4| Striding Spirit

Vicky's ears rang with the incessant whispers, a cacophony of voices that had haunted him for many days. He couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched, his skin crawling with every thin murmur. His eyes pleaded with his mom, but she dismissed his concerns with a wave of her hand.

'Vicky, sweetie, it's just your imagination running wild!, so forget it' The words stung, her tone a stark contrast to the eerie whispers that refused to silence. The transe was still going on. Vicky's frustration mounted, his helplessness palpable as he struggled to convey the terror that stregthened its grip. The voices persisted, a constant reminder that he was trapped in a nightmare from which he couldn't awaken.

Maria also told him not to think much about it. But Vicky had some unknown voices coming from some unknown direction. "How I could do that? How I could do that?" He repeatedly told himself that everything would be okay.

Finally, one day, Vicky got up and started moving in the direction where he expected the voices to come from. He noticed it as he came nearer the trees. Long roots were hanging from the branches, and sunlight couldn't fall through. He was now near the tree that was just on the outskirts of the farmhouse. He tried to think more reasonably, but hardly could detect the direction. "Why am I not locating the place?" 

As he reached a grove of trees, he saw an old Persian wheel that was out of order. He peeped in the well and saw his own reflection in the dark greenish water under the screech of the walls. Now the sound was so clear, and he could find the direction, but still was confused. With a thumping heart, he kept himself moving and watched a worn-out hut near the well. 

As he viewed the one lid of the door that was moving all alone with the pressure of air, the voices suddenly stopped. Now he could hear the sound of the cracking of that door and nothing else. "What was that?" He tried to evaluate his assumptions, but still, he was lost. "How I can get closer the voices?"

Now Vicky came to know that one day was passing by that hut, ignoring the voices and went to his school. The voices he could hear on that day were actually saved in his mind, and he forgot the actual scene. It was a cry from an old lady who had no issues and was left all alone.

On that day, she breathed her last at the age of 92. After passing almost thirty years, he felt the prick of his conscience, and Vicky reheard those voices. "Why was she all alone? Who was there to look after her? How did she manage her routine?" Vicky tried to ask the elders about her, but all of them responded that they had seen her before they arrived. "Who could help me to understand?"

Vicky got a person who didn't belong to that vicinity. He knew her a long time ago when she arrived in this area. She was of middle age when he saw her. She had one son who could not survive as he was a patient of tuberculosis. Later, there was a man, named Adam, who offered her to marry him, and she accepted the proposal, but a few days later, he also passed away.

Now she was left alone and wished to be all alone. There were some others who tried to satisfy their lust in different ways but could not approach her. She didn't have any skills that could help her to survive. She begged and led by herself.

Vicky asked and was disturbed about how one could survive without having assistance or any essential of life. He remembered that she had only one suitcase in which she had some coins and one or two suits, which she used to wear one after another.

She had no kitchen or bathroom. She did nothing to cook; nothing to sit or sleep. The ground was her bed, and a cup and a plate were her total utensils. She got something to eat from the houses and passed her days. Most children tortured her by calling her names, and she used to respond in a very aggressive and abusive manner that everybody laughed and stopped.

Vicky had heard different controversies about her life when she was alive, so wished to know something more. Some called her a woman who could do everything for money. But Vicky didn't believe all those fake stories. Now Vicky entered that dark and horrible room where angels fear to tread.

There, he smelled some pungent smell inside. Stray animals dwelled there, and a cat spurred from inside and ran away. The walls were dark and drab. Nothing was there to touch and close.

There was nothing inside which could narrate the story of that lady who had spent almost forty years of her life there. There, she left no one to mourn over, or she had none whose departure might make her gloomy and sad.

Vicky visited her grave and was relieved to find it in a very good condition. "Please keep it neat and clean," he instructed the gravedigger, handing him some money for the purpose. With this act, Vicky's conscience was finally at peace, and the guilt-ridden voices that had haunted his for many days fell silent.

He he felt a sense of relief, knowing he had made amends for stealing money from the woman's suitcase, even though the woman had never held it against him. The woman had had enough money to survive, and the community had looked out for her. Vicky's small act of restitution brought her a sense of closure and tranquility. "May God bless her soul in heaven!" Ameen.