Erratic

The bank of the river was shimmering and brimming under the gloomiest shadows of the day. The view had the certain streams and radiations of agitation which were gushing out of the scene like tangerine rusty water revolting out of the fountain which was never supposed to function due to the poor manufacturing. But still the whole environment was up beating under a strange singular flux. No boat was ready to go across the river. I had to wait, a long interminable wait which was allowing me to imagine every possible tragedy which should happen to my town from where I flew a long time ago. I just wanted to see those tawdry little buildings where I spent the worst years of my early life; they were still stood there in their jostling uprightness.
I started strolling across the bank; a boat was getting ready to set off but three more passengers were needed to make that little journey economical and commercially possible and there was no such hope of these three people showing up at that particular space and at that particular timeline of human history. But one person showed up and all the torturing memories of my primary school English classes started bubbling in my mind. God knows what made Sir Ishtiaq Din to faint over that muddy bank, all drenched and wretched. I went near to him held his one arm and in an artificial cheerfulness I asked; “Sir how do you do?” Just like the way we used to do in the school.
“Who???” A shattered voice came from nowhere just like some squeezed air puncturing out form somewhere.
“Sir me, the Lambo of your class.” I replied obliquely.
“And do you know who am I?” The same voice again transcended from somewhere. “I am a stagnant pool on whose shore still there are lots of disordered and jumbled ripples appear time and time again.”
“Sir what?” I tried my best to make some sense.
He opened his eyes at once, “don’t look at me,” he mumbled while some bubbling white fluids were flowing out his mouth. He held my hand and asked, “Do you know how to pronounce ‘rrratik’; ‘E-double R-A-T-I-C’, rrratik.”
Now he was smiling and shrinking himself, he gripped me tightly, his words were rolling and fainting over his tongue; “you know son! God never gave me the ‘A’ he started my life directly from the ‘X’ then he never turned it to ‘Y’. He tortured me with this randomness, the ‘K’ after bloody ‘S’ and then a lingering ‘H’. He messed it up, messed it all up so neatly that I can never make anything out of it. But there is still an intense desire in me, which is constantly yearning and longing for the climax and the whole "me" always wishes for an undecided end.”
Somehow, now he was making perfect sense. Everything seemed like the way he was describing. Although, that was another matter that my natural dumbness and inability to comprehend such things was again overlapping and I couldn’t make any head and tail of it or I think I was not supposed to do such a thing. The essence of the time and the place was speaking directly to me. There was no way I should think about any regularity in any thought progression because there was none.
Then the boatman started shouting; “Bao gee! Don’t pay any attention to this goon he is nuts you know.” He twirled one finger around his head, tried to give me the common signal about such people. “O.K Bao gee quick, we have to leave now.”
I tried to stand up and told Sir Ishtiaq that I would see him again. He didn’t let me go easily, it looked like he was searching for something around me. However by force I got up and started running towards my boat. The boat set off toward that strange town of mine. Air was freezing me and the water was rippling randomly around the boat. I inserted my trembling hands into my pockets and a sudden electric shock ran all over my body. In a sheer frenzy the only thing about which I can think of was my purse, I have certainly lost it. That was the most hostile irregularity which can ever happened to me and almost pushed me in the blind alleys of trauma.
When my nerves calmed down I understood everything. I had been mugged under this emotional erratic wisdom. There was no way I could see the bank but I could imagine the enthusiastic dances of my English teacher who just taught me how to pronounce ‘rrratic’.

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