Cranial Abyss

A whimper near my right ear awakens me. I tried shifting my head in its direction but couldn't. The other limbs didn't move either. I was pinned down. I swiftly ran a look across the room. There was no one around, but I still couldn't shake the feeling like someone was watching over me. Once again, I hear it, and at the same time, a spark flutters near my right foot.

In no time, that flash grew into a blazing fire. However, the flames didn't spread beyond that particular spot, as if being careful not to touch me. The glow emitted cut through the darkness of the room, and I could see my nana standing amidst it. She is sobbing softly. "Ssssurinderr, my poor child," she mouths while watching me. "Why am I seeing her now? It's been seven years since her death.

Fire clings to her body, and murky tears roll down her sunken cheeks when she points at my heart and says, "Shoo it away, Yasmine, it has come for you." I quickly glance over my chest area, but nothing was there. "What was she talking about?" I look back at her. She is nodding her head in disapproval.

My nana covers her face and utters agonizingly," not you too," before being consumed mercilessly by the fire. There was smoke everywhere. Suddenly, the door of my room opens. My mother walks right through the haze and stands where my nana burned. Our eyes meet. She gives me a confused look and shakes my foot. "Are you alright?" She asks on her way to the windows and draws the curtains.

My mother doesn't notice the smoke, let alone the smell. I keep lying on my bed, breathing deeply. It wasn't a dream, and neither was it real. So what exactly had I witnessed?. "Get up. You'll be late." It's past seven already " My mother's firm voice breaks my train of thought. The sun rays were hitting the walls of my room. I was never too fond of the brightness. It stings me.

I should have been panicking after what had occurred, but there were no emotions. Lately, I don't feel anything. I pushed it aside for the time being. My mind was already weighing down all the time, and every day was a struggle as it is. I dragged myself out of bed and went on with my usual routine as if nothing had happened.

It was like any other day, boring classes and chatty friends. Nothing was different except a searing pain surging on the right side of my head. I could no longer bear it and excused myself from the economics class. The sounds were hitting louder. The broad daylight was piercing. Before it could get worse, I immediately popped the painkiller and laid down on the soft grass. Was this the advent of something that I had dreaded all these years? Memories of that fateful event come running to me.

Every summer break, my mother and I would visit her parents, who stayed in a small blissful village of Himachal Pradesh with their son. My grandparents' house was built on large land with a kitchen garden, an unsymmetrical arrangement of flora, and a few mango trees. Nothing was that attractive and well kept except the two magnificent lychee trees.

They were ancient and widely spread. Sunlight failed to break through the dense webs of lush green leaves. My cousins who lived nearby and I would spend most of our time playing under their cool shade. We would climb them and enjoy the fruits. This place was our haven where nothing could ever go wrong.

At night we would scream away the giant bats that would come for lychees. We had to protect them even though it didn't make any difference. It was our thing, and we were very religious about it. One night while performing the ritual with our torches and sticks, I spotted a white bird perched on one of its lower twisted leafless branches. I got closer to see, aiming light right at it.

I find darkness staring back at me. The light never reaches those bottomless pits. It seemed to have no eyes on its white heart-shaped face outlined by brown.

"It is an owl." Whispers my cousin Arun, standing behind me.

“B..bbut its eyes' '. I stammered

"Just like two shiny marbles." My cousin adds.

"Hmm." I agree with him. Even though I don't see them.

''Scare it away before it speaks'', he cautions me.

"Why"? I asked quietly.

"It brings bad luck, even death."

As soon as those words left my cousin's mouth, the bird lowered itself, glared at me, and made a high-pitched screeching noise before leaping in the air. It was terrifying. "Pray nothing goes wrong" my cousin looks at me seriously. I didn't say anything, and we both quietly marched back to the house.

The next evening my cousins and I played hopscotch on the veranda when uncle Surinder came running out of his room. He repeatedly said, “go away, you filthy bird,” and stomped his way towards the lychee trees. He had both arms raised and hands pointed towards the sky. We all went behind him, thinking he was being playful.

We mimicked his actions innocently, standing below the trees and shooing away the birds that weren't there. "fhurrr! fhurrrr! fhurrrr!”.Our shrieky voices and giggles echoed. It was all fun until my uncle started aggressively circling below the same naked branch where the owl had been. He stared at it with a maddening look. He never did blink once, and never did he rest his arms. His eyes were all red, and so was his face. He cursed and spat at something visible only to him.

Surinder uncle was never the same after that. There were many episodes where he would fall into a blinding rage and attack people around him. Other times there would be just mellow laughs lasting for an hour. But the worst were those mind-numbing screams. He would complain of being attacked by a bird who pecked his eyes because it had none. He would swing his arms endlessly and sometimes scratch himself. That thing had indeed brought the curse upon him, which was worse than death.

It was painful to see a gentle human meet such a horrendous fate. He was 23 years old and was going to be a surgeon. Many speculations were made regarding what led to his condition. In my heart, I knew that it was because of that evil bird. I have always felt guilty about not flying it away sooner, and never again have I visited the lychee trees. Whatever the reason, the truth was that a life was wasted. A soul unforgiven. After some years, my uncle lit himself on fire and died at 36. He never stopped seeing that vile creature.

I sighed heavily. My head no longer hurt, but my heart was sinking. Was I headed towards the same path as my uncle?. Two years back, it all started with me obsessively drawing those round deep black holes in the name of eyes. I began fearing shadows and loud sounds. Then came the whispers, followed by weird smells greeting me. All that therapy and pills seldom work.

Today was a different experience altogether. I pretend not to see it. But the truth was that my nana warned me of the very same owl settled on my chest, caressing me. Its hollowness had come to take my sanity away. Don't know when and where but one of these days, I would hear it scream.

I get up, shed dirt and grass off my clothes. It was time for my next class.