Whispers of a Faceless Life
written by: Anu Shrestha
The red morning sun hovers a few degrees above the horizon, hinting at another lifeless day ahead. Today, I wake up on a pile of junk, surrounded by the remnants of a forgotten world, the stench of decay filling the air as I struggle to push myself into a new day. Yawning hectically, I managed to extricate myself from the debris and ran over to the street vendor for a hot, sweet 10-rupee black tea. I run my fingers through my old, ragged trousers and realized I was penniless. Frowning, I pulled myself away from the spot, the familiar pang of hunger gnawing at my insides.
As usual, I commenced my daily ritual of hunting my friends. Some of them are red, some blue, others grey, but most are black. I grew up with them. They are my only amigos, caretakers – my everything. We have played hide and seek every single day for as long as I can remember. They always vanish in the pile of city garbage and my job is to find them as quickly as I can.
“Hey! Here we are, come and get us!” they yell from their hiding spots, and I search for them blissfully, with all might I have within me.
Yet, there’s a weight in my chest when I look around. Many lifeless figures stare at me, their expressions alien and indifferent. I’m afraid, I know none of them. Who are they? I wonder. Why do they exist? Are they the creatures termed as human??
Nothing matters anymore. All I need is food; the food that could swallow the years of hunger, the food that bestows me the strength to play with my friends, the food that brings a smile to my face, and warmth to my heart, even on those deadly cold nights.
The ones who provide me with a little piece of food are my friends who soothe my belly, grumbling with wrath. I live with them and they exist for me.
It’s 32 degrees centigrade and the heat is relentless. It’s getting on my nerves. I’m sweating. Sweat trickles down my back, and I wipe the salty droplets flowing from my temple with the hem of my shirt. I glance up at the sky, the sun is directly above my head as if mocking my existence. Cursing the egoistic reddish fireball, I continue my hunting game. I manage to find them in garbage piles and start to imprison them in a big jute sack; the only treasury I possess apart from my ragged shirt, faded trousers, and a pair of worn sandals.
Though I throw them into the jute sack, they never get angry at me nor throw dirty looks, unlike many cold humans.
In the eve, I halt my hunting game. I pass the large hospital, cross the busiest highway, and head toward the only recycling center in the area. Each step feels heavier than the last. At the center, I abandon my sack of treasures, leaving them to the heartless master who throws a few coins at me in exchange.
With my head bowed, I collect the coins from the ground in silence. As I start to head back, I keep my eyes wide open in search of a place to rest my weary body for another dark night. But all I find is emptiness. Feeling defeated, I sit on the pavement, staring at the black-striped graveled highway where vehicles whiz by, heading toward distant destinations. I wonder where this highway leads.
What if I started to walk along this path?
Where would it take me?
Would I live the same life?
Would I be hunting my friends as I do now?
Would I be able to sleep comfortably waiting for a new day that might change everything?
I look up at the dark sky filled with twinkling stars and a smiling moon. I try to count each star, but soon realize I can’t. There are millions, no billions—perhaps countless numbers of them. Some appear red, some blue, some yellow, but every single one twinkles in a symphony of light.
I’ve seen how miraculously some of them accelerate and vanish into that vast sky. I wonder what happens to them. Once they disappear, they never return. But still, the sky remains full of them every night. What would happen if every single one of them vanished?
A cold wind slaps my face, pulling me back to reality. It’s a chilly night and a pin-drop silence envelops me. Rubbing my hands together, I glance around, feeling completely vacant. There are no living figures anywhere. It’s as if I’m the only one who exists in this vast globe, lying abandoned on the pavement. Me and the deadly silence; nothing else. Large buildings, houses, and roads stand still, like figures in a coma, staring directly at me in puzzlement as if trying to fathom who I am.
Their giant shadows and cold faces frighten me no more. I’m used to it. I know them. Only the thing is they are still unfamiliar with me. So, I give a sheepish grin and yell, “Don’t worry, I am your friend. I am not here to harm any of you.” For a fleeting moment, I feel as if they smile in relief. I smile back, a small gesture of camaraderie in this desolate existence.
As the night deepens, I realize that my struggles, my hunger, and my loneliness are part of something larger. The stars keep twinkling, the moon continues to shine, and maybe, just maybe, there’s hope for a brighter tomorrow.
- Whispers of a Faceless Life - December 10, 2024
