Daily Archives: November 19, 2015

‘How I Became Bedridden?’ by Raphael Khalid

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Damn, that was a nasty fall. Doctor said I’m lucky to have gotten away with my legs however damaged. Let’s go back to when it happened.

What happened:

Skiing, that’s what I was doing when my snowy drift was rudely interrupted by a car (in hindsight, I shouldn’t have been skiing on the mountain roads…). A clamorous horn blared from somewhere behind me, as I turned around to look, I was met with blindingly yellow eyes of a black metallic beast on wheels. My heart momentarily stopped, just as it does when I bite off a really big piece of pie. I delicately maneuvered my way out of the monster’s rampaged path, but was met with misfortune right after it passed. I slipped on the road, now harboring no death-machines, and lost control of my body. It felt if I was in a state of limbo, as my body slid frictionless on the snow plated road. That was all fine and well, except for the fact that I was gracefully sliding towards the mountain side guardrail. Being completely flat on my back and gaining speed by the second, I had not many choices given the fact that the slippery, childish asphalt decided to ride shotgun on my body. The space underneath the guardrail was enough to gladly engulf me and spit me out the other portal (which was a steep, ragged and mean mountain side). If I kept my head up, and allowed the steel plates to slap my face, I would have no face. Sigh. Fine, I guess I’ll fall if it means I get to save my overwhelmingly handsome eyebrows. I fit under the guardrail like a peanut sliding underneath a chair, more or less.

The fall:

Elegance. That’s how I fell. That is if you’re willing to ignore the high-pitched goat sounding screams of “gosh darn” and “aw shucks” as my limp, ungoverned body politely greeted rocks and thorns on the roll down. I did at one stretch of time get to take in the beauty of the surrounding world, staring blankly at me. I could see the ashen sky faintly painted with cold, colorless stars. I could see the herculean white-hot eyeball floating in the sky, veiled by the fragile, weak clouds. I could see the once emerald blades of grass capped with cinereous, aged snow. And for a fleeting moment, I caught just a glimpse of an ebony rabbit. It was bundled up into the white snow; it looked like a rock with intelligent, curious ruby eyes. I could also see a tree coming ever closer to me in the street of my tumble, I didn’t understand why it was gaining on me, and then it hit me.

Finish it already:

I suffered a few dislocated bones, nothing too serious, except for a ruptured ligament that would take months to heal. It allowed me to experience excruciating pain when I put my leg at a particular angle. I had to change some things around at home to remain comfortable and maintain my regular doings. I bought a new sofa, new chairs and even a massage chair. The major problem was the bed. I was prescribed a memory foam mattress to sleep on, so I had to get rid of my old bed for that. That’s the story of how I got bedridden.

‘A Busy City Market’ by Roha Khan

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As I walked down the cobbled street, I saw the vast variety of both, people and items. Everyone bustled round, doing everyday chores, not sparing anyone a second glance. Looking around you could see all sorts of people, distinguished by their attire, attitude, and qualities found in that particular individual.

Looking around you could appreciate all types of colours; from bright orange in the advertising banners to pale gray peaking out of advertising boards, worn out in the changing weather

You saw a pattern as you walked. The shops selling the same items were found closer to each other. First you encountered the shops selling clothes. When they slowly petered out, the jewelry shops started, followed by gift shops, shops selling antiques, then fast food restaurants….

It was a place where all the five senses were at work; the brain was busy processing the information and filling my body with all kinds of sensations.

I had alw2asys been a careless person and never looked where I went. In the market, I tripped over a brick, which was placed by the door to prevent it from closing. The words of apology were streaming out of my mouth as I bumped into people who seemed to be appearing out of nowhere.

Inside the shops I examined the nature of items sold; feeling a piece of cloth between my fingers in one store and holding up a piece of crockery in another.

As I got closer to the food section, smells of food wafted in the air. Some were of hot, chili food, while some were of sweet. Sounds of dishes being carried, food being cooked, customers giving orders, waiters delivering orders, added to the aroma in the air.

But it was the large number of people present that overwhelmed me. I have always hated crowded and busy places. And this place was more crowded than any other place I had ever been to.

As the shops were grouped together, according to their similarities, so were the people. Somewhere in front of me was a group of teenagers searching for clothes for a theme party. At one place a group of elderly people sat on a bench, talking about the good old days. A pair of children danced, as they played around the fountain, which sprouted water onto their heads. At some place women stood discussing the work on a length of cloth. Once I saw a family arguing over a piece of furniture, deciding which room it would be best for.

It would be the perfect place for a person who enjoyed the company of others, but for me it was suffocating. In the crowd it was difficult to breath. It was so hot that drops of sweat fell into my eyes and I had to wipe my hands on my clothes. The assortment of sounds was overwhelming: customers haggling with shopkeepers, some where the cry of a baby or the piercing scream of a girl.

I walked away as I felt nauseous. I hated this place and wanted to have nothing to do with it. The place for me was a quite park, not a busy city market.