In Search Of The Right Jacket

 Hello there. I am a soul. I know it is a little awkward in way of an introduction. You may be wondering as to what's so special about me, considering you are one yourself. However, if you allow me to indulge you in a little storytelling session, I shall endeavor to make abundantly clear as to just how you and me are different, despite affording ourselves some degree of similarity.

I remember that wave of cold as did sweep over me, that first made me properly self-aware. Just like you, dear reader, when it is January, and fresh off of celebrations, the frost seeks to re-acquaint itself with everyone more strongly. Simply put, it is the kind of cold which warrants a jacket. You can say then, that I had forgotten where I put mine. All I knew was to find it, as fast as I could.

So there was I, in a dimly-lit bathroom. As my eyes adjusted, the source of illumination became more prominent. There was the toilet, the paper, the sink. All in its proper place. Only I wasn't, or so I thought vaguely. I regarded myself quite closely in the bathroom mirror. I was still wearing the same clothes that I remembered wearing. Yet, it was the annoying cold that bit and chewed everywhere it possibly could. I proceeded to make my way out, taking one final look back to properly register my surroundings. That is when my eyes fell on something afloat in the toilet water. It seemed like little red pellets. I did not think further of them. 

When I stepped outside, a lukewarm blast of air greeted me. It came accompanied by the clamor of voices. I saw that I was in quite a crowded cafe. There were a bunch of students, young boys and girls, sitting together,  poring over huge Chartered Accountancy books containing numbers and columns, amid rows of orders of fries, laden with colorful sauces, placed in front of them. Yet, all of their excited attention was fixated on something else: a flurry of happening taking place right outside. A white van had been parked, with its back doors wide open. There were flashing red lights on top of it, fluctuating with regular intervals. My keen eyes soon fell upon two boys supporting a huge weight, issuing directions to each other, with the strangest expressions adorning their faces. One had gripped the weight at the lateral end while the other was almost inside the van, holding on to the front. I also could not help wondering that they somehow looked familiar, as if I had known them from somewhere. As my eyes properly glimpsed the weight they had been carrying, I felt something that shocked me to the very core of my being: I remembered who they were.

 Instinctively, I made a run for the exit. I burst open the door to the cafe and cried out for my friends who were only barely visible, as the doors to the vehicle shut behind them. The sooner had I caught up to the ambulance, it rumbled off leaving behind a cloud of smoke.

Standing there, wave after wave of shock continued to go over me. Why had my friends not heard me call out to them? I had made sure to be as loud as I possibly could. Looking behind me, I saw that the cafe-goers had now dived into their meals, albeit talking amongst themselves with sombre dispositions. A few were still peering outdoors via the front of the cafe, doing the same. Their gaze was unfocused: meeting my eyeline frequently, but soon darting towards the person sitting next to them, without acknowledgment of my presence. In the briefest of moments that they did seem to look straight at me, I waved both my arms frantically, like a madman in a fit, but to no avail. Soon, even they lost interest and buried themselves into their meals, eating with gusto.

I then set off on my own following the trail the vehicle had left behind, quite awestruck at what had just transpired. My thoughts wandered, pondering a plethora of varied scenarios, none of which made even the remotest sense. I am 5'10'' and quite the chubby fellow, I thought. How was it that I came to be left sight unseen? It was then that the cold swept over me once more, with greater intensity. Looking down at myself, I saw that I was wearing a yellow hoodie, atop a casual shirt with denim trousers. Talk about being under-dressed for the weather.

My thoughts were then interrupted by a huge wail. As I sprung to attention, I realized that I had walked quite far, rounding a curve off the street, to find myself standing in front of a row of neatly-built houses, with well-mowed lawns. One of them still had a gardener tending to some overgrown weeds. Passing him by, I said hello, but he made no reply and kept on his work. "People these days just have nothing in stock for the good old ways anymore", I said to myself in consolation. Perhaps it is no wonder indeed, that those who do not wish to see, have trouble when it comes to matters pertaining to belief?

Suddenly, the same loud noise rose once more. It was now coupled with several other long and shrill cries. I realized that it had been issuing from the house just at the end of the street. My curiosity brewing, I approached it. It was a quaint one. Some cars were parked in front of it, with a few gentlemen huddled nearby, talking in hushed voices. Taking a cue from the experience with the gardener, I proceeded to ignore them, though I remember wanting very much to listen in to what they were talking about. 

The cold was almost excruciating now. Thinking no more of anything, I stepped inside. What I saw in front of me, was something truly terrifying.

It was my house. The wailing sound I heard was that of my mother, accompanied by a couple of other women who, judging from their attire, were likely to have come from the family village. A few had their heads down,  and were sobbing uncontrollably. I soon recognized the faces of my sisters, and all my cousins who were part of that fellowship of sorrow. 

I was conscious of running back outside and grabbing hold of one of the men in a bid to tell me what was going on. I was again not acknowledged, but I didn't have to be, considering my query got answered with the unfolding of the spectacle following immediately after: complete with knots of sinking suspicion beginning to tighten somewhere within the depths of my stomach.

The men had all begun to move towards something that had just arrived. The feeling of sheer horror multiplying with every step, I took my place among that rueful procession only to behold the same ambulance that I had seen outside the cafe, slowly coming to a halt in reverse. The moment it stopped, the back doors flung open. Out leapt both of my friends, in mad hysterics. Two of the men hopped into the back and came out, supporting my lifeless body. Stumbling my way towards it. I felt an unseen barrier separating me, with the combined force of a wall, fortified perhaps by the cumulative weight of all those I had met along the way.

Thus I became, dear reader, merely a passive witness to strangers laying me to rest. What I wanted, was just out of reach yet right in front of me. I had found it at last. My mortal jacket.

I realize now that I shall forever be condemned to see suffering. I see a family ostracized, for the son had taken his own life. I see an old woman chastised by all at length for failing to be the mother she should have been. I see her daughters gradually encountering silence by all those familiar voices that had provided solace after the untimely loss of an ailing father. I see friends and acquaintances deliberating at length what they could have done differently. I see it all, and it keeps me perpetually chilled. I pray that the reader cherish that warmth of life of which I now find myself bereft. Amen.