Yaksha's POV

Life is hard. Well, literally!

If this university asks me to do one more assignment I am going to drop out. I don't know what the number of projects is that I am doing but I know it's definitely not a number to my liking.

But who am I kidding I won't. I can't afford to. My father had taken a huge loan to send me here and now that I am here, I can barely afford to fail.

I wish he didn’t. But I was too adamant about coming here, getting my degree from a prestigious American College. I thought I would be able to do something with life, help my Papa with his business setup that seemed to not do very well these past few years.

It’s been a while since I made a call back home. I made a mental note of calling them as soon as I reached home after my classes.  

Grabbing my favourite coffee from my favourite cafe, right inside of our college I ask Stella, the barista, how her day has been with a smile. She made a face which made me understand it must've been a crazy day just from the beginning of the day.

It must be difficult to be a barista.

It's not everyday I grab one. Well first of all it's crazy expensive and second of all, I don't like drinking coffee every day. But the load of assignments on my head has made me feel so low. On top of that I haven't eaten anything at all since the morning. I guess I am surviving on a cup of coffee today.

Finding a seat near the glass, I sit down and scatter my stuff. I don't know but I am extremely lucky today to find a seat here, by the glass that too on a busy Monday morning. I always like to finish my projects and assignments in this cafe even if I am not buying anything. It is quite and peaceful and with Stella being present most of the time, I kinda like to disturb her from time to time.

I came here to California last year to finish my undergrad studies. I can't believe I suffered so much and took a 22 hour flight just to suffer more. Even though  I don't completely regret it since I have a better life here, I have friends that I never had in my own country. There is a sense of emptiness surrounding me. A loneliness, I never seem to get rid of. 

Sometimes I ask myself if it was really worth it? Being away from your loved ones, your own country, it's harder than I thought it would be. And now my daily routine consists of going from college to home and vice-versa.

The American dream is nothing like TV shows show you, and mine isn't definitely as happening as I thought it would be. It's not like I am not content, but more so often I question myself, my decisions.

I browsed through several websites, collecting multiple sources so I could at least start writing an essay. It's been a week I have been trying to get myself to start writing on it but I can't. My brain and mind won't just cooperate with me. Every time I start it, I end up not doing it and procrastinating. But I can't anymore since it's literally due midnight today.

This assignment is for one of the general knowledge classes, south asian history. A research about how life was back then in ancient south Asia. How women were treated and how there were boundaries for men and women, which weren't supposed to be crossed. I know I haven't done much research about it but till now whatever I have read, I can mostly say nobody wouldn't want to be born in ancient times.

The rules, the politics, the constant partiality created between genders just to feed to their convenience is not something admirable. Where women were treated and traded as an object, where people fought over things that could have solved over conversations, poor were treated unfairly and rich had the upper authority.

The unjust practice of  the rigid caste system, creating a hierarchical society with limited social portability. The practice of untouchability, downgrading low ranking groups or as they like to call it, to the lowest social status available in the society. Forced labour in the name of taxation, torturing people just because what? They had the audacity of being poor, of not having money because oh well, rich people decided all the luxury and money should belong to them in every way? 

The constant fight between people in the name of religion, glorifying hatred and spreading it as a disease.  

But is the present really different from the past? Why does it feel like we are repeating our own history under the veil of freedom of speech?

As I began looking into it, a certain fort caught my attention. A Mughal fort on a some random person's vlog, showcasing how unique and ravish it was. I scrolled down more to read more about it. Built in early 1300, still standing tall in its place.

A brick red fort that belonged to some Muslim royal family. It was of course magnificent, just as any other fort built at that time. But why is it that those walls seem to attract me more than ever, creating a thin line between familiarity and longingness? 

I couldn't describe it but I felt something towards the pictures, something similar to attachment. It must be an exaggeration but why did it look like I needed to see it in person? Like the walls were calling for me, asking my presence.

As much as I would stare at those pictures imagining I belonged there, the clock struck 11:15 indicating if I didn't leave soon I would be late. And God forbid if I am ever late to that class, the professor marks me absent.

With a defeated sigh I closed my computer completing a rough draft of my assignment as I headed towards my university. It was a 10 minute walk from the cafe and I prayed I hope I won't be late.

Packing all my stuff I rush towards the exit biding Stella a bye. She chuckles watching me almost trip over and waves towards me, mouthing a small 'be safe'. I put my AirPods on and walk while listening to music.

Well, this is what I was talking about. There were no AirPods back in the time. How will I enjoy my walk without AirPods! I listen to my favourite music as I almost run.

I stopped at the crosswalk since it was a red light. I start walking when the light turns green. But a screeching sound overlapped the music in my AirPods making my heart race.

I should have looked to my side. I should have seen the truck coming towards me. I should have heard the continuous honking of the truck.

But I couldn't hear the sound and when I did notice the truck it was too late. It was too close and I froze on the spot. I couldn't move.  The truck… it wasn’t supposed to be there. It was a red light, I am sure of it but then why? 

It was too sudden and I fell on the road, my vision blurring. The wet crimson substance in my hair rolled all over my face. My fingers shook and trembled as if trying to hold something non-existence.

All I could hear was the distant yelling of the people around me. People rushed around to gather around me. But even that sound soon became unhearable, my breathing almost slow to the point of stopping any moment now.

Is this the end? Is my life over?

Will I never see Mumma and Papa ever again? What about my cat? I cursed at myself in my mind for not calling them earlier and delaying thinking I could just call them later. Should I have not come here at all? Now I don’t get to meet my loved ones at my last moment. Every decision I took, started flashing through my dark black pitched vision.  

I had these thoughts until I couldn't think anything nor feel anything.

Everything went black.

I thought my life was over but only it wasn't.