To be trapped by walls of concrete, to be trapped physically is a liability not half as cruel as that which inhibits the mind. For there shall always be some sunlight that seeps through the imperfect texture of stone, of marble, the spaces in between. With matters of the mind, well, it takes some bone to be able to find any light through the dense twisted organ called the brain. This story is about one such trapped soul, Nikhil.
Nikhil is the guy you see at the mall. He is the guy you sit next to in the metro. He used the washroom before you at that museum. In all, he is like every other guy you'd come across if you don't live in a shell. But as we all know from experience, there is always more than what meets the eye. He was in the second year of college when the trip was announced. A trip to the National Flower Museum. It was basically a liberal mass of green grass on top of which danced exotic flowers that could beat any level of digital editing. Its beauty was real and yet so surreal. Like all of his classmates, Nikhil signed up for the trip and was eager to spend time in the lovely settings.
The day arrived and they all got off the bus outside the gate that led to the gardens. It was a fine day and Nikhil had been in high spirits, singing all the way to the Museum. But like most things in life, this high was not eternal. As they neared the first blossom, everybody was taken aback by its beauty. The colours lit up their eyes. The aroma was so enchanting, they cherished every inch of air that sought their lungs. But then something happened that astonished one and all. Before they could think or blink, Nikhil started running towards the gate at lightning speed. He had covered his nose with his hands and even when he ran, everybody caught sight of the terror on his face. He ran like a bull chased him until his legs gave in. In all of this, he lost track of direction. Direction in route and direction in life. He knew nothing about where he had reached, physically and mentally. The only thing that stood out in bold words was : "I HATE FLOWERS."
When his friends found him, lying out of breath on a desolate street, his face was flushed red, his eyes were watery and the terror was still alive in him. They asked him what had happened. It took him a while before he could find the answer to that. What had happened at the gardens was his moment of imprisonment. His reaction shocked him as it brought with it the realisation of fear that had been hiding in him for years. The bright colours of the flowers blinded him. The thick smell of flowers choked his lungs. He couldn't breathe in that air as a million emotions gushed into his heart. It all overwhelmed him. He felt like he was locked in a box, helpless, clueless. But why would anybody resist something as universally alluring as flowers? The same question boggled Nikhil until he broke the walls and got to his answer.
The answer lay in his history. It had been dwelling inside him for 7 long years. He could have died without knowing it had this trip not happened. 7 years back, he came home from school like any regular day. But as he stepped inside his house, a strong refreshing smell of flowers hit his nose. He could sense the presence of many inside. But he heard no commotion. He stepped into the main room and right he was. The entire neighbourhood was there murmuring something. In the center lay a huge pile of flowers. Bright flowers. He was puzzled. He looked closer. There was something underneath the array of flowers. It was his mother, dead.
It is surprising how we memorise incidents and how the brain actually stores it. Nikhil thought his last memory of his mother was her waving him goodbye as he hopped onto the school bus that day. In reality, the flowers, their colour and aroma was his idea of his mother when he last met her. The flowers reminded him of her like no other incident had till then. It triggered in him the opportunity to realise, to fear, to mourn and to eventually accept. He broke the barrier of grief. He got lost, only to find himself.
