THE FAREWELL FROM MY NIGHTMARES

 I walk down the boulevard of broken dreams, because there is nowhere else to go. I shift my gaze to the right, and in front of me are my friends and I, getting ready for what seems like our farewell party. Our conversation is filled with nervous laughter; because none of us wants to address the elephant in the room; that this is goodbye. With a bitter smile, I jerk my head the other way. No longer do I want to think of those distant memories. Immediately, I am being held by a view of anxious students, furiously chiseling away at their thin sheet of paper. There I am, among a sea of ardent teenagers, attacking the questions at my own pace. Before I could spot anyone else, the scenery blew away like sand. With no choice left, I resume my walk forward. The blocks on the footpath begin to fall away in chunks, and I find myself stranded. After looking around, I discover a group of girls, sporting white uniforms and cameras, getting off a bus. With music blasting on each of their speakers, they are all yelling in unison, “BTSC! BTSC! BTSC!” With their heads held high, and their faces even more, all of them disperse into their own groups. The sign behind them reads, “Kartharpur” Experience has taught me that this, too, shall fade away; and fade away if did, leaving me standing in front of a broken banner saying, “Farewell, 11-O!” Beside me are signs, all proclaiming various things, including: ‘Beware! Practise social distancing!’ ‘No-one outside past 5 pm.’ ‘Sale! Hand sanitizer 40% off’ Now, I stroll on the streets of irony. Something that seemed so within my grasp, had slipped through my fingers like sand. My thoughts are disturbed by a structure resembling a bench forming in front of me. Sitting down, I watch the world as it goes up in flames. A look of indifference sweeps over me as I fix my eyes at the disaster. I sit there, waiting for the fire to consume me, too. 

Fatima Babri XI O