We - A Short Story

A short story. Reflect on the themes of social alienation, misunderstanding, silent observation, and the easy acceptance of superficiality. Explore the dynamics between isolation inside collective group identity. 

"I see," said Prithak to himself in a world where he was his only listener. As he felt the warmth of his own breathing, he watched the film on the movie screen unfold. Rather, he observed.

He knew, almost intuitively, the entire sequence of events. Yet, he sat there to watch. His eyes looked keen, so keen and deeply immersed as though he was trained in analysing the depth of of human nature. And the surface waters too.

As he leaned back, the projection of fascinating visuals began. But somewhere, deep down, he knew it all. Still waters run deep. Still, beach-goers enjoy short refreshing dips on the surface.

He moved his feet a bit. He could feel popcorn crush underneath.

Simply put, the movie that played was a projection of visuals. But when Prithak turned to observe the others around, he felt a shift stir within. A big boulder covering a rock cave had moved to allow entry within. Into its dark interiors full of light.

What was the stir?

"To them - visuals are outside," said Prithak - his voice carrying an exsitential undertone, "To me - inner visions that project outward. I have always known."

The hall smelled of emptiness. Emptiness that was trying to be filled with substance. By the audience. What did they fill it with? The cheesy breath of spiced nachos. The burnt aroma of caramelised popcorn, some of which had casually been dropped on the carpeted surface - for the helpers to clean.

Prithak got up from his seat. In this way he could give an elderly couple more room to easily move to their selected seats.

A young woman shouted from the back. 

"This is not a private theatre. Anyway, the director isn't quite heard of. This would never be featured in a private theatre."

"What are you trying to say?" asked Prithak, with a gentle smile. But the existential undertone remained.

"That private luxury is out of option. Personal convenience is out of consideration. Please sit down."

A paradoxical gameplay of murmurs and hushes began. As always. If only a microscope for humans existed, could the contemptuous frown, the wrinkles of disappointment be scrutinised with greater accuracy. However, keen eyes wearied by experience were equally skilled.

"Don't create such a mess! You're blocking the view," shouted the woman, "I'm missing out on a humorous scene."

The unaffected segment in the hall burst out laughing. The screen showed how a curved queue line at a hospital reception quickly became the ticket counter of a typical Indian railway station. Not literally. The almost-vertical queue became a haste-charmed horizontal line. Except it wasn't a line too.

Prithak had taken his seat by now. Beneath the gentle smile, his facial muscles were slightly tense. This was his clean reaction to everything that had happened so far.

He moved his feet a bit. This time he crushed the popcorn volitionally. With the same unaltering smile he bent down, collected the crushed popcorn in an already-used container,  and kept this on his armrest. 

There had been quite some movement in the hall. Many had entered and exited the hall while the movie played. The exit door was left partially open. Nobody had noticed. Only Prithak had.

"If only the Banyan's stillness before the pushing winds were a virtue glorified. If only the quiet wonder of the cosmos - its penchant for thoughtful silence as a response to humanity's loud questions - a virtue glorified."

The hall watched the movie continue. What followed was an unimpressed reaction. It seemed like a protest of rhetoric had broken out among the audience.

"Another melodrama."

"A cliched coming-of-age theme."

"Unrelatable."

The scene featured a young boy trying to navigate a labyrinth of humans. Except that he wasn't enthralled being inside. Instead his sole focus was on the way out. His face was partially covered by a black hoodie he wore. But what could not be hidden was the alienation on his face. It appeared cleverly hidden under a facial garb - the facade of a beguiling smile. An alien was lost among humans finding his way home.

Now, torrential rain stormed the labyrinth.

Prithak immediately turned to his right. His scanning eyes stopped at a young adult who sat a few seats away. Prithak felt a close familiarity, a sense of kinship with him. He didn't know him. But the young adult's corporal language spoke something he already knew. Perhaps it was a mental projection. Perhaps not.

The ocean inside Prithak grew turbulent. He placed his palm on his heart to feel the surging waves. But the enigmatic smile remained intact.

This labyrinth scene from the movie named "We" took him to the forgotten chambers of the past. Except that the memories it evoked were not truly forgotten. Only attempts were made which were unsuccessful. So, the chambers were not forgotten. They were like a library's archival section.

Each person's eyes in the human labyrinth grew larger and rounder. Their faces suddenly turned toward the young alien in the middle. Rising piano notes played in the background as their faces turned to embody tension. Then they became rock sculptures. The notes hummed to a softening mellow.

Prithak got up. He held the container with crushed popcorn bits in his hands and slowly walked down the short interval of  steps in the hall. Each person's eyes in the hall grew larger and rounder. Their faces turned toward him in their judgmental observation. Close to the partially open exit door, an old woman sat in the first row of seats. She read his name on an ID card he wore.

It continued to rain in the labyrinth. The young boy shivered in the water's punishment.

The credits rolled. This time only murmurs and not any hushes spread from the old woman to each seat in the hall. Even to the empty ones.

As Prithak - the director of "We" - walked outside the centre, it continued to rain.

Gaurav Chandra Tuli