Hope
He struggled to open his eyes as if he was ashamed to look at the world. He felt weak, and the faint light coming through the small window hurt his eyes. He was alone in his cell and the eerie stillness was broken only by the ticking of his watch. Loneliness engulfed him and made him wither in helplessness.
"The life one possesses is like china, precious, rich and rare. If broken, it can be mended, but alas…the crack is still there…".
It seemed just yesterday that he had entered college, full of hope and enthusiasm determined to succeed and leave his mark in this ever-changing world. At college, he had found new friends, new life, and a new love…From then on, his life had centered around her, every move she made, filled him with joy and he was sure she felt the same way too. He felt he was floating in a wonderful dream where time and space held no meaning. And then, everything crashed.
He couldn't believe his eyes when he first saw her with someone else. Then the truth dawned upon him and he felt betrayed. Hatred had filled his heart and vengeance had blinded his eyes and then in a fit of rage, he had done it…From then on, his life had turned into a horrible nightmare- the arrest, the court case, and finally the dreaded verdict. In the court, glancing up he had looked at his heartbroken father and weeping mother for the last time as tears flooded his eyes…
He shook himself and slowly the room came into focus. He looked at the damp walls filled with cobwebs and became aware of the stale air. It looked dull and dreary, just as the world outside. He hated the room, the world, his life. The ticking of the watch further irritated him. Each tick pulled him further into despair. It reminded him of the sufferings he had undergone. He flung his food plate angrily at the wall, cursing senselessly,
The past appears a checker'd field,
Of guilt and shame and war,
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Oh! If only had I perished in the womb,
The deed would have been left undone…
"Ahh…what can he do now?", he closed his eyes as drowsiness overcame him, aware only of the silent ticking of his watch. Thoughts began to crowd his mind. "What purpose did the watch have to continue ticking? (or he living?). The answer struck him. Every second had another second to look forward to and every minute had another minute to anticipate-it had the will to live, to fight. Hope sprung inside him. Suddenly he felt his heartburn with the desire to live. "Yes, I want to live..", he thought, with the hope that someday in the future he would be free. The image of the room flashed across his mind. The room did not hate him. It was only like him, bitter and sore with the world that despised it. He had mistaken it as hatred for him. Life, after all, seemed worthy of living.
The rattling of the prison warden's stick on the bars woke him. He glanced up. "Get up and pack your belongings", the warden smirked knowing the prisoner didn't have any." It is time…", the warden spoke grimly. He rose up slowly and glanced at his watch. The battery was dead. The watch had stopped ticking…..
Vidhatha Vivekananda
Programmer. Interested in nature and philosophy.