Overthinking

Mohan walks into his room and locks the door. He puts the file in his hand on his table, takes off his shoes, and walks towards his bed. Slowly, he leaps onto the bed with his face down. The tube light in the room is on, making a small humming sound. It feels as if it has lost its once all-white charm and is now in its dying yellow era. Rather than giving in to its dullness, Mohan decides to close his eyes. He takes a deep breath and releases it slowly, feeling the air going out of his body. Completely.

;

Then, as he slowly breathes, he feels his chest and stomach against the bed, rising and falling. Sensing every cell of his body, he feels the movement of all the air particles taking space in its compartments. The lighter warmth of his breath gives way to a warmer feeling of his blood flow. Discovering his different body parts through the bloodstream, Mohan feels weightless.

After several exhales, Mohan feels the blood moving toward his feet. His feet hang in the air, stretched a bit out of the bed, as he has not adjusted himself properly. The blood in his feet was always there, perpetually flowing, but only now is Mohan sensing the flow. It reaches the fingers of his feet, slightly moving them in no specific direction. One delicately touches the other.

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The swirling of the fan and its slightly creaking sound blend in with the gush of windy air it is circulating. The resulting sound complements the dullness spread by the tube light.

Mohan unfolds the shawl. Step by step, all the folds come out of their cornered squares, and the threads restructure themselves into a familiar shape of Mohan’s body, mainly, his face. Smelling the familiar scent of his breath, the threads give way to the incoming and outgoing. Mohan’s forearm is holding the shawl on his forehead. Stretched. Inside the shawl, as he breathes slowly but unevenly, the light feels dimmer through the cross-cut structure of the threads.

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After a moment or two, he suddenly rushes out of the shawl, gets up, and switches the light off.

Now, only a faint blue ambient light envelopes the room, coming from the window. Mohan has again lain down on the bed and has taken the shawl over his head. Inside the shawl, his eyes are wide open, and the light is much dimmer.

A moment later, he bends his legs and keeps both his soles on the bed. Both his legs are now bent at the knees, trying to balance themselves on the bed. They hesitate to come together inside as well as to fall apart outside. Never completely surrendering to either side. Finally, after some struggle, the knees touch each other and come together to lean on the wall beside the bed.

In this hesitation, he starts breathing unevenly. His chest moves in a jazzy pattern. After some breaths, he takes a louder one and rolls over to his right, his face against the wall. While doing this, the shawl rearranges itself, folding below and over his body unevenly.

He rearranges the shawl and takes it properly. The threads finally breathe a fresh air. Mohan keeps his one arm below his head, giving support to his head. Not knowing what to do with the other hand, he keeps it on his still stomach. His half-open eyes are looking into the dark, toward the table. A light shade of blue makes the file's edge shine in that undefined darkness.

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After gazing into the dark for a bit, he takes the shawl completely off his body and rolls over to the opposite side. Now, his body is not covered with anything. His face faces the wall. His legs are bent at the knees. His forehead relaxes as he tries to breathe in a rhythm. After some time, the movement stops, and his forehead shrinks.

He again rolls over to the other side, but this time he keeps his left leg straight and bends the right leg toward his chest. His right hand is arching over his head, and his left hand is kept aside. His face looks sideways. Eyes closed. The stress is now more prominent on his forehead.

He opens his eyes halfway but doesn’t move. He exhales again and then shifts once more, face now up toward the ceiling. His eyes are open, and for the first time that night, Mohan blinks, not out of reflex, but decision. He closes his eyes, and this time, they stay closed.

Finally, into that seemingly silent night, silence falls.