Senses

“The first of the five senses that a man loses while dying is the sense of smell. The last is auditory. So in affect, you can hear all that is happening around you even after you are dead!” Professor Rosario, at the National Institute of Neuroscience explained. The projector showed the picture of a human brain on a large screen.

Bryan shuddered at the thought of being able to listen to the cries around as one dies. He was feeling very uneasy with the professor’s speech. He could feel the hair at the back of his neck raise and touch the collar of his shirt. A loner most of the time, Bryan had his own share of mental troubles. With a disposition bordering on a personality disorder, he was prone to severe bouts of depression. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony of doing his masters in a subject that concerned that part of human anatomy that he had the most troubles with: MIND.

To deal with his troubles, Bryan used two methods. The first was daydreaming. He would let his mind wander at just about every time. Whether he was in bus, standing in a queue or in the class, he would set himself on autopilot, so to speak. He had mastered the art of dreaming with his eyes open and feigning attentiveness. No professor had ever found out about this habit of his.

Second method was Drugs. He did drugs and did it hard! Over the years he had made friends with a very well guarded network of drug peddlers who supplied him with the best of the stuff in town. He was one of their genuine and regular customers. Of course, he had alcohol, especially vodka, as accompaniment. Drugs and alcohol would help him blur the lines of his existence. The existence which was devoid of love, an existence which was crippled by the past, an existence so paralyzed, it made no sense to him to be even alive.

He had but one silver lining in the dark murky clouds shrouding his life. JASMINE. This was not the name of the girl in question. Bryan had given her the name. Jasmine owned a small shop where she sold flowers. Every day, after college, Bryan would walk down Avenue Street and drink coffee at Johns’ that was adjacent to Jasmine’s little floral shop. While people took the chairs overlooking the street, he would invariably sit on the chair farthest away, so he could watch Jasmine and her voice. He would sit there for hours. For the while she was in front of him, coffee felt better than all the alcohol in the world. He even contemplated leaving it altogether for her sake.

“Honey, look what I got for you!”

Jasmine takes the flowers and kisses him lovingly. They are happily married now. Their eyes meet. He could see his own reflection in her brown eyes and thinks whether this is the best sight to behold in the whole world. Oh! How lovingly she looks at him. His life feels complete, his life feels sublime his life........

Rude awakening.

“Sir, would like to have another coffee? We are closing so kindly place your order now.” The waiter was aware of the daily ritual and knew the drill. Bryan, noticing the closed flower shop, would take out a $ 10 bill, place it on the table and leave, without bothering to take the change.

Back to his personal hell. Drugs and Vodka. He always had enough supplies, so he never ran out of them. A sniff of heroine……his mind, for reasons unknown felt alive now. He then proceeded to make himself a joint and also took out a bottle of vodka from his closet. He never bothered to dilute his drink and always had it neat. Bitter, very bitter….you would think. But he didn’t mind.

One peg down.

Two pegs down.

“I couldn’t talk to her today! Damn!!! Can I ever talk to her?? Can I do ANYTHING?? I don’t even know her fuckin’ name……..
Another peg. This was the time when he would be high enough to think and not pass out. This was the phase he dreaded the most. He had no control over his thoughts and all of his past would flash before him like an old movie in an open air theatre. Like a deja-vu, it would come to him all over again. And he could just watch and do nothing. He couldn’t stop these thoughts, cannot fall asleep, and cannot do anything to change anything.

Bryan finds himself in a graveyard. In front of him are two graves. “Mom…? Dad…?” he mumbles. But how the hell did this happen? And cut to another scene…….

People all around……it seems like a party. Bryan recognizes the red and green carpet of his living room, the picture of him in football gear with a trophy beside him, his guitar with Bruce Springsteen’s autograph and the trophy rack with innumerable medals, trophies and shields. Nice boy this Bryan, he thought as if he was talking of a Bryan he knew no longer existed. In the corner of the room, he spots his parents. They are laughing and chatting merrily, visibly proud of him.

The next instant, he is behind the wheels of his Cadillac, with his parents on board. The radio plays “Born In The USA……” by Springsteen. The three are singing along aloud. A white light suddenly engulfs everything. Gradually, white gives way to red. A warm, thick, dark red with a sickening smell to it. His parents are lying in the middle of the road, blood pouring out of their skull…..

“MOM, DAD!! CAN YOU HEAR ME?? WAKE UP!! CAN YOU HEAR…….”

“…….so in affect, you can hear all that is happening around you even after you are dead…….”

Alcohol and drugs were taking their full effect by now, but he couldn’t seem to shut his past. The professor’s words pounded in his head. It made him even more depressed and then, a horror set in. Were his parents able to hear him when he was calling out for them? Did they know they were dying? Were they even aware it was HIS voice? He could take it no more. He drank and drank until he passed out completely, wasted enough so that even dreams wouldn’t come.

Next day, he woke up late and decided to skip his classes. He thought of Jasmine and went to the coffee shop beside Jasmine’s shop. He took his seat as usual and resumed his ritual of observing Jasmine.

He noticed how graceful she looked even in plain green T-shirt and jeans. Her T-shirt had a yellow flower printed on it. She let her brown hair lose and they bounced and swayed as she moved or nodded while talking. She would smile at every customer. So lost was he in his observation that he never noticed that even she would steal a look at him from the corner of her eye. Not only today, but always. She had noticed this stranger looking at her everyday. At first, she thought he was a stalker but realized over time that he meant no harm. She grew accustomed to his presence and missed him the few times he would not turn up.

That day, she decided to approach the stranger. She locked her cash drawer and started to walk towards him. Bryan saw her coming towards him. He didn’t now what to do. He was flabbergasted. “She’ll call the cops now…..she must have had enough of me staring at her all day……I’m gonna lose her….” He thought. In his confusion, he got up and started to run away from her. He decided to run across the street.

A loud honk, screeching of rubber on the road and a dull thud…….

The same red, dark, thick liquid, the smell and warmth of which Bryan knew from his nightmares accompanied this. He was lying in a pool of blood.

Blurring of sight….followed by no sense of pain. Bryan’s mind however processed something. He heard a lot of confusion, some frantic calls for an ambulance. He also heard a sob in a familiar voice….

“Marcia, do you know this guy?”

“No, but I loved him. If only he could hea…..”