From the old factory roof, I see dusk falling over our small town. The faraway mountains stand still in haze, so firm and still. The season is shifting. The air feels chilly. It is October. Every day someone dies in our city. The days and nights all feel so delicate and desperate. Fear has turned to sacred longing now, a ritual for hope.
I am sitting alone in the abandoned factory roof. During the old times, when life was as it was supposed to be and people were fearless of death we used to meet here with friends and talk of life in the way it was. Now alone watching the dying sun over the blue mountains I feel possessed. I can hear whispers of immortality. Death among us, lost it’s meaning, the innate fear and prejudices. Some die, some stay alive, all meaningless it seems. Maybe Death is now as it always was, never changed.
From the height the last sun touches my face, smooth and dreamy, I feel incarnated. A distant music slowly fades out. Another life, another time. Time like today, death made easy and all prejudices broken.
The ship sweeps in slowly at the port of Piraeus. After a long voyage they brings with them stories of distant countries and places filled with adventure. Wanderer sea-fearing men gets down, businessmen exhibit their goods. Interested individuals come in, they examine the new merchandises. The air is occupied, the rich smell of bread and murmurs all around, likes death has never touched here. The world is so busy at the port, there is no time to spare. Ship boarders gets into the city with hope and desire. Over a corner the young captain, worried, like out of a dream, he saw something up from the heaven, a sign of evil. He walks along the busy roads aimlessly. The captain looks far over the blue, his eyes as that of a lover, what does he think?
I get down the ladder, take my old rusted bi-cycle and leave for home. There is no one left at home, just a place to sleep a place to dream and stay. I step alone, alone in the bed, in the open verandah and get along with the ghostly nights. After they all died, something started happening to me. Some nights I have unusual dreams. Dreams about big sea-ports, black deaths and some night of love. I have visuals of diverse nature. I could never know how much I can make out of all these nothingness, they have been there all the time, I never knew. And if the dreams wake me, some night I see an old owl, at the window, how unusual. It stands quiet, stares at my eyes. I cover myself with the blanket in my cold bed. Windows open. I rest in deep slumber.
At morning the relief came. The same group that came last time, I see the same girl. We talk, they look worried. People come for help, for food, to live and not die. They feel tired, eyes shining. I look at them, are they feeling the same as all of us, I can never know. We can be no one else but ourselves.
I see Dipto coming. Dipto is my friend. He is working at the local hospital. He does not talk much, looks in the eyes, coldly he turns to me,“Mihir is dead.” For a moment I feel numb, nothing matters anymore? or does it?. Mihir was buried on top of a hill, alone under the sky in a soft October breeze. Mihir died the day he was born, October 13th.
The mountains are changing color. When I was young and everything was so new, we used race up the small hills, Mihir, Dipto,Nishat and I. And at the peak we used to shout at the top of our voice, nothing meaningful. I liked those days, now they seems like the golden ones.
I walk along the dark-pitched roads, the clouds are a little dark. I walk alone, past the hills and past lane 9. Besides the old temple side. Behind the curved stone benches. I can feel the warm blood of love, my first kiss, trembling between right and wrong, holding between desires.
People pass me by. Meaningless, nothing means anything anymore. I keep watching.
The feelings come back, of the old harbor. Of secret love amidst busy life. It feels like living a dream. A state of trance. I see the blue eyes of a lover, a young captain and the dark eyes of Mytris. They utter promises that goes far beyond this life. The captain looks far, he has secrets to keep. Mytris holds him in her arms. She wants to know about her young sailor, a lover and a secret keeper. Young Captain, talks less, he smiles.
I can feel living the life of other people. Living like they do, loving like they do, feeling like they do and it all started in my homeless home at a time I do not want to recall.
Death stretches its dark hand among the busy life. In the port city People are dying. People afraid, coughing blood, body rots, all in the course of a night turns to a bloody nightmare. People afraid of death, of the unknown. Time pass by. I can see a lover die, in the hands of the other. Myrtis died on the arms of her lover. She felt safe and happy, she smiled before she died.
The Captain on his ship sails from the town. He sails alone along the setting sun. No ones left to ride. He sails alone, with the deads left behind. The same ship that brought death. Nothing matters.
I feel the change, nothing can go on forever. Bad things must stop. I can feel the change in air. I continue to dream about places and great cities and great plagues about which people know nothing. I hear screams, and in the midst of night sometimes I wake up and watch the old owl at my window, alone as I am. I continue to live, I don’t die, I survive among deads.
Days pass. Vaccines reach towns, we get vaccinated. People starts to feel safer. Sun shines in our small town, and from above the factory roof I can see people. I sit there. I write all these, I write things as they are, my love as it is, time like it is. I write about the harbors and the cities and the big dreams I had. The past never dies, always stays alive in a deep part of us.
Alot of days has passed. Epidemics are now part of the old diary, it’s time to move on. I wanted to settle down somehere in life, maybe love someone. I could not, I still alone and visit places. In the midst of night I sometimes see the old owl, alone as I am. Julia died on September 17th among other deads but not on the hands of her lover. Today is her 17th birthday. I visit places around the world. Look up into the skies often from mountains and seas. Something is missing there. The deads never return. Sometimes I Pray for my beloved deads, my family and my love.