Who is our true Adversary?

A few days back, I was shocked when I found an adhesive wall sticker torn on the floor which I had glued previously on the wall of my room. It was artistically crafted and a simple caption, “it isn’t too late” was engraved on it. Keeping the laborious efforts of the artist in the mind, I decided to put on the torn pieces together with white cello tape. I assembled all the segments of the torn sticker placed them on the table, started gathering the pieces relatively and cautiously. Somehow, after harsh labour of several hours, I did it; I was successful in linking and attaching the pieces perfectly. When I turned it upside, I was displeased to discover white cuts and dents on it. It was not looking perfect anymore, nor was the phrase “It’s not too late” on its locale. This time it was like someone is continuously shaking it, not letting it emancipate the earlier emotion. I heavy heartedly put it and again sewed it on the wall. The wall was a little cold, so it takes a few more minutes of hold up to place the sticker in its position because its adhesiveness was unnatural this time. I managed and finally did it. I took a deep breath and pledged to keep a regular check on it. For a few days, it goes well, I keep checking out its corners, flanks, putting extra sealant whenever I found its corners or sides shaky. Days passed, the sticker was there looking more strong than the previous essence. The small cuts were now fading; it was looking more perfect than its actual posture. I too was feeling good and happy. Time passed, I got involved in things, accumulated contacts, outsets and finally overlooked and forgot the sticker scene. I got busy and occupied by things. There were no previous anxieties, no intention of responsibilities and no lethargy. I was not feeling imprisoned anymore, but there was always some humming inside my mind. I was trying to recall it but unfortunately was incompetent in remembering it. Also, when I was out setting with people there was a strange sense of roping keeping me back, compelling me to get back to the hanged sticker. I pay little intention and let things go the way they are taking off. Time passed and I completely forgot the sticker.
One day after eroding my day in doing nothing, I slept like I was exhausted from decades. The early breeze and cold sun rays awaken me a little early than my daily routine. As I was about to leave for the washroom, I got baffled and frustrated to check the sticker once again broken and destroyed.
This time, its possibility of getting back to the wall was a trifle. It trembles me, I got shivers and a cold spine. I was dumbfounded, my eyes watery and heart heavy. I was feeling sympathetic with the sticker and a little embarrassed too. I was craving to confess sorry for the negligence and failure of not keeping my promise. It was the harshest feeling ever I encountered. I was so ashamed that I found it difficult for almost an hour to have an open confrontation with it. I was feeling shattered, as someone has washed out all my happiness and prosperity. I go to the sticker, took it, beg sorry and promised to bring it back into the essence. I repeated the procedure, assembled it, soldered it, beg sorry again and latched it. This time it was fractured with huge visible cracks. I was feeling sorry and angry. After gathering it laboriously, I decided to remain awake the whole night acting sleepy to check out the real culprit. I pledged not to let him flee this time freely. I was angry, praying for his capture and punishment. The dusk arrived, everything goes into deep dark, and the moon was uttering a curse. I was terrified but agreed determinedly to find out the criminal. The night was passing slowly, dogs outside barking, owl scourging. It was now late, I was feeling sleepy. I was getting at it very tough to keep my eyelids wide. I was resisting but with the passage of each minute, it was becoming almost impossible. It was appearing as I am loosing against the sleep. In the middle of this skirmish, I heard a bang. Within a second, all the slumber and tiredness was away, fear starts emerging. There was an enormous shadow of a hoodie-wearing man on the embankment where the poster was hung with deep fractures. His face was packed with a satanic cry. He kneeled, sobbed and cursed me. I was terrified and stunned. I was water-soaked. I decided to detain him. I gained courage, stepped out, thumped his back. He was about to flee, I shut down all the passages and asked him to reveal his face. He insisted on not showing his face. He argued and warned me that it will be embarrassing and annoying for me. I resisted, whacked him, pushed him and put out his mask. Once I put off his veil, I was destroyed, I was terrified, I was embarrassed to find out that it was me, myself, destroying my own essence. I was ashamed on finding that I was the real culprit of my own destruction.
(The author has completed his Doctorate in Education at Aligarh Muslim University. The views, opinions, facts, figures, assumptions, presumptions and conclusions expressed in this article are author’s own and aren’t necessarily in accord with the views of “Kashmir Horizon.)
[email protected]