The Oblivion by Pratheep Nair

Standing by the side of the toddler bed, I watched my little girl sleep tight, cuddled between the blankets, the right thumb in her mouth and the left hand stretched away at an acute angle to her body. The LED night bulb on the wall cast a crooked shadow of me across the room, over the window curtain that waved in the gust of cool air from the vent on the floor. I moved away from the path of the light at the thought of my daughter screaming at my monstrous silhouette, went near the bed and examined her skin in whatever light available. It looked silky, smooth, devoid of any blisters.

I wanted to touch and feel her; but moved away, repelled by the thought of awakening the sleeping beauty. The blanket had come off on one side exposing her little toes. I lugged the blanket, left the room and went back to my bed. The feeling of knowing that my little princess was perfectly all right made me contented. As I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, the dream that awakened me and sent me to my daughter’s room started to play again in front of my eyes.

Myriads of blue-clad coolies, drifters in their grimy rags, merchants with heavy sacks on their shoulders and backs, vendors selling food laden with flies, crowded the train station. Like ants emerging out of a disrupted pheromone trail, they clustered the dirt-ridden platform. Everyone was in frenzy. Amidst the engine whistles, loud vendors and screeching metal on metal, the public address system blared something inaudible into the air.