Pillow Talk - A Short Fictional Story
Pari was in quarantine. It was her seventh day in isolation, or was it the tenth! She had no idea of the time. Loneliness can be a strange animal. For the first few days it was her pet, domesticated, acting on her whims. But as the days passed, the animal took over.
With sunlight fading outside her window, she surely knew it was going to be night soon. But she had lost count of the days since she was in this room. She remembered, returning from her first ever solo Europe trip, with happy memories. She had partied there a lot. As if she was trying to run away from some hard reality. When she got screened at the airport, she had fever. She was immediately brought to this government facility, where she was kept in a room with spartan amenities. All her belongings were kept in a safe and she was given a fresh pair of clothes. Her interactions were limited to the visits by doctors and nurses. Food was served regularly. What she got to eat everyday, also gave her a fair idea about the time of the day. Idlis in breakfast. Dal Rice in Lunch. Light Soup in night. She had lost her appetite by the fourth day and her fever was still high. She had never been this alone before. Long hours without talking to anyone, and being so sick from inside was totally new. She thought it was her seventh day in isolation, or was it the tenth! She had no idea of the time. For first four days, she had a lot to think about.
Her recent Europe trip ... Meeting Shawn there and a promising date with him... getting drunk on the cruise...
Her office... Colleagues... her promotion... those long nights at work... excitement around the launch...
Her first toy... Her parents' happy marriage... Her first scooter...
Her school... her friends... her break-up...
Her breakup... her marriage... her divorce...
As the days passed, her memories became darker. She wallowed in self-pity. It was her seventh day in isolation, or was it the tenth, or was it the fourth night! She wasn't sure. She had no idea of the time. She dug her face in her pillow. And that moment was the most comforting for her in days. She was sure that the pillow was talking to her. She wasn't hallucinating. She was sure about this as some one was pulling her inside the pillow. She felt a cold, comforting breeze, on her face. It wasn't the effect of medication. She was sure.
The pillow hugged her. It was the hug of a mother at times! And the hug of a lover at other times! But it was always comforting. She wasn't thinking of anything when the pillow used to hug her. No memories of the past. No plans for the future. No escape from the present, or from her hard reality. When the pillow talked, she was just there. There in the present. The pillow told her things. Things she didn't fully understand, but things that surely made sense.
The pillow told her stories, which she had always known. Stories of people with fulfilling lives, happy lives. The pillow had a strange habit of using catchphrases.
Carpe Diem, it shouted one day.
Yesterday is gone, it told the other day.
The pillow made her loneliness bearable. Loneliness was now not an animal to be domesticated. But it wasn't in control of her either. Her fever had vanished one morning! Doctors told her that she has fully recovered now and the disease is gone. They informed her that she had been there for 23 days. After discharge, as she was returning home, she knew her disease was gone. Disease of the body! And the disease of the mind!
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My theme for this year's #AtoZchallenge is Lock-down Blues. I intend to write and talk about how I deal with it, what it inspires me to read or watch or any aspect of it which fascinates me. You can read the theme reveal post here.
Previous Challenges : Letter P
4 comments:
After reading your story I am wondering ,who are suffering from all this how they bear their quarantine. Must be very difficult...
Yes ishwinder. We can only imagine.
Poignant and well-written, and I'll never think of pillow talk in the same way again.
Thanks Deborah...
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