Untitled- a short story

He entered the room with a smirk on his face. What brought out that smirk was his anticipation of the result of what was going to happen next. The room was already full. He wasn’t late though. He actually came in early but waited in a corner in the lobby outside the room hiding himself until he was sure that most of the guests had arrived. For him, it was easier to sneak into a filled room as compared to a place where there was still an expectation of guests coming in. He knew he wasn’t one of the most highly awaited persons on the guest list. 

Like most of the plans in his life, this one also didn’t come together quite the way he had imagined. One person noticed him entering the room, and then another, and another. And before he knew, his presence became the topic of whispers all across the room. With each passing moment, the magnitude of the murmurs amplified making them both more obvious and audible to him. 

He belonged to from where they belonged, yet he was different. Maybe because he chose to be that way. Or maybe because they thought he was. ‘Why does he need to be here every time?’ crooned one person in the ear of a senior member sitting next to him. ‘I don’t know’ the senior member answered without even looking at the questioner. ‘He probably wants to be like us’ he continued while pryingly keeping the young man in the crosshairs of his cataractic eyes. ‘I mean, look at him! He’s trying so hard to be like us. Trying to feel so comfortable among us.’ The questioner also now had his complete focus on the enigmatic young man trying to get to the depth of a story that was both cryptic and untitled. 

He could sense people leering at him and giving him quick sidelong glances. They would pass a smile when an unsolicited eye contact was made. A smile that had disdain inscribed all over it from one corner of the lips to the other. ‘He’s a wannabe’ said someone in a group of four standing at a corner observing each move he made. ‘I think he deserves a chance though’ the same person continued trying the best he could to not sound biased or disapproving. ‘Are you serious?’ asked another person from the same group. ‘You want to go talk to him?’ he sneered as he asked. ‘Oh no, I don’t! I was just…’ and a remorseful chuckle sneaked into a convoy of laughter. 

By this time, the enigmatic young man had gathered that his fears have come true and the little optimism that chauffeurs him to the room every time had quite silently bidden him farewell yet again. He could no longer feel a sense of belonging. The spotlight, it seemed was on him and he wasn’t too thrilled about it. The spotlight for him, in fact, meant the exit every time. It was like midnight for Cinderella, except that there was no prince in the story. He waited for other discussions to come to his rescue as he almost camouflaged himself with anything he could possibly think of to get their minds off him. And as soon as he sensed people finally ignoring him naturally as opposed to pretentiously, he slipped out of the room. 

With a sigh of relief, he stood in the lobby contemplating the image of the man he could see in an outsized mirror in front of him on the wall. Optimism smiled at him through the image as if it was challenging him again. He smiled back at it, turned back and entered the room with the same smirk. Only this time, it was the room on the opposite side. 

–Hammad A. Mateen

The Railway Platform- a short story

He met someone strange one night at a railway station. A woman sitting on a bench. Her posture & style made her seem very confident- almost cocky. He hurried towards her. He had gotten off the train at that station only to look for someone but he didn’t know who it was. What made it easy for him was that there was absolutely nobody at the station except for her at that time. As soon as he stepped outside the train, it went very quiet. He looked back at the train to find out that the whole train had suddenly gotten completely empty. Even the lights inside had gone off. He didn’t have time to think or worry about it though. 

He went straight to the woman sitting in front of him. It seemed that the woman could hear him talk but chose (intentionally) not to respond. He kept trying to get a response out of her by saying out things loud and gesturing towards her animatedly but nothing seemed to have been working. The woman kept looking at him straight in the eyes but did not utter a word. She had cold eyes- very cold. Like a forest that hadn’t had rain in eons but had still survived and was therefore arrogantly languid about it. He wanted something said from her desperately as he did not have time. His train was about to leave the station and he couldn’t stay back. He wanted her to listen to him and acknowledge so that he could hand her over something very important. It was a small box that had handwritten notes in it: memoirs and instructions. He wanted her to take those, read them, remember something and change herself afterwards. She didn’t seem to care.

Image source: Google Images

The train started to move. He began pleading to her now. All she had for him was a conceited simper. She shook her head a couple of times almost pitying him for what he was. He had, by that time, gone down to his knees in front of her bench. She leaned forward and put her hands on his shoulders while moving her face towards his. Frightened, he tried to pull himself back but her grip on his shoulders was unexpectedly strong. She felt his puny effort to retreat and shook her head once again signalling him to stop doing it. She kept staring into his eyes frigidly as she moved herself closer. He felt his life being sucked out of him through his eyes. She went past his cheek and stopped alongside his ear. He could feel her breath on his earlobe. It was as icy-cold. His eyes had gone wide like he had accepted his loss and was merely waiting for the result to be announced. Everything around him had muted as if the whole universe had come to a standstill in anticipation of what she was about to say. “I’m not going to change”, she whispered. “You know why? Because what you see is already a change. You don’t like it but it doesn’t matter anymore- it’s too late. You can keep the box with you and cherish what’s inside yourself”, she said. 

The train had started gaining a little pace now. He pulled his head back and started staring at her worryingly in what seemed to be a complete shock & revelation for him. He saw somebody else in her this time. She gave him an acknowledging smirk and said, “Yes! I’m the new you. You don’t need to worry about the train anymore because you’re not going anywhere. What starts from here is my time & my journey.”

She put her weight on her hands placed on his shoulders and stood up to begin her brisk yet imperious walk towards the train. The past watched the present leave for the future as the train left the station and disappeared into darkness.

A few minutes later, the station master stepped out of his office yawning to make arrangements for the arriving train.

“Somebody call an ambulance!”, he shouted.

-Hammad A. Mateen