LIKA - PART III
By Lasheen Yusuf
Read Part I & II HERE
(Continued…)
But I was sitting there. At the edge of her bed and of the unknown. I have never been in a situation like
this and the excitement has rooted me to the wooden floor by her bedside. Somehow, interviewing people
with live ammunition flying around didn’t seem as scary and exciting as this situation I find myself in. I
wanted to talk but I couldn’t clear my throat. I do a silent reverse-clear and whisper.
“You crying. Why?”
“I don’t know” She smiled wearily.
“Ok”
After what seemed like 10 minutes of
silence, she says “I like you. You are
kind.”
“Thank you”
“You are writer, yes?”
“Yes” I whisper back.
“What you write?”
“About people, places, events…”
“You like it?”
“Very much.”
“I want to write also”
“Now?” I ask
“No. Since I am young girl.”
“Why don’t you write?”
“About what? Here everybody see everything. Why they read about it?”
“They don’t see YOU. What you feel.”
Since in-depth conversation is out of the question, I have to resort to assumptions and interpretation. And
then test its truth with my next comment. Yet, without stating the obvious. We have to jump steps here.
Hence, my assumptions here are that not many people are kind to her. Kindness doesn’t have to be a just
lack of rudeness. Year of apathy and neglect can be cruel too. Am I being that with Anita? Am I being the
very thing I am trying not to be with her? The greatest injustice that can be meted out to anyone is invisibility; not acknowledging his/her existence.
To be a part of our next issue upload your entries on www.tamarindrice.in or email us
at [email protected]