Before We Ended Up As Birds

The bus halted, spewed out a handful of people and resumed its journey. I thought of getting into this one, but just picturing myself in other people's sweat made me stop. I was in no hurry, and waiting for another bus was a better option.

In the meantime, the whole city was turning into birds. I wondered when I'd become one. Probably not anytime soon. My friend G had become one on the first day. I was there. I saw it. Felt the wind from his fluttering wings on my face. He squeaked in some alien language and joined the dreamers somewhere far from here. Far from Dhaka. Dhaka dreamed no more.

We had talked about this. Sonya and I. She was adamant that sooner or later, people would throw away these devices that took them to an abyss deeper than any other, an abyss where there was light and one could meet up with their loved ones and lost ones.

Their marketing strategy was pretty damn good. People bought them off the racks. Those who couldn't afford it, stole. A device with which you could create your cosy little world, position the building blocks of everything wherever you wanted. One for me, please.

There was only one trouble: You could not dream anymore. No longer could you be in a place where you controlled nothing, yet remained in charge. The surrealism of playing cards inside a matchbox with both the matchbox and you in your normal size would never be fathomable. Gadgets tidied up your dreams by binding sanity – like leaving your business card pasted upon the gift-wrap. Purple clear.

A city could take only so much. Sonya was probably right. Dhaka would recover, and those who had already flown far away as birds would come back de-transformed as humans. Genuine humans. That such a possibility existed was hope enough for me. Sonya and I would celebrate today. Who knew what was going to happen the next day? I might take off. A bus full of people swept pass me. Mechanical wings appeared on its side, and while turning a corner, it took off.  Even transports were catching our disease now. Mental note: no more buses.

I started walking over to Sonya's. I was running late. She didn't mind me being late. She knew the condition out here. She was supposed to get her old record out from the storeroom. We were going to play the Beatles LPs. She had inherited some when an uncle passed away.

The guard let me into the building and I took the elevator to the third floor. I got off, and fished for the keys. Sonya had given me a set after the whole bird fiasco started happening. I didn't need it, though. The door was open.

I went inside and found a sparrow. It soared past me out the door.