Ramanathan furrowed his brows. His head spun. His head spun whenever he thought too hard. And here he was, thinking hard about… He didn’t even remember what it was he was thinking about.
Ramanathan sipped the glass of warm water. It was already cold. As he sipped it, he shuddered. The room was cold too. In fact the room was freezing. Ramanathan began to shiver uncontrollably. The glass shook violently, spilling some of the water on the carpet. Ramanathan closed his eyes. It will be over soon. He knew it. It had happened before. It always got over in a while. He gritted his teeth. And then his teeth began to chatter violently. And soon his whole body was shaking. Ramanathan saw the room in a swirl of colour. He was lying on the floor now. The cold tiles sending piercing pangs of pain through his body. He tasted blood in his mouth. He realised that he must have bitten his tongue. Soon the spasms subsided. Ramanathan lay exhausted. His breathing was heavy. His chest heaved. But his eyes were half closed. The rest of his body lay stock still. Ramanathan felt a wave of nausea. Suddenly he began retching. Dry painful retching that brought the bile to the back of his mouth. The taste was bitter. And the metallic taste of blood on his tongue. Another wave of nausea. Ramanathan turned over on to his back. Above him, the ceiling fan swirled at a thunderous speed. Ramanathan pictured it coming loose from its moorings and crashing down on him. He closed his eyes. A serene calmness enveloped him. Gradually his breathing returned to normal. He was sweating profusely now. It was unbearably hot. And the fan was sending forth fumes of hot air. And the floor felt unbearably hot. Ramanathan was drenched. And then he drifted into a fitful sleep.
Ramanathan awoke with a start. An incessant sound rang from somewhere. For a moment he looked around, dazed. Where was he? He could remember nothing.
He tried to get up. But his body was not responding. He saw the room as a hazy grey void. He realised his eyes were closed. But he could see the shadowy shapes around the room. And then he saw himself. Lying in a shapeless heap on the floor. And then everything was crystal clear. It was the library of his home. And the incessant sound was the doorbell. In a moment he could see outside his front door. Mr. Michael, his kindly old neighbour stood stooped on the porch, ringing the doorbell. Ramanathan felt a curious disinterest. His consciousness felt so light and expansive. The next moment, he felt he was everywhere. He knew everything, past, present and future. He was one with existence.
Ramanathan sipped the glass of warm water. It was already cold. As he sipped it, he shuddered. The room was cold too. In fact the room was freezing. Ramanathan began to shiver uncontrollably. The glass shook violently, spilling some of the water on the carpet. Ramanathan closed his eyes. It will be over soon. He knew it. It had happened before. It always got over in a while. He gritted his teeth. And then his teeth began to chatter violently. And soon his whole body was shaking. Ramanathan saw the room in a swirl of colour. He was lying on the floor now. The cold tiles sending piercing pangs of pain through his body. He tasted blood in his mouth. He realised that he must have bitten his tongue. Soon the spasms subsided. Ramanathan lay exhausted. His breathing was heavy. His chest heaved. But his eyes were half closed. The rest of his body lay stock still. Ramanathan felt a wave of nausea. Suddenly he began retching. Dry painful retching that brought the bile to the back of his mouth. The taste was bitter. And the metallic taste of blood on his tongue. Another wave of nausea. Ramanathan turned over on to his back. Above him, the ceiling fan swirled at a thunderous speed. Ramanathan pictured it coming loose from its moorings and crashing down on him. He closed his eyes. A serene calmness enveloped him. Gradually his breathing returned to normal. He was sweating profusely now. It was unbearably hot. And the fan was sending forth fumes of hot air. And the floor felt unbearably hot. Ramanathan was drenched. And then he drifted into a fitful sleep.
Ramanathan awoke with a start. An incessant sound rang from somewhere. For a moment he looked around, dazed. Where was he? He could remember nothing.
He tried to get up. But his body was not responding. He saw the room as a hazy grey void. He realised his eyes were closed. But he could see the shadowy shapes around the room. And then he saw himself. Lying in a shapeless heap on the floor. And then everything was crystal clear. It was the library of his home. And the incessant sound was the doorbell. In a moment he could see outside his front door. Mr. Michael, his kindly old neighbour stood stooped on the porch, ringing the doorbell. Ramanathan felt a curious disinterest. His consciousness felt so light and expansive. The next moment, he felt he was everywhere. He knew everything, past, present and future. He was one with existence.
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