The Heart of a Human

Her right eye was a mashed up mess of matter – a mangled blur of grey. The left one,

although still resembling an eye, was mostly white inside. There was nearly no trace of a pupil.

Some of the skin of her face was fused with that of the neck. The lips were parted as if the

molten skin forbade them from meeting.

“Did you read this news? Of the acid attack victim and her boyfriend?” I asked mother,

who was sitting beside me, sipping her morning tea. “This man, who didn’t even know the girl

from before the incident, left his job to care for her when she went home from the hospital. Once,

when her mother wasn’t around he even cleaned up after her when she wet the bed.” Ma

stretched her hand out for the paper.

I continued, “But marrying her is entirely something else, no? I mean… well… he’ll face

a lot from others around him – rebukes, insults and whatnot! Friends, neighbours, family

members – maybe even from his own parents! In spite of that…” I couldn’t hide either the

surprise or the admiration towards this man who had so much love and compassion even during

these times. “I hope I have a heart as big.”

“How do you know he didn’t marry her for money?”

My happy train of thought being cut off, I was about to respond. But she carried on, “Or

he could be a criminal who’s been to jail. Maybe he also has some physical or psychiatric

problems. You know,” she now turned to my father doing yoga, “I had seen one such case in our

neighbourhood when I was young. This girl named…”

Even though I wanted to, I knew arguments with me pained my mother. “The world isn’t

entirely evil just because someone believes it to be so,” I thought as I left for my room.
 It wasn’t long before I heard mother shout from the kitchen.

“The fennel seeds are gone again!” As I walked in, I saw that it couldn’t be disagreed

over any more – there father’s digital kitchen scale was, testifying her claim. It really was a few

grams less than the day before.

“See! I told you the seeds are disappearing at night. I just don’t understand! If it were a

mouse or a cat – if they even ate fennel seeds at all – the polythene bag should have been ripped

apart on the very first day. This is the third time in three days and always some amount of seeds

have disappeared without the least trace.”

I agreed, “It baffles me too. Don’t worry. I’ll keep watch tonight.”

Music sounded strange that night as I sat in the dark kitchen plugging only one earphone,

keeping the other ear free to catch any sound. Even in utmost boredom, I dared not do anything

that turned on the phone’s light. After about an hour, I could bear it no longer – I had to relieve

myself. No sooner had I walked in and shut the door of the toilet, I felt a strange smell slowly

waft into my nose. As I did my deed, the smell grew more pungent. I instantly knew it could only

be one thing (no, not me) – the creature!

I flew out of the toilet as soon as I was done. Just as my eyes fell on the kitchen window,

I saw what may have been – bewilderingly enough – wings! And they seemed to be unusually

large. There was a crack in the air as those wings fought the wind to fly straight up. I rushed to

strain my neck through the window – nothing. I quickly turned to the bag of seeds. It was there –

where it always is. I put it on the scale. Yes – less again!

 Two thoughts struck me at the same moment – what would I tell mother and what was

this thing? “A bird?” I was really confused. “Some kind of a giant owl maybe? But how is it

reaching the bag? How is it opening it?”

About two months later, monsoon arrived on a June afternoon. The skies turned a strange

pale green. The wind began to howl and bang the doors and windows. Even before the three of

us could manage to close all of them, we felt the raindrops lash against us. Ma turned off the

electrical connection and lit a candle as it began to thunder. This time I couldn’t make fun of her

for being afraid – it seemed to be lightning right above our building. Each time the rumble shook

our ears and made our hearts tremble.

After some time, all of us at the dinner table heard a distinct rattle of the kitchen window.

“Didn’t you close it properly?” asked my mother with the usual apprehension.

“It was not even me that went into the kitchen,” I replied as I got up to check.

Ma was beginning to wonder what was taking me so long at the kitchen. Naturally, she

was more perplexed when I came out and without a word, started walking straight to the door.

“What’s going on? Who’s at the door?”

“My friend Maya,” I said while unlatching the door, “got totally drenched in the rain.”

There she was – her pale white skin, looking strange in the distant yellow flame of the

candle. A fresh, gaping cut lay across her lips – all the blood had drained away from it. “Come,”
I said. As she leant on me and limped inside, I could see a good part of her hair was missing too

– it seemed to have been wrenched from somewhere it got stuck. Even her dress bore tears in

places. She looked like a rag doll that had been picked up and battered against walls by the

merciless winds.

“Poor girl! What has happened to you?” Mother was shocked as she walked up to the

sofa where Maya sat. But before I could turn around from shutting the door which was banging

against the wall in the wind, ma had come too close and touched her.

The only time in my life I had heard someone scream like that before was when my aunt

was climbing the stairs of the hospital where my cousin lay – dead.

“Oh my God! What are these on her back?” Mother jolted back. Her eyes popped out, her

lips trembled. No words came out – only stupefied groans.

“Understandably,” I thought to myself. At least she is seeing Maya when the day’s light

still isn’t out entirely. Imagine what happened when I first saw her at the dead of night – all

alone.

“It’s okay ma. She’s a good friend. She’s hurt her wings badly in the storm. See – this

wing is almost broken off in the middle. And look at the feathers! Please ma, let her stay – don’t

be scared. Ma?”

THE END