THE MEMOiR
VAIBHAV REDDY IVN
Copyright 2017 Vaibhav Reddy IVN
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Dedicated to Mom & Dad
Memoir: Someone’s account of an event
Table of Contents
THE BEGINNING OF AN END
THE ONE WITH GLIMPSES OF PAST
THE COUNTRY OF CHAOS
THE MAN WHO LOST IT ALL
THE ONE WITH GLIMPSES OF PAST
THE COUNTRY OF CHAOS
THE MAN WHO LOST IT ALL
THE ONE WITH GLIMPSES OF PAST
THE COUNTRY OF CHAOS
THE MAN WHO LOST IT ALL
THE ONE WITH GLIMPSES OF PAST
THE COUNTRY OF CHAOS
THE MAN WHO LOST IT ALL
THE ONE WITH GLIMPSES OF PAST
THE COUNTRY OF CHAOS
THE MAN WHO LOST IT ALL
TÊTE-À-TÊTE
THE COUNTRY OF CHAOS
THE ONE WITH GLIMPSES OF PAST
THE MAN WHO LOST IT ALL
THE COUNTRY OF CHAOS
THE ONE WITH GLIMPSES OF PAST
THE MAN WHO LOST IT ALL
THE COUNTRY OF CHAOS
THE ONE WITH GLIMPSES OF PAST
THE COUNTRY OF CHAOS
THE MAN WHO LOST IT ALL
THE COUNTRY OF CHAOS
THE MAN WHO LOST IT ALL
THE COUNTRY OF CHAOS
THE ONE WITH GLIMPSES OF PAST
THE MAN WHO LOST IT ALL
THE COUNTRY OF CHAOS
TÊTE-À-TÊTE
THE COUNTRY OF CHAOS
TÊTE-À-TÊTE
THE END OF A BEGINNING
THE MEMOIR OF MY WRITING EXPERIENCE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
THE BEGINNING OF AN END
The hands of the clock sprint restlessly, as if the three of them are competing against one another. While one of them meets the other two every minute, the other two meet each other once an hour. Yet, it is an endless race. For a while, it looks like one hand is chasing the other, before the one it has chased until then in turn chases it. Despite managing to stay away from each other for quite some time, they are destined to meet. That is the irony of destiny.
As the death materializes in front of his eyes, the man tries to cling to the support of the tree. But the physical support is only part of what he needs now. He loses control of himself as fear and agony take hold of him, and he crumples on the grass. He tries to muster the energy to stand up and face the reality, but his weakness insists that he is not ready for this. He slowly closes his eyes.
The woman has her gaze transfixed on the phone screen as the scene of death materializing on the screen plays with her emotions. She takes her eyes off the screen and turns to the slumped body a few feet away from her. She evaluates the various thoughts running through her mind and tries to choose the reasonable one. However, the circumstances are not in her favor. She closes her eyes, wishing for the right choice.
The boy goes numb with fear as the knot secures around the man’s neck. As the knot tightens, the boy feels breathless and tries to scream. Only air escapes out of his mouth and tears escape his eyes. He feels vulnerable, as if he is the only one in the world against all the demons terrorizing it. As fear reinforces his misery, the boy shuts his eyes, expecting the scene to vanish before he opens them again.
Somewhere all through this mess is a lone butterfly fluttering its wings to elude its predator, unaware that its flutter is the source of the tornado that would go on to claim thousands of lives in the coming future.
When every question has an answer, is life the answer for death, or death the answer for life, or death the answer for death in itself?
THE ONE WITH GLIMPSES OF PAST
KRAMINKO GENERAL HOSPITAL- TEN DAYS POST THE JUDGMENT DAY
THE MAN STANDING in front of him was pleading to let him go. The inevitable was already set to happen. The impulse in his head spread through his pyramidal tract and nudged him to execute the conscious command. He pulled the trigger, and the bullet, hungry for some flesh and blood, left his gun, as he reflexively closed his eyes. When he opened his eyes, the man was gone, and so was the room. There was a woman, and he was standing on a hilly ground, with his left leg supporting most of his weight. She had tears in her eyes and she raised the gun.
‘I am sorry Daniel. You brought this upon yourself,’ she said, before pulling the trigger. He jolted backwards and felt the gravity shift as he swiveled backwards. He expected to knock his head on hard rock, but there seemed to be no apparent motion, and he woke up in a room, with his head lying on a soft pillow. He reached out towards his abdomen for blood. He found a bandage neatly plastered to the spot. He raised his head and looked around him. The setup around him resembled a hospital room. He tried to think about what brought him here. His head ached from the effort, and he was only able to recollect that a woman had shot him. For a moment, he doubted the authenticity of the memory. The bandage insisted the authenticity, against the possibility of a dream that might have come into play because of his imagination.
He tried to recollect what chain of events had led towards the firing. He had no recollection. He tried hard to recollect any event preceding the firing. But the harder he tried, the more his head ached and he felt weak. He rested his head on the pillow and let his heated brain cool down. The only things he was able to recall were the two incidents that woke him up. He shifted his attention to another vision he had before waking up. It had him shooting a man of about sixty. Since he believed that the vision that followed it was true, he believed it to be a memory too.
Again, he made a fruitless effort to make sense of the vision and his state. However, he had no clue as to what led to that event or what followed. The sudden feeling of a vacuum in his memory had him gasping for breath, and he took a couple of deep breaths to soothe his racing heart. Suddenly, he felt like an empty bin. He tried to recollect any memory from his brain’s archives, but the attempt turned out to be fruitless. The sense of distress and anxiety returned like a boomerang making its way back to the initial point. He grabbed the blankets of the bed tightly as he tried to recollect something, if any. He was unable to recollect even his name. Tears of fury rolled down the sides of his cheeks, and he wondered what was happening to him, only to face the emptiness.
His surroundings increased his sense of discomfort and he felt a source-less urge to flee the place. He pulled himself free of the IV tubes, the indwelling catheter and other medical stuff clinging to him, and rose from his bed. As he landed on the floor, the blood suddenly pooled in the peripheral veins of his legs and the dizziness forced him to grab the bed tightly. It made him stop for a few seconds, before putting his entire weight on his feet. His feet felt funny, a distressing funny. As the dizziness slowly waned-off, he took slow steps towards the door of the long hall divided into many cubicles and exited the ICU. The hospital staff was busy assisting the transfer of some injured people to the emergency wards. He ducked sideways into a small cloakroom to make way for the stretchers and to stay out of sight of the hospital’s personnel. A sourceless instinct in his mind told him that escaping the hospital was the best thing to do. As the vein that earlier accommodated the catheter began bleeding, he held his forearm tightly.
He tallied his options for the moment. He could either escape the place or ask a nurse who he was or how he ended-up there. But, something in his mind voted for the former. Having made up
his dizzy mind, he leaped into the corridor once the security guard moved away from him to assist a convoy of emergency cases. He stormed out of the cloakroom and walked quickly to find the stairway. He was able to find it beside the elevator. However, he stopped himself when he looked at his reflection in the steel doors of the elevator, which showed a man in his late twenties with shabby hair, pale skin, square face, a pointed nose, dry lips and sharp chocolate brown eyes. He saw a complete stranger. He had to run his hand over his face to make sure he was not seeing someone else. He became aware of the suspicious looks the staff threw his way, and voted for a change of apparel. He looked around him and found a man going to the floor cafeteria, leaving behind his blazer and backpack in the waiting chairs.
He walked slowly towards the chairs, snatched his belongings off the chairs and made it back to the stairwell. Once he was safely in the stairwell, he looked up and down the stairs to ensure the absence of anyone in his proximity. Having ensured that, he took off the gown and put on the red t-shirt and the blue jeans he found in the backpack. They fit him tightly. He put on the blazer and patted its pockets for anything. He fished out a set of car keys, three hundred bucks notes, a wallet, goggles and a protein bar. He pocketed everything except the bar, which he feasted upon as he descended the stairs. When he reached the ground floor, he had to close his eyes as the evening rays of the sun streamed into the reception area through the glass doors of the hospital’s entrance.
He reached out into his pocket and wore the goggles. He looked awkward with a mismatched combination of proper apparel and bare feet. The reception area looked busy with the army personnel assisting the hospital staff to admit the injured people from the three or four ambulances outside the hospital. He struggled to get out of the busy doorway, and made his way out of the hospital. As he struggled to make his way away from the busy area, he dashed into a TV reporter, who was busy pouring in the information about the current scenario at the hospital.
‘I am sorry,’ he said and paced away quickly before she could respond. He walked along the tiled path in front of the doorway and turned left to find himself in the open parking lot of the hospital.
He pulled out the keys from his blazer’s pocket and examined the keys’ set. It had a Toyota’s key among the others.
I am able to say that this belongs to a Toyota, but could not remember my bloody name! How ironic of me?
He checked the parking lot for Toyota cars and found a few. He clicked the unlock button on the key and a battered Corolla Altis responded. He walked up to the car and hopped in. The car had the same odor as the blazer and the other belongings. He felt a sub-conscious contentment for not encountering cigarette odor in there. When he surveyed the interior of the car, his gaze fixed on a water bottle, which he emptied despite the warmth of it. He found a pair of flip-flops in the car, which he happily wore. He put the key into ignition and fired up the engine. As he reached out for the gear, he thought for any destination. He had no idea what his name was, let alone his home. However, he first wished for his driving skills to remain unaltered by his condition, assuming he knew how to drive a car. He first wanted to get out of the place.
He put the car in gear and pressed the accelerator. But, the weakness made it quite an effort for him. The confidence he felt while igniting the engine seemed to have evaded him and he grew impatient of his helplessness. He gave it a second effort and slowly, but unsteadily, exited the parking lot with the car in the first gear. The traffic on the road was moderate, yet he felt the confidence drain him. He realized that he could not drive along in the first gear for long, and looked around for someone to assist him in the task. There were a few pedestrians on the road. His eyes fell on a well-dressed beggar beside the road, who could be mistaken for any ordinary gentleman if not for his begging. Considering him his messiah for the moment, he exited the car and walked towards him.
Minutes later, seated in the backseat of the stolen Corolla with his new accomplice aiding him, his racing heart eased as he moved further away from the hospital. He withdrew the wallet for the twenty bucks he had promised Bryce, the beggar, and found them along with a driving license and some cards. After going on for a few blocks, Bryce had to stop the car behind a queue of other cars before him. Bryce seemed to be a calm man, who did not indulge in the amnesiac’s reasons for the request and stayed silent.
He used the moment to go through the contents of the stolen wallet. The name of his unaware-aide was Daniel Ryu Xavier. The name struck a chord somewhere in his mind, as if the name was a key to unlock some portion of his memory. He tried to pull that string to learn something about his past. As he strained for it, he felt weak, but reminiscence greeted him.
I am sorry Daniel. You brought this upon yourself!
I am sorry Daniel. You brought this upon yourself!
The words echoed in his mind repeatedly as if on a loop.
Yes! Yes! I am Daniel…Daniel…
THE MEMOiR
‘Now, roll no. 175, Master Daniel Vab Shelby. Come onto the stage and collect your ID card.’
I walked up to the stage and ascended the stairs towards the man. The elderly man in the blue suit handed me my ID card and shook my hand. We posed for a quick photo and the man let me go and wished me, ‘Best of luck for your medical career.’
BACK FROM THE PAST
The vision emerged out of the blue.
I am Daniel Shelby.
He felt a sudden surge of happiness as he recollected his name and a tiny memory. A sudden noise of firing interrupted his euphoria. He jumped in his seat and bumped the top of his head against the ceiling of the car. Pain spread through his head, especially from a specific spot on the lateral part of his head. He reached out to the spot with his trembling fingers and encountered an inch long scar a few centimeters behind his hairline, which he had not noticed until then.
He shifted his attention from the scar to a staring Bryce and the traffic in front of him, as vibrations erupting from an ongoing convoy followed the shots. Daniel smiled at Bryce, who turned back to playing his game of quiet. The convoy had a group of half dozen military trucks one behind the other, packed compactly with soldiers carrying heavy firearms.
‘Attention the people of Kraminko!’ a voice blared, from one of the trucks. ‘The protest that happened at the City Centre was an unfortunate act. General Markus Byn Levisohn regrets the act and offers his condolences. But remember this, the army does not tolerate and appreciate such pointless protests. You must now be aware from this afternoon’s response by the army that you shouldn’t mess with the army, and you must comply with the military. We have taken control of this country for your own good. So, co-operate with us for the peace of this country and the society.’
Nothing made sense. It was all Greek and Latin for him. He turned sideways and asked the person in the adjacent car, ‘Hey buddy, what’s going on?’
The man eyed him suspiciously for a moment and answered, ‘It’s the military convoy. They rule the place, so we have got to bear with them.’
Daniel nodded understandingly, despite having no idea of the scenario. ‘What country is this, by the way?’ he asked, regretting asking the question.
This time, the look was self-explanatory. ‘How high are you, bud? You had better watch out on your way. Try not to land in their lap.’
As the trucks disappeared, the cars in front of the line ignited their engines. He gave a final look at the license in his hand before replacing it back in the wallet. The top of the license read- FREMIA ROAD TRANSPORTATION ORGANIZATION.
Fremia?
An idea formulated in his mind about the destination. He noted down the address from the RC on a scrap paper from the wallet, and handed it to Bryce as the destination.
THE COUNTRY OF CHAOS
SOMEWHERE IN THE MERCUPO ISLANDS- FOUR DAYS POST THE JUDGMENT DAY
DAVID AKY LINDEN paced about the room with excitement. He was waiting for this moment since his big achievement. He monitored the arrangements hi
s men made for the broadcast. Soon, he was going on air to confirm what were just public speculations until then.
His second-in-command 1 walked up to him from the camera setup on the tripod and bowed in front of him before speaking. ‘Sir, the arrangements are done. We are ready to go on air.’
David nodded his head and patted his shoulder. He took his place in the chair six feet in front of the camera and gestured to his second-in-command 1 to get him his rifle. Second-in-command 1 looked around and found the AK-47 leaning against the wall behind him. He picked it up and handed it to David.
His second-in-command 2 once again checked the setup in the screen of the camera and confirmed that everything was ready. He gave David a thumbs-up and said, ‘Start.’
David grinned at the screen for a few seconds before beginning. ‘The bullet that leaves the rifle knows not the difference between flesh of man or woman, good or evil, dead or alive. It just does its duty. So do us, The Invincible Army!’ he yelled, which was the motto his army respected and followed.
‘I know that you, the people of Fremia, have had your doubts regarding the hand holding the dagger that slit the throat of your Prime Minister, Donald Jol Miller. So, here I am. I have decided to put a stop to your speculations. I know that your so-called political leaders have been feeding you what all shit they like. We realize that we are the ones blamed for the death of that swine Donald. Well, at least, your leaders have spoken the truth for once in their bloody rotten lives.
‘Yes, we The Invincible Soldiers are responsible for the assassination of Donald Miller. And I am more than happy to announce it myself. Our ultimate soldier, Sazyfan, put the bullet in that idiot, who considered himself invincible.
The Memoir Page 1