Prakash suddenly felt the terror shoot up his guts. What did he mean by this choice thing?
He was in the fog, he could see that. He was lost now. Why did those villagers see right through him? Was he invisible to them? And then the dreaded thought sprang up. Was he dead? No, he can't be dead. He was still feeling cold. He could still see this old strange man standing next to him, inclined against the tree trunk, his body wrapped up in old overcoat, his face hidden in the darkness. He looked all around and all that he could see was the impenetrable sheet of fog, hanging menacingly, not doing anything, just hanging, waiting for him to make his first move. He had done so but he had been thwarted.
The old man was lost in his thoughts. Who was he? And why was he out in this blasted evening?
"Tell me, what is going on?" Prakash tried very hard but was unable to control his trembling voice.
The old man looked at him now and then very slowly repeated :
" You are in the fog. You have to decide on what you want to do."
" I would like to go back to home."
The old man started laughing now. His laughter was cold and sounded hollow and distant. And then he had a fit of cough and so after some time when he could catch his breath, he turned around and put his hands on Prakash's shoulders.
"Home? There is no home for people like us. We are cursed lot. Bound to walk up and down on the face of this earth. Only thing we have for company is this fog, this huge stupid blanket of fog which is all around you. We are fellow travelers. We can see each other, talk to each other but we can't penetrate this fog. We can't go back to our lives."
This made no sense at all to Prakash. He was now alarmed that the old man was not only senile, but was downright crazy. He looked closely at him. The old man's eyes were red and the moment he realized that Prakash was observing him, he deliberately turned his back towards Prakash.
Prakash's head was buzzing now. What did this fool just blabber? That they were fellow travelers? That they could not go across?
But he had tried all that he could. He had walked for so long. He had even found help, he thought, but for some reason, those villagers did not see him.
Suddenly the silence was broken by the rasping voice of the old man.
"Where are you? Can you tell me where are you?"
"I am not sure. I must be still in the society complex."
"hmmm, no you are not in the society complex. What would those villagers be doing in your modern society?"
Prakash was dumbfounded for some time. Not in the society complex. Did he really walk out of the complex, somehow crossing the open stretches of land to reach the village? How could he? Maybe there were no boundary walls. He must have taken a wrong turn, kept walking.
"Is this the shabad village?"
"no, you are not in the shabad village either."
Now the old man turned towards him. His voice was tired now.
"Which year is this?"
"2013"
"no sir, the year is not 2013. Before you think I am some maniac, let me clarify that statement."
Prakash noted that the old man was now speaking very softly, a little bent over like he was addressing a class room.
"You, sir, were caught in the great fog. This fog carries people across time, across place. Is this some kind of anomaly in space time continuum? I don't know. I entered this fog in the year 1998 and since then I have been carried to different eras, to different places. You must be thinking I am crazy. At first I thought so too. I was unable to get out of this fog, this white sheet. I was unable to reach out to many people but I saw so many walking in this fog, trapped by it, in it. Most of these unfortunate souls would give up very quickly, they would wither away and die. They can't bear it at all. Trapped in this fog, they would keep walking till they would get very very tired and then they would die. I have met at least 10 people till this time. You are the 11th. Slowly it started making sense to me. I could figure out that I was stuck with it. If I met some one like you, I would try to explain this to them. 99% of the time they would laugh at me, call me maniac and they would run away like they were scared of me when they should be scared of this fog all around us."
At this point, the old man paused for some seconds. Prakash was now certain that this old man was a maniac and that he must find a way to get rid of him.
"You might be thinking of running away from me" The old man rasped again.
"There was a young girl before you, some 25 years old. She was trapped in the fog in the year 2012 from Faisalabad, Pakistan. Her name was Aiyasha. I had tried so very hard to convince her but she had run away. I never saw her again."
Prakash was now getting impatient. "Maybe what you are saying is correct. Maybe you are wrong. How do we verify your statements? If someone walks up to me and starts rambling on some stupid fog which actually makes you time travel, I would imagine you to be a maniac too."
"Good point. I have a copy of paper with me." He put his hand in his pocket and took out a newspaper.
Prakash was unable to read it. There was not enough light around him. He had to really bring it very close to his eyes when he saw the date. 22 December 1998.But this was not conclusive proof.
"OK. You are carrying a very old paper. But you could have got it from anywhere."
The old man put the newspaper in his pocket and started moving around.
"you want some more proof. ok. Tell me why didn't those villagers respond to you?"
"I have no idea. I have been thinking about it too. Why didn't they?"
"Because all they could see was the fog. All they could hear was the rustling of the wind."
This was getting absurd and boring. Prakash looked around him and then suddenly the fog lifted for a split second. He saw a light flickering when it was again hidden by the fog.
The old man seized his hand.
"Don't. This is the game that it plays with you. It will keep leading you to these places. You would always feel hopeful. But they can't see you. And then you start losing hope. Once you are hopeless, your will to live dies too. And then the fog owns you."
"Leave me alone" Prakash shouted. He was now angry. " Get away from me. You and your stupid fog"
And Prakash started running towards that light. The fog would keep on lifting when the light would get stronger but then the fog would again hide it. Prakash ran at a steady pace. The only sound that he could hear was his footsteps, crushing everything that came in his way when his toe ran right against a jutted stone and he was sent sprawling head first on the dusty path. The impact left him stunned and he lay there motionless while the whole world kept getting whiter, the fog kept entering his lungs. Dread. It was the dread which made him sit again. His toe must have been fractured because it was paining a lot. He got up again and looked around. No sign of the old man. And there was the light again. He was very close to the cottage now. He moved slowly now, cautiously. The experience with the villagers was very strange. And he was extra careful now. Maybe he did not speak properly. Maybe he thought he was speaking but no sound came out his throat. But why would they not see him?
He saw a dog sniffing some garbage and when he came closer, the dog's ears were raised. It looked at him and started wailing. Prakash was certain that the dog could see him and he was mightily pleased. If the dog can see him and respond to his presence, then it was ok. The old man was crazy. He saw a clutch of huts all of them closed now. It must have been late in the night now. People would be sleeping inside now. It was too cold. This must be the "shabad" village. How did he reach here? Don't worry, he will find answers later. He needed to find his way out first. He needed to reach home now. He should have taken his cell phone. He could have called his friends. May be they could have helped.
He reached the very first hut and saw the wooden door locked from inside. The occupants must be sleeping.
-----
wait for part 3 now :-) :-)
He was in the fog, he could see that. He was lost now. Why did those villagers see right through him? Was he invisible to them? And then the dreaded thought sprang up. Was he dead? No, he can't be dead. He was still feeling cold. He could still see this old strange man standing next to him, inclined against the tree trunk, his body wrapped up in old overcoat, his face hidden in the darkness. He looked all around and all that he could see was the impenetrable sheet of fog, hanging menacingly, not doing anything, just hanging, waiting for him to make his first move. He had done so but he had been thwarted.
The old man was lost in his thoughts. Who was he? And why was he out in this blasted evening?
"Tell me, what is going on?" Prakash tried very hard but was unable to control his trembling voice.
The old man looked at him now and then very slowly repeated :
" You are in the fog. You have to decide on what you want to do."
" I would like to go back to home."
The old man started laughing now. His laughter was cold and sounded hollow and distant. And then he had a fit of cough and so after some time when he could catch his breath, he turned around and put his hands on Prakash's shoulders.
"Home? There is no home for people like us. We are cursed lot. Bound to walk up and down on the face of this earth. Only thing we have for company is this fog, this huge stupid blanket of fog which is all around you. We are fellow travelers. We can see each other, talk to each other but we can't penetrate this fog. We can't go back to our lives."
This made no sense at all to Prakash. He was now alarmed that the old man was not only senile, but was downright crazy. He looked closely at him. The old man's eyes were red and the moment he realized that Prakash was observing him, he deliberately turned his back towards Prakash.
Prakash's head was buzzing now. What did this fool just blabber? That they were fellow travelers? That they could not go across?
But he had tried all that he could. He had walked for so long. He had even found help, he thought, but for some reason, those villagers did not see him.
Suddenly the silence was broken by the rasping voice of the old man.
"Where are you? Can you tell me where are you?"
"I am not sure. I must be still in the society complex."
"hmmm, no you are not in the society complex. What would those villagers be doing in your modern society?"
Prakash was dumbfounded for some time. Not in the society complex. Did he really walk out of the complex, somehow crossing the open stretches of land to reach the village? How could he? Maybe there were no boundary walls. He must have taken a wrong turn, kept walking.
"Is this the shabad village?"
"no, you are not in the shabad village either."
Now the old man turned towards him. His voice was tired now.
"Which year is this?"
"2013"
"no sir, the year is not 2013. Before you think I am some maniac, let me clarify that statement."
Prakash noted that the old man was now speaking very softly, a little bent over like he was addressing a class room.
"You, sir, were caught in the great fog. This fog carries people across time, across place. Is this some kind of anomaly in space time continuum? I don't know. I entered this fog in the year 1998 and since then I have been carried to different eras, to different places. You must be thinking I am crazy. At first I thought so too. I was unable to get out of this fog, this white sheet. I was unable to reach out to many people but I saw so many walking in this fog, trapped by it, in it. Most of these unfortunate souls would give up very quickly, they would wither away and die. They can't bear it at all. Trapped in this fog, they would keep walking till they would get very very tired and then they would die. I have met at least 10 people till this time. You are the 11th. Slowly it started making sense to me. I could figure out that I was stuck with it. If I met some one like you, I would try to explain this to them. 99% of the time they would laugh at me, call me maniac and they would run away like they were scared of me when they should be scared of this fog all around us."
At this point, the old man paused for some seconds. Prakash was now certain that this old man was a maniac and that he must find a way to get rid of him.
"You might be thinking of running away from me" The old man rasped again.
"There was a young girl before you, some 25 years old. She was trapped in the fog in the year 2012 from Faisalabad, Pakistan. Her name was Aiyasha. I had tried so very hard to convince her but she had run away. I never saw her again."
Prakash was now getting impatient. "Maybe what you are saying is correct. Maybe you are wrong. How do we verify your statements? If someone walks up to me and starts rambling on some stupid fog which actually makes you time travel, I would imagine you to be a maniac too."
"Good point. I have a copy of paper with me." He put his hand in his pocket and took out a newspaper.
Prakash was unable to read it. There was not enough light around him. He had to really bring it very close to his eyes when he saw the date. 22 December 1998.But this was not conclusive proof.
"OK. You are carrying a very old paper. But you could have got it from anywhere."
The old man put the newspaper in his pocket and started moving around.
"you want some more proof. ok. Tell me why didn't those villagers respond to you?"
"I have no idea. I have been thinking about it too. Why didn't they?"
"Because all they could see was the fog. All they could hear was the rustling of the wind."
This was getting absurd and boring. Prakash looked around him and then suddenly the fog lifted for a split second. He saw a light flickering when it was again hidden by the fog.
The old man seized his hand.
"Don't. This is the game that it plays with you. It will keep leading you to these places. You would always feel hopeful. But they can't see you. And then you start losing hope. Once you are hopeless, your will to live dies too. And then the fog owns you."
"Leave me alone" Prakash shouted. He was now angry. " Get away from me. You and your stupid fog"
And Prakash started running towards that light. The fog would keep on lifting when the light would get stronger but then the fog would again hide it. Prakash ran at a steady pace. The only sound that he could hear was his footsteps, crushing everything that came in his way when his toe ran right against a jutted stone and he was sent sprawling head first on the dusty path. The impact left him stunned and he lay there motionless while the whole world kept getting whiter, the fog kept entering his lungs. Dread. It was the dread which made him sit again. His toe must have been fractured because it was paining a lot. He got up again and looked around. No sign of the old man. And there was the light again. He was very close to the cottage now. He moved slowly now, cautiously. The experience with the villagers was very strange. And he was extra careful now. Maybe he did not speak properly. Maybe he thought he was speaking but no sound came out his throat. But why would they not see him?
He saw a dog sniffing some garbage and when he came closer, the dog's ears were raised. It looked at him and started wailing. Prakash was certain that the dog could see him and he was mightily pleased. If the dog can see him and respond to his presence, then it was ok. The old man was crazy. He saw a clutch of huts all of them closed now. It must have been late in the night now. People would be sleeping inside now. It was too cold. This must be the "shabad" village. How did he reach here? Don't worry, he will find answers later. He needed to find his way out first. He needed to reach home now. He should have taken his cell phone. He could have called his friends. May be they could have helped.
He reached the very first hut and saw the wooden door locked from inside. The occupants must be sleeping.
-----
wait for part 3 now :-) :-)
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