure, but
still obvious that I might have been 5-6 years, and you were 5 for sure. I knew you loved me already.
I could see it in your beautiful butterfly eyes.

The second time that we met was immediately after 5 years of that day in the park. I think you
might have had already forgotten me then. And sure you did. But I did remember you. You were so
much distinguishable with your distinct and unique beautiful big brown butterfly eyes.

I think my mind is playing games with me, but I come to think as if I saw you first when we were
married already, and only later did I see you at that park, but decide yourself... how is this possible? I
came across this memory several times, all others are okay but this one is a little bit confusing. May
be after death, not only has my memory started to disappear, but it seems its getting all jumbled up,
too. Good thing that my logical thinking still exists. Otherwise I couldn't decide the order of my
memories.

So ignoring all the confusions, I recall the first day we met; we were gazing at each other. You were
holding the Barbie doll that you were playing with. And you were looking at me with such loving gaze
through those beautiful big brown butterfly eyes. All I can recall after this is the day we met after 5
years when you were about seventeen years. I might have been about nineteen. Now even at this
point I come to wonder...isn't it odd that after five years of the first time we met, we were in our late
teens when I now think that five plus five is ten and not seventeen...that's really odd.

May be this afterlife has always been like this: Always taking away the capability of the dead men to
think logically. Even my intelligence has been taken away. But I know I am different. I can fight this; I
can regain my memories and my intelligence, although I cannot regain my body. It actually might
have been burnt about a hundred years ago. And oh this black void; I cannot get rid of this. How long
has it been since I started trying to figure out why you killed me? Seems like ages, at least a decade...
or maybe more. It's so confusing. It feels like my capability of thinking is slowing down to such an
extent that recalling your memories is taking me ages...

I must push myself back... and dig up for my memories. I cannot tolerate this void any more. So now
I shall neglect everything else, every confusion and assume that five plus five is not ten, but
seventeen, because I met you for the second time when you were seventeen after five years when
you were five. There you were refusing to tell me that you knew me, shouting that you didn't know
me. I know it was hard for you to remember but I recognized you immediately seeing your
prominent butterfly eyes. I was trying to help you remember the first time we met at the park, trying
to tell you that we would be so happy together, that we were meant for each other when that
bloody boy intervened, and punched me right at my face, knocking the world out of me... Then I
remember nothing. But surely, whatever happened after that, happened for good. The next thing I
remember, we were getting married.

Why should I suffer like this? Why can't I remember how and why you killed me? I'll have to
remember... But it’s so unclear... so far away...

I must continue...

We were getting married. You were looking so beautiful with your reddish cheeks, the dark pink lips,
shy lowered eyes, those beautiful big brown butterfly eyes. You were walking around the crackling
fire, towards me, while the priest sat there chanting the holy words, those magical words which
would bind the two of us together for eternity. That’s when that small beautiful colourful butterfly
flew past you, and caught my attention. That's when I realized that your eyes fluttered just like that
butterfly; that's when for the first time I saw your eyes as beautiful as that butterfly, those beautiful
batting eyelashes and those big brown butterfly eyes...

Hey... That's weird...

Well, considering my degrading and muddled memory, I must ignore all confusion and continue.

But alas! I can remember no more. Tell me dear, please, tell me... Why did you kill me? Why... Why...

-.......

-.......

Nothing, but black void now. Nothing I can see, nothing I can remember... What am I? Who am I?
Oh yes I finally remember. I am dead. How long is it that I've been dead. It feels like it's been ages
since I was alive. And oh I remember. You killed me. You, my love of all the people, killed me. Why? I
had not a slightest idea that you were going to kill me. I had not seen any hint of violence in your
beautiful butterfly eyes. Those were the eyes I cannot ever forget. Even now, when I can see nothing
but a black void stretching as far as I can see...I can never forget those beautiful... butterfly... eyes...

Woman:

Suddenly, I see bright red. The light is blindingly bright. I cover my eyes with my hand before
I open them. The sun is shining brightly, it is 9 am already! Slowly as my eyes adjust to the light
coming through the window, I am greeted by the view of the hospital room where I have been
staying since five days to aid my husband. There he is, lying unconscious, but alive, on the white bed
with green sheets. I check the oxygen pipe. It’s okay. The heart beat monitor is beeping with its usual
regular frequency, and to my relief (the thousandth time in 5 days) he is breathing normally, and
peacefully.

But he doesn’t open his eyes. He doesn’t call me by my name lovingly as he used to, till just a
few weeks back. He doesn’t ... he can’t.

My chest is a hive for a swarm of painful memories. That’s because even the happiest
memories hurt me now, because they are mere memories, and not real. Reality is bitter, and it hurts
a lot. It just seems to intensify every other second. But I mustn’t give up. I must wait. I must wait for
him to get well. I must wait for him to gain consciousness, and yet again fill my life with joy and
happiness.

I yawned. When had I fallen asleep last night? Sure I was awake at 4 in the morning, so when did I
fall asleep? He was mumbling something about my eyes, the same old way. He called my eyes
butterfly eyes, since our marriage. We had first met in our college and at the time of our marriage,
he noticed a butterfly that just passed around me while I was walking towards the Mandap. There
the priest was chanting the holy words, and there he was, staring at the butterfly, and with a big
smile, gazed at my eyes, full of love and commitment. We were so excited. After all the rituals were
done, we started living a happy life, as we had always dreamed of.

We both worked in the same office, he as a technician, and I as the boss’s personal
assistant. Of course he didn’t like my position in the office, being a husband that was quite normal.
He used to tell me to change the job, but I kept on denying as I felt closer to him if we were working
on the same firm. Besides this, there were no any problems in our happily married life. We had a
nice house at his hometown, but we stayed in the city in a rented flat and earning and saving
together so as to build our own home.

So after two years, we had money enough to buy a small piece of land. Quite enough for a
small house we couple were dreaming to build. Work was tough for him; he used to work overtime
as well, just to save a little more money. So we were kind of isolated from the outside world. We
only occasionally visited relatives, and they rarely called in. But it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter a bit.
We had each other.

“He seems to be getting better day by day”, says the nurse, startling me out of my thoughts.
I turn my gaze away from my beloved to face a brightly smiling nurse.

“Umm... It does seem that he’s getting better”, I say, “but...”

“But he can’t speak to you, I know. The doctor has told you already haven’t he? He must be
kept in sleep until he is ready. His brain has suffered serious injury, twice in a row, and so he must b
have a long mental rest... You must wait Riva.”

She smiles at me reassuringly, but only I know how difficult it is for me. How much more?
How long will I have to wait? The doctor hasn’t told me that...yet.

“Did the doctor say how many days more?” I ask.

“He says may be a week more. Then he shall try to wake him up, slowly simultaneously
checking his brain responses. “

A week more! Time seems to pass slower and slower at these painful times. Two days
seemed like an eternity. How long will one week be? How will I tolerate him being beside me... but
so far away at the same time?

“That woman came in early morning to see your husband. She was telling that she didn’t
know...” says the nurse,”... you were sleeping then. She stayed for a while and gave her best wishes
“

I just nod my head. What should I say? What could I say?

“Is she okay? In that bus stop, was she hurt? Did she look angry with my husband?”

“Not for a second,” says the nurse. “Why should she be hurt? And she isn’t the one to be
getting angry.”

I move aside as the doctor comes in and greets me good morning with a bright smile. How
can they smile at a time like this?

“Good morning” I say, and step aside. He comes forward and adjusts the saline solution
pouch hanging beside the bed.

“Your husband does seem to be progressing day by day. But we cannot take any chances. He
has to stay like this for at least a week more.”

“Okay” I say, as if it’s my decision to keep him asleep under drugs; as if it’s in my hands.

“Well then... did you eat anything this morning?”, he asks.

 I shake my head.

“So go on then you should eat something. How can you take care of your husband if you get
sick yourself?”

Of course this doctor is very kind. After all he has done for me and my husband, how could I
have shouted at him the last time when he had announced that he couldn’t wake up my husband for
quite a long time. I didn’t know there were so many complications then. I was blinded by fear... of
loss.

“Uh... okay... I was just going. Would you mind staying with him while I’m away?”, I say in a
small voice.

“That’s all right, we are here. Don’t worry. I cannot stay, but I’ll call in a nurse. “ Saying this
he walks away, out through the door.

I place my hand on my husband’s face. He’s so silent lying there, so peaceful, yet not well.
He’s suffering, and along with him, I.

I am suffering so much, knowing, that I’m responsible, for this. I am so sorry, dear. I didn’t
want to hurt you. I didn’t want all this to happen. But again, it’s entirely my fault.

“I love so much, dear. I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want any of this to happen.”

Obviously, my mind is quite blank at the moment. I cannot decide what to say or do. All I
can do now is- wait.

Man:

... How long has it been since I started trying to figure out why you killed me? Seems like ages, at
least a decade... or maybe more. It's so confusing. It feels like my capability of thinking is slowing
down to such an extent that recalling your memories is taking me ages...

I must push myself back... and dig up for my memories

...

...

Black void...

Waves of nothingness starting from nowhere and never ending...

...we met at the park...

...we got married...

... you killed me ...

 ... we then met only after 5 years, when you were seventeen. I was waiting in the doorway
of the central library of our university, for a friend who seemed to care less about the assignment we
were to prepare and was maybe lost somewhere inside the library, reading maybe a novel. But then
you showed up.

You were wearing a pretty green dress, and a funky hat. I didn’t recognize you at first sight,
but then we both saw each other and stared at each other, just for a moment. Then the amazement,
the happiness that filled my heart was so enormous that it couldn’t be concealed, thus revealed by
an involuntary smile that ran across my face. So did yours.

We recalled each other’s last encounter five years back when I was going to school. You had
fallen into a well, which was not properly covered. I had seen you trip inside, so I had rushed to help.
But I too had slipped in a hurry and had fallen down, into the same well.

We had shouted for a quite a long time. Both drenched, yet unharmed as the well was not
too deep, and the water was warm. I had to hold you the whole time while we had been waiting for
help to arrive, so that you wouldn’t drown. I had started the conversation by asking you your name.
“Riva” you had said in a tone which proved that you were about to cry. I had been hugging you tight,
not letting you drown. You didn’t ask mine. But we talked about a lot of other things. We talked to
keep ourselves calm. We talked about my school. We talked about your school. We talked about our
likes and dislikes. We talked about almost everything, including the silliest things like how you made
silly farting sounds with your hands in the class just for fun, how I ate so much that I frequently
released such and aroma in the class, the teacher would get furious. We spoke about our secrets,
our crushes, how I flirted with my secondary school teacher, how you changed your clothes to
disguise like a boy...

The time we had together, it seemed so short when help had arrived. Your father had both
of us pulled, and seeing how I appeared to have helped you, had brought me in your house, for
dinner. That was the first and last day we met, as I had to move in to another city with my family,
the following week.

So this sudden meeting at the gate of the central library of the university I was studying in
was a surprise to both of us. I found out that you were also studying there. We talked. We stared. I
loved something about your eyes. I kept it to myself. You loved something about me. You kept it to
yourself...

...

... so clear it was... so clear the memory... I can’t recall it...

This black void of nothingness is sweeping over me. Nothing I can see... nothing I can remember.

What am i?

Who am i?

What’s this?
Oh yes I remember. I am dead. You killed me. You, dear love, of all people, killed me. Why? Why did
you kill me?

I have to know why you killed me, or else may be I won't be able to get... peace, at least I think so;
that's what I used to see in the movies and read in the stories, the only difference is that this time...
it's for real!

Let me begin by recalling the day when we first met. You were shy and looking at me with such a
gaze, I couldn't resist smiling. Of course you were very small then, I do not remember my own
ag..............

“she ... kay? ..... that bus stop ...... hurt? ...... she .... angry?”

What is this? Whose voice is this? Why does this sound echo and blur? What does it mean? Bus
stop... angry...those beautiful big brown butterfly eyes...

Oh yes, I remember. That day in that bus stop, that’s when you killed me.... we were returning back
from our anniversary celebration ... it was 9 pm and you were complaining that we were getting
late... we were waiting for a bus to go somewhere, and the sun was too much hot... while riding
towards home in my bike, you were complaining that we had got late... those beautiful butterfly
eyes... your dress too short.... I didn’t see the bus coming; the head lights blinded me... I was furious
to see you wearing so short dress, took your hand and tried to pull you away, you tried to get away
from me... there was a loud crash and I saw you thrown far away to the side of the road... a lady
tried to pull me away from you, but I wouldn’t let go, you looked scared. You picked up a brick lying
close to your leg... and hit me... so that’s how you killed me...because I was being angry with you.

I really didn’t know that it would make you so angry that you‘d kill me!

...

...

What’s left to uncover? What is it that I still do not understand? Why am I still seeing this
darkness?...

Nothing...

Nothing but dark, black void... and white spots...

White spots... black spots and white void. It is too bright... too much bright... Is it time? Am I finally
going to have peace? Was I hanging around just to figure out the reason of my death, the reason you
killed me?

The darkness is now all gone... It’s all white, and bright. Now what? Wait I can hear a voice...a
extremely low pitched distorted voice...

“.....its time...”

Of course ... Its time I leave this hell like afterlife. I need to remember, did I do any bad in my life?
Will I now go to heaven or hell? Maybe heaven, or?
Woman:

I am very happy today. The doctor says that his condition is improving. Of course it’s just been 6 days
(and a night) that he was admitted. But the doctor who was planning to keep you under sleeping
medicine for over another week has finally realized that your health is improving faster than
assumed.

“Why are you crying? Your husband’s getting well. And he might even wake up today.”

No, I am not. Or am I? I touch my face. There it is. That tiny drop of pearl of happiness... I smile.
Tears of happiness- what I heard of so many times. I experience it now for the first time.

“Oh I see” says the doctor “you are too happy. Good for you. Just thank god for this miracle. But I
must remind you of his other problem. I don’t know how he will act when wakes up.”

Oh I remember. This is not fair. But still. Something is better than nothing. I just hope he is fine when
he wakes up. Only then will I worry about that problem. Just wake up.

“When will he wake up?” I ask.

“Well, we have stopped the medications. Now it depends upon him. Just think he is sleeping and
very tired. So just wait.”

I think I should bring some flowers for him. Yes that’s a good idea.

“Umm... doctor, I am going out for a while. Could you take care of him while I am gone?” I ask
hesitantly.

“Of course I will”, replies the doctor with a pleasant smile.

My chest light as feather and mind as cool as dew, walk towards the door.

“You are going to get some food I suppose? Bring something for him to eat as well-Something salty.
He’s been living on glucose for one week. It will make him feel good when he wakes up and find
himself something tasty to eat. “

“Oh! of course. Thank you so much.”

I slowly come out of the room, and walk past the nurses and patients. Ignoring all the cries of pain of
the other patients, I make my way to towards the main gate. I finally reach the gate. A soft breeze
blows on my face, refreshing me. A sparrow flies right above my head and I look up to see it chasing
its counterpart. They look so nice playing around chasing each other, round and round.