Glimpses of Eternity - Part 2

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Author: Divya Saksena

“Mad,” was my annoyed unspoken judgment, “clearly insane, poor fellow. His people oughtn’t to let him wander about, jumping people like this.” Shrugging my bruised shoulder and wincing at the slight twinge of pain, I too turned away to resume my interrupted perusal of the ancient thermopolium entrance. Slowly, forcing myself to relax, I let my gaze travel over the heat-cracked but still brightly colored paintings of the long-departed owner’s family gods on the inside wall of the tabernum, down to the deep, beautifully tiled ovens for the earthen vessels of hot food, waiting so many centuries for the customers that would never come. Were the gods still here, waiting too, for the offerings denied them for so long? Unbidden, an unwelcome picture that I had been resolutely shutting out thrust itself again into my mind. Jerking it away with a toss of my head, I straightened my tee-shirt, readjusted the shoulder-strap of my bag and put my best foot forward.

“Or drunk. Sozzled. Wasted. Soaked,” I added to myself, deriving an unexplained comfort from the thought, or from simply thinking about him. The idea was an uncharitable one; he certainly hadn’t appeared drunk or even mildly inebriated. In fact, there’d been something...something I wasn’t quite prepared to put my finger on just yet. Then, as sudden quick footsteps sounded on the cobbled pavement behind me, I whirled round swiftly, bracing myself for another onslaught. How had I known it would be him again?

“Please,” he said as he hurried up to me. “I...I mean…um, Miss...er, excuse me, Ma’ am, just a minute.” I scowled and waited, my manner clearly none too friendly. All the horror stories about everything from con artists to rapists and prowlers that haunted places like this one tumbled through my memory. But he was smiling rather sheepishly at me from a reasonably decent and safe arm’s-length distance.
“I suppose you think I’m crazy,” he began.“It was that chariot, you know,” he continued with an effort. “Heading straight for you and I pulled you back just in time.” It struck me suddenly that he was speaking as though half to himself, as though I wasn’t there, as though he wasn’t really seeing me, but seeing…and hearing…

something else.
The note of apology in his voice deepened and became almost ingratiating. “Look, I guess it’s the atmosphere of this place. It got to me and I must’ve been hallucinating or something and now I’m talking through my hat. I’m truly sorry--”
“Don’t be.” I broke in, for I knew what he was really saying. He was pleading with me to understand. My voice sounded thin and harsh and strangely unfamiliar to my own ears. My legs seemed to fold under me. I sank down to squat, in a sadly undignified manner, on the rough stones that formed the edge of the uneven walkway. “I know exactly what you’re talking about,” I told him. “And I really do believe you meant well. Because...you see—I saw it too.”






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