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Save My Soul

An Existential Crisis

written by: Pranab Ghosh

 

Save My Soul: An Existential Crisis

The bloodhounds. The milky way. The white car. The sound of the wind, of waves breaking on the shores, where time stood still, trying to crawl on the sand, the beach they say, where you and … I was certainly there with you… was I not…? Time crawling on the sand, leaving footprints that could not be seen. You stood by the waves, while I tried to follow the footsteps that I failed to see. But still, I went on trecking, following, walking …, but you stood still by the waves… I kept on tracking… time, memories, laughter, dream, sobs, tears… and then I could no more follow. But I did not want to give up. I did not want to succumb.
But I wanted to go back to you, stand by the waves, count the sound of the waves breaking on to the shore… But I decided to quiz time itself… I wanted to chase it out of our existence… I wanted to come back to you and ride the time, the wave, the life.
Then suddenly they appeared. Hand clutching hands, hands holding life-saving jackets. They said they have come to rescue me. They said I should not have chased time, instead, I should have counted the waves. Then they turned around and asked, “Do you want to go back?” I tumbled within my soul but did not reply. I shagged within my soul but did not reply. I laughed within my soul but did not reply. I cried within my soul but did not reply. Then they moved closer towards me. I could see the net in their hand. They said they will help me find the mermaid. But I said I am far away from the sea. But, they did not listen. They said they will take me to where I needed to go. They said they will help me meet my times. Then I asked what about the mermaid they wanted to take me to. They laughed, they laughed even louder, they laughed and laughed… and I could take no more… .My brain began to throb.
The sound of the laughter drowned the sound of your voice coming from a great distance… MY HEAD BEGAN TO SPIN AND I STARTED TO RUN. The sound of their laughter grew with the speed of the wind that I was piercing through as I ran. The sound, the waves, the wind trying to burst my windpipes… their laughter trailing me… hounding my very existence… hounding me out of my times, my memories, my companion, my direction and my desire. I could still see you standing by the waves. Then I looked back… and there was nothing … not you… not the sea… not the waves… not the winds… not the laughter that hounded me out of my existence, my times… hounded me away from you… from the mermaids. From everything that I tried to run away from… Did I not want to run away?
Please send someone to take me home. Please… Please… Please… Save My Soul. Please… PLEASE... please… 

 

Save My Job: An Existential Crisis

Good Life! Good Food! Good Job! Good Home! Good Women! Good Coffee Shops! Good Restaurants! Courtship! Marriage! Then…
Time grinds life AND as the wheel turns spinning out desire and the money to satisfy the needs and the surplus that satisfies the unthinkable, the deepest secret … the pleasure… the accepted norms fulfilled … Satisfaction…
Then time comes crashing down. Economy melts. Life’s economy demands curbs, brakes. Existence gets out of control. Desire becomes the venom of the snake that bit the queen once, as she longed for her Caesar, nowhere to be found. Silver screen presence clashes with the ground that shakes beneath.
Then… Do you know anyone … Do you know anyone… Do you know anyone… Anyone, who can save my job?
Then … Then … Then …

 

Save My Marriage: An Existential Crisis

The whistle of the rice cooker. The smell of boiled eggs, vegetables. The soup that you had for breakfast with the eggs that you scrambled. The sound of the oil crackling in the pan on the stove. The smell of your skin. The coffee cup … and then everything disappears… your smell … your presence … the kitchen where you cooked… I look behind and find that you had been cooking for a long … long… long … time. Now, the stove has run out of the gas; you left me ages ago and now pice hotels appear to be the five-star dining houses. I succumb … I HAVE RUN OUT OF GAS! Pointless dreaming up meals that I share with nobody… HUNGRY, ANGRY TIMES BLOW UP AND I LIE IN BITS, BODY PARTS STREWN ON THE STREETS… Was the attack necessary? Was the meltdown needed? WHERE CAN I FIND YOU AGAIN? Why did you have to go? Was this … Was this necessary? The whistle of the rice cooker... The … whistle... whistle... I have not had a rice meal for months... The whistle, the smell of your skin... the smell of boiled vegetable... I go hungry for days, for weeks... Good that you left... the rice cooker... The whistle...

Pranab Ghosh

Pranab Ghosh

Pranab Ghosh is a journalist, poet, author and translator. He has three published books to his credit. Air and Age (co-author; published from Kolkata), Soul Searching and Other Poems (first solo book of poems, published from Toronto) and Bougainvillea And Other Stories (a book of short stories in English, translated from the Bengali original). His poems have been published in Tuck Magazine, Harbinger Asylum, Literature Studio Review, Scarlet Leaf Review, Leaves of Ink, Weasel Press, Dissident Voice and Hans India among others. He is married and at present is staying in Vijayawada, India.
Pranab Ghosh

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