The Swing : Episode 01

By Rashmi Bhura

My name is Maithili and I am an ardent lover of two things; the sky and walks. I can gaze at the sky all day as if it is reading poetry to my eyes. I see the thinly scattered white clouds drawing patterns on the pure blue sky and my heart prostrates itself inside me. It is like falling in love, over and over and over again. I have seen and loved so many patterns of these white clouds, and every time I have wished I had a camera that could not only freeze exactly how my eyes saw the sky overhead, but the same moment and the same feeling and I could relish it till eternity.

I stay in the little flat all day. But as soon as the sun decides to go on its good-bye path, I cannot control my urge to get out and feast on the sky and the wind. I have had the habit of walking around the neighbourhood back home. And in this new place too, all I can think of is to walk and traverse each path I can with my pair of legs and all their strength. The day I came here, I kept looking out at all the lanes and parks that I crossed on my way from the Airport. Yesterday, I went to a street that opens on the right of the outside of our Apartments. It was a very narrow residential lane and I walked with my headphone playing all my favourite songs. I walked for two hours, lazily strolling down lane after lane, choosing randomly between left and right. I kept noticing every house, lip-syncing with the lyrics of the songs, one after another.

Today, I am going another way. Straight ahead. Just at the corner of the street from where it joins the main road, is a park. It is attached to a small hospital. Filled densely with bushes and flowering trees, it has a small jogging track, a little sheltered area with two long benches arranged at ninety degrees, and a couple of structures scattered in the middle area, serving as open gym instruments. It is hardly an evening yet. But the sky is a strange mixture of pink and ash-grey colour. The clouds are thick and heavy, but it is not the cold that brings rain. It is in some sense gloomy. There are few people here today. I boost myself to take a couple of rounds of the jogging track. In a corner, there is a set of swings. Blue swings, hanging lower than usual. The metal structure of the swings is worn out and covered with cuscuta like parasitic creepers.

Two children are playing there. A girl of four or five years and a boy younger than her by a year or so. They see me, and the boy calls out to me, quite loudly, to say 'Hi'. I smile warmly. I love kids. They remind me of my childhood and all the playtime we had, which I think I outgrew too soon.

I walk on, still listening to the songs playing on and on. The audio through my headphones keeps cracking like the pitch of a crow’s call. One of my favourite songs has very spooky music, but the lyrics are very soothing. I listen to it on repeat, while the cracking continues, and go on walking for two more rounds, before I notice that the park is now empty, and only the two kids are playing by themselves, hanging on the swings. The little girl keeps nodding her head in all directions, as though she is replying to some sounds in her head, or listening to some song like I am.

She never looks at me directly but continues playing with the boy and nodding her head. They seem, quite strangely though, as if they are in two different worlds. By the time I finish my fourth round, the boy is no more there and the girl is playing alone. I smile to myself and join her on the other swing. I feel so happy inside that I instantly start swinging with full force. I remember my school days when I would always run to the swing and not leave it for hours.

My thighs ache and it feels funny inside to realize that I am growing big and growing old. I turn left to look at the girl. She is still on the swing smiling to herself and nodding her head strangely to some music. I cannot restrain a smile looking at her. She is wearing a beautiful and simple frock with ruffled sleeves. Suddenly she turns to me and stares right into my eyes with a piercing look. Her smile widens. Her lips stretch so much that they almost touch the edge of her ears. I fall into some sort of delirium unable to break free my gaze from her. Her eyes change colour, from brown to transparent glass. It is so sudden and so rapid. Her eyes change like a dozen colours and finally start growing darker until it’s all black. From her pupil to iris to the sclera, all turn black. I feel cold and blank. I don't even blink. And I am aware of my state, but with no will inside of me to move.

She is holding me with her eyes. Her eyes are getting bigger and bigger. I am no surer if I am even breathing or not. Everything seems to have stopped and gone blank. And suddenly, I feel a pang in my chest and close my eyes involuntarily. A loud gasp escapes through my mouth and my head falls with weight. The very next moment I regain my full strength and consciousness. I open my eyes slowly and breathe deep breaths. I look to my left and the swing is empty. But it is moving slowly to-and-fro. I quickly look around the park and it looks empty. Not a soul is there.

I try to consider what just happened and look around aimlessly. Suddenly my eyes fix on the middle of the main road that runs outside the little park. The traffic hurries aimlessly. But the air seems to have stopped. There is pressure all around. I see a figure in between the traffic. It’s the little girl standing there in the middle of the road looking at me with the same stare and with the same stretched smile. The smile seems to be spreading broader and broader. Still Her eyes bulging, ready to pop out of the rigid frame of her face. I blink for the smallest fraction of a second and she vanishes. Just like that. The air is still tight, the sky still shady. But she is gone. And the park is empty. Empty as though it was trodden. The swing beside me is hanging from one side. It's broken and dirty with dust. As though it’s been like that for years.

I walk towards the door in a confused state. I am not in my right mind. I can’t seem to understand if all that happened was real or not. The door doesn’t open. I look through it trying to figure out where lies the obstacle when I notice chains wrapped near the footing of the iron doors, and a big rusted lock lying in the middle of cobwebs and dried grass. The doors are locked from outside. I run my eyes around the park and find it in an old, wild state, unkempt and broken all over.

My confusion reaches its pinnacle. My head is swinging and my heart sinking. I was in a dead and dried park with thick chains and locks securing it close. And yet neither I nor can any other person who hears of this can explain what happened and how it happened. How did I walk through a locked door, who was that girl, who was the boy and the other people in the park? I couldn’t have possibly dreamt all of it.

( to be continued)