Guilt or ..........

The atmosphere in the church is chilling, reflecting the cold harsh February evening outside. The Church is in a dilapidated condition, as there are a few visitors in this secluded part of the country. The benches are covered with layers of dust, while the small chandelier hanging above is not imparting adequate light to dissipate the darkness. The stained glass panes are broken, adding to the bleak atmosphere.

The evening service has just begun, and the sound of the choir is echoing in the almost empty Church. Amongst the few people present is Mr Michael, sitting in the extreme corner on the right hand side of the aisle that divides the Church. His face is expressionless as he gazes at the choir while Father Edward lights a candle and places it on the altar in front of the enormous statue of Lord Jesus.

Even though he portrays a stoic face, his mind is running amok with thoughts that disrupt his inner peace while he keeps staring into the vacuum, probing into his conscience.

Suddenly, he gets up in the middle of the choir and makes his way towards his second home, where he has recently moved. It is away from all the hustle and bustle and is the perfect place, not for his retirement, but for his isolation. Upon walking for about half a mile, he reaches the narrow stairs that lead him to a mid-sized door, opening onto the only floor of his three-room flat. The place he likes the most in his flat is the balcony, as it offers a view of a small lake, adjoining the house. He gazes at the swirling waters, relating it to the turmoil of his life. Just when you feel that the flow of life is calm, a strong current of unprecedented complications disrupts your tranquillity.

He enters the balcony and makes himself comfortable in his easy-chair. Picking up the half-burnt cigar lying in the ashtray, he lights it and starts puffing. From the side pocket of his long coat, he takes out a diary and starts reading it from the first chapter. It is for the fourth time in a month that he is reading the diary, ever since he shifted to this bizarre shady looking place.

The diary has an elegant leather cover, with the words ‘Sophie’s Diary’ engraved on it in gold, exhibiting the fact that the owner belonged to the upper echelon of the society. He starts reading it.

Sophie's Diary

Meeting the Uninvited

Saturday, 18^th July 1987.

11 p.m.

Dear Diary,

It’s after two years that I have resorted to writing. I do not know what exactly made me start again, but probably, it is the continuous dearth of ‘people’ in my life that has roused me to do so. A series of strange incidents happened with me yesterday evening and then again today in the morning. These happenings are partly from what I remember and partly from what Soham told me this morning.

I’ll start with the time when I reached a nearby bar, Islo, for having a couple of drinks. Usually, I drink by myself with a couple of books to work upon. However, yesterday, I went to Islo empty-handed, as my mind was preoccupied. It was the mild depression, which I think that I have been suffering from, due to loneliness. Usually, I spend most of the time at the office, and thereafter at Islo, and avoid going home until around ten. Since the past two to three months, I have been using my home primarily for sleeping. Loneliness is a crooked witch; it pulls the best and the worst out of you.

I had been there since six in the evening. My face and body language easily gave away that I was not in the fittest state of mind. Averting my gaze, I started having a glass of red wine.

At first, I was tapping my feet to the light jazz music being played by a band of four people. However, the music didn’t hold my interest for long, and I was lost in introspecting something.

I have been blessed with natural charisma, sharp features and lustrous hair, and have always managed to make heads turn. Being well off, my wardrobe is always brimming with the latest trends and clothes that add to the oomph factor. Over the years, I have grown accustomed to the frequent stares that I am bestowed with.

A smile seldom escaped my lips as and when my eyes caught sight of other people in the bar staring at me one instant and then shying away from me when they realised I had caught them doing so.

“Ma’am, what would you like to have after this?” asked the waiter as he came near my table.

Although he was a familiar face, somehow I can’t recollect his name, which is why I’m addressing him in my diary as ‘the waiter’.

“Well, just repeat this after every half an hour. Today has been a really long day,” I mumbled.

The waiter gazed at my table for a moment, probably looking for a pen or the diary, or a couple of books which I usually have, whenever I go to the bar. But all he could see was my glass of red wine that was about to finish.

As soon as I gulped down the last sip of the red wine, another glass was served. While sipping, I kept on gazing at myself in the mirrored wall right in front of me. The glass got refilled often and I went on drinking continuously for about four hours. This was the longest I had ever sat and got drunk at Islo.

Meanwhile, Soham, my next door neighbour, entered the bar and sat on the bar-stool at the counter. While sipping his beer, he glanced at me; however, I chose to react as if I hadn’t seen him.

Soham is the brother of my best friend, Tanya. I don’t have any dislike for him, rather in a way, I like him. It’s just that I wasn’t in a mood for company at that moment.

“She is turning into a hard drinker and is already about eight glasses down. No pen, no paper, only drinking, just like yesterday,” muttered the waiter as he leaned towards Soham’s left ear. The band stopped long enough for me to overhear the waiter, but I chose to ignore them.

I ordered the waiter to get my next glass of wine, to which, Soham objected by instructing the waiter to stop serving.

I must admit that by then, I had become drunk and had almost lost my sensibility.

“Who are you to say no?!” I snubbed Soham and then ordered the waiter, “Get me one.”

All I can remember from last night is that he felt disheartened and was about to leave after finishing off his beer, when all of a sudden, I got up from my chair.

While looking at the mirror, I exclaimed, “Wait! Please ask her to wait.” As I moved forward blindly, I lost my footing and fell partly unconscious on the floor.

Soham immediately rushed towards me and sprinkled some water on my face, which made me regain consciousness. It took me a moment to regain my composure.

“I’ll drop you home,” he offered as he helped me stand on my feet. I tried to gain some semblance but failed miserably.

“I’ll go by myself. It’s not an issue,” an embarrassed me said as I paid the bill and stumbled out of the bar.

By that time, I was very drunk and cannot recollect as to what exactly happened after that.

As per what Soham told me today morning, after purchasing a pack of cigarettes, he left the bar. While he stood on the pavement smoking a cigarette, he noticed me going towards the end of the road. While taking another puff, he looked at his wrist watch and saw that it was already 11 p.m. The street lights were dimly and unevenly lit, thus causing partial darkness on the road upon which I was walking alone towards my home.

Just as he was pondering about it, he heard a faint scream from the direction in which I had gone. He at once stubbed his cigarette and ran in that direction. He must not have run for more than a hundred metres when he found me lying by the side of the road and noticed two men running away with my purse which they had snatched.

This, I am able to recollect in flashes and is mostly from what Soham had told me in the morning.

Soham intended to chase them but before he could do so, a black ambassador rushed there to escort the thieves and they turned tail. The car was lost in the dark of the night within seconds. Soham carefully helped me get up. Being in a semi-conscious state, my feet didn’t support me. My hand immediately cradled the back of my head as a moan escaped my lips.

Although I don’t recollect anyone hitting me, however, the pain which still persists at the back of my head makes me realise the possibility of a hit.

Soham then quickly checked around my head to ascertain that I wasn’t bleeding. Thereafter, he carried me towards the end of the road, hired a taxi and took me to his home.

After we reached his flat, he took me upstairs. I was still high on liquor and simply followed him, while Tanya, Soham’s sister, helped him to get me to bed.

It was eight in the morning when Tanya woke me up while holding a cup of tea in her hands for me. Meanwhile, Soham, who had just woken up, came to the room. Before anyone could utter a word, I apologised, “I’m really sorry for what happened last night.”

“It’s okay. So, do you remember all that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I remember the incident in bits and pieces, not all of it,” I replied sheepishly.

“It is not okay. What happened is not okay, Soham! She could have been killed if you would have not reached there at the right time! We do not know what those people were after,” voiced an angry Tanya.

“It will never be repeated. I will quit alcohol completely,” I mumbled, lowering my eyes. “But when? I have been hearing this since the past six months now,” she retorted.

Meanwhile, Soham went to his room to get ready for the day. It seems that he also wanted to avoid being present there when his sister and I were having this conversation. His presence would have only embarrassed me further.

“What is troubling you?” asked a concerned Tanya.

“Tanya, I appreciate your concern, but I’m feeling a little dizzy and am really not in a mood to talk about this. We will have a conversation about it, but later,” I told her firmly as I got up from the bed.

“Okay! I’m preparing breakfast. I’ll let you go only after you have had something to eat,” she said and went into the kitchen. In the meantime, I went to the balcony to take fresh air, as I carried my cup of tea. While sipping the tea, I also started to smoke a cigarette which I had lit shortly after stepping into the balcony.

My mind was engaged in a series of deep thoughts that were interrupted when I saw a lady walking on the road across Tanya’s duplex flat. She caught my attention due to many reasons. Her hair was messed up and she was walking bare foot. Moreover, though her gown seemed to be very expensive, it was very poorly worn and torn at a number of places. I could only see her backside as she walked towards the railway track. The next moment, I heard the whistling of a train, followed by puffs of smoke. This somehow caused that lady to walk towards the railway track at a greater speed. It was only then when I realised that the lady intended to commit suicide.

“Hey, wait! What do you think you are doing?” I screamed. “Who is it, Sophie?” called out Tanya from the kitchen.

The scene gripped my senses and I couldn’t respond. Rather, I kept on gazing at the lady with eyes as wide as saucers, willing her to step back.

“Get away from that railway track right now. You’ll die!” I shouted in the loudest possible voice. However, it subdued in the noise of the whistles of the train.