WIND CHIMES

I checked my mirror for the hundredth time and the same reflection stared back. I felt uncomfortable in the formal suit and wondered again why the societal standards of dressing should control me. After all, I managed to become a well- known writer and achieve my aims, all while wearing my sweatpants. Then again, these wandering thoughts were keeping me from the actual test of the evening- the book reading.

           Most people would be thrilled to read an excerpt from their book to a public who loved it. To me it is the worst imaginable scenario though a duty I must fulfill. I never imagined thousands of people would be interested in the musings of an introvert. I won’t say I regret my book being a best-seller. Infact, I’m quite proud of it. So I called my driver, checked myself in the mirror again and started walking out of my apartment before I could stop myself.

                            My driver was already waiting when I exited the building. I slipped into the car, closed the door and my car slowly eased into the traffic. The solitude of my car couldn’t soothe me as it usually did because of my anxiety. Too soon my car was slowing down infront of the bookshop, huge banners with my title cover, ‘Vengeance for the Lost Laugh’ hung in the front of the building. The bold letters of my title made me a little bolder and I stepped out of the car to blinding camera flashes. The event was restricted to a hundred people but all the prominent medias were invited because, this was going to be a one time experience. Better the coverage, better the exposure. I had reached the reading room while still trapped in my thoughts. I was delighted and disappointed that the room was full.

                   I sat in my allotted seat as the bookshop owner got up to speak. He talked about my greatness as a businessman as well as a writer and enumerated many qualities of mine that even I was unaware of, then he invited me for the book-reading. I stood up, the numerous eyes on me were quite unsettling. Still, I managed to get up, sit in the chair and adjust the microphone. I took the book in my hands and shuffled through the pages. The feel of paper on skin calmed me a bit. I took the preplanned page.

            Then I began, “ she was everything I was not. A talkative bubble of joy. Her laughter was like the wind chimes, innocent and sweet…. “ As I read I remembered her and her laughter and it gave me the confidence to continue. I went on to read of how kind and caring she was, of how she was my joy. I trembled but still continued my reading when I told of how she was found mutilated and scarred, a broken wind chime and I ended my reading with the line, “ the death of the laughter, brought out the time for vengeance.” There was long silence as I closed the book and kept it aside for the questions.

                  A reporter towards the front stood up and asked, “the story revolves around the death of a girl, very similar to the death of your sister. Is it coincidental??"               

   "They are not. It is the story of her death that I have written." My reply was met with confusion. The next reporter stood up and courageously asked the question that I wanted them to ask, " the protagonist of the novel is the dead girl's brother and he goes ahead killing everyone responsible for the death of his sister. So if the novel is about your sister's death, are you implying you killed the people who murdered her? "            

 Finally it was time to reply. The introvert had come out of his cocoon, built an empire and wrote a book to answer this question. I adjusted the microphone again, stared at the crowd, smiled and said, "yes. No further questions please." At last I proclaimed to the world that this brother had given justice to his sister. A shocked pause followed the answer. I could hear the commotion I created as I walked out. I asked the driver to drop me off at the beach.

               As I walked along the beach, I enjoyed the silence, the solitude. I loved it. My introverted self was at peace here. I hated the attention of the crowd but for once, for her, I screamed out. I slowly walked towards the waves. The water kept rising around me .As I fully submerged in the water, the last thing I heard was a laughter, like a wind chime.