TALE OF THE LITTLE BOY
~ A Story By Arin Saha highlighting the tragedy of the Hiroshima-Nagasaki Atomic Blast
8:00 am, Hiroshima, Japan.
Ring ring ring!
The same old alarm clock, the same old sound, the same old routine. It’s been days since something interesting happened in the monotonous life that I live. I have been craving for some kind of adventure.
*Sigh*
I brewed a fresh cup of ocha to start the day and noticed that the grandfather-clock in the living room had its hand stuck at 4:09 a.m. A bad omen. I laughed at the ridiculous concept. Anyway, I had patients that I needed to tend to. As soon as I opened my front door, my eyes witnessed a weird sight. Two suns. Two yellow globules, staring back at me; one more piercing than the other. As soon as I noticed it moving, that’s when I felt the impact; a tremor unmatched by all the earthquakes our country is used to.
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My vision was blurred with red and black, numb from head to toe. The world turned upside down, horrifying screams accompanying the ringing sound. It felt like eternity before I was thrown back into reality. The agony was set in motion, and I threw up what felt like blood. I saw the world in dark red and it smelled like rotten eggs.
With my thoughts all over the place, I tried wiring up a plan. I sensed a sharp pain travelling from my left thigh and right arm to my entire body. The muffled cry I heard when I tried to scream for help made me realize how bad my condition was. My body’s automatic and desperate blinks finally allowed me to inspect my surroundings. A big piece of rock was crushing one of my legs from thigh to toe. My other arm, fully detached, was burning inside the fire that was spreading wildly.
Slowly, squelching sounds were clearer, cries more so. I saw a small piece of mirror lying on the ground, and saw my reflection in the red-stained glass. A damaged eyeball, a rod going through my left ear meeting my jaw. Through muffled cries and tears down my face, I tried to look through the window that was now just a big hole in the wall. Shadowy figures, some ghost-like, some simple scare-crows. People with their limbs hanging loose, trying to find help in this helpless situation. As a doctor, it was like a stab to the heart that I couldn’t do anything to help the poor souls.
Funny or not, my mind was filled with flashbacks. We all are hypocrites. I remember how my patriotism was at its peak all the time. I hated these Americans, but what did I gain from it? Once you are lying down with half of your body cut off and blood all over it, that’s when you realize it. Do we really need all this hatred? We all start fights that we can’t finish. One bullet and half these bastards that scream “Patriotism” will be on the ground, crying. The hatred, the shouts, the slogans, the rallies; all pointless. In the end, we all are just weak creatures, prowling and prancing, desperate for survival. I was hit with pure fear. I wanted to cry. Cry for hours and just wanted this pain to get over.
Thoughts of my wife crept in my mind. What had that beautiful lady ever done to deserve this? What about the children? What have we all done to deserve this? Some lied, some stole, some even fought, but the position we are in right now, nobody deserved it. A man-made entity wiping us out in an instant seemed unfairly strong. I was just a simple doctor who recently fell in love, just to be crushed under debris with the sight of my detached limb burning in front of me.
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*SIGH*
Shadowy figures went darker and slowly but surely, silence prevailed all. Neither a word, nor a cry of pain could be heard. It went peacefully all around, and the alarm clock rang again.
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Instagram: @arin841
