The Fish Bowl

I love listening to the rich lustrous voice of David Gilmour as he sings the song of our people. “We are two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl. Year after Year,” as he sings with unadulterated passion, I am even more sure that the song resonates with me; it speaks to my core.

The perfect definition of my and Amaya’s life as we move around the same water every day. The remainder of our life.

Sometimes I wonder, “What does Amaya think of our situation? Does she loathe it as much as I do? Or does she enjoys the lack of change bestowed upon us? As we circulate every day around each other like two unpeaceful souls.

Does she wish deep within her heart to be an unexisting creature or to walk on only twos? Does she cry her unseen tears as it makes the water salty with our impossible dreams?”

Please, Amaya, I would like you to look at me and tell me how you feel. Tell me or even shout at me the feelings in your heart. I promise to listen to it wholeheartedly, with no judgment or interruptions.

But don’t worry if your voice is only meek. Because even if it’s only a small gesture like the bend of your fin slightly abnormal, I will understand that you feel the same way I do. Also, please, don’t worry, even if you keep quiet. Because I understand you, Amaya, cause ultimately, you are the only one I have.

Believe me, Amaya, as I am going through so much pain in our shared bitter truth, even if I seem unaffected by it, even if I bore a smile. Even if I dance and sing the songs of our brother, Amaya, I am scattered. I am a broken doll, beautiful only for the ones who truly admire me. And I hate to say it, but Avinash admires me more than I have ever seen you love me. And it pains me; it breaks me, my dear Amaya. But please love me because I am also the only one you have; in the end, it’s just the two of us.

However, don’t you sometimes remember our fellow brother and sister as they float in unlimited vastness? Tell me, Amaya, do you remember mother, as her coat glistened in the scorching sun as she swam away right after giving birth? Do you long for our absent father? Do you wish for the warm hug of our school? Or our first visit to an unknown place so beautiful it makes me shade a tear even today?

Because in the end, you see, it is the same for both of us. We are different but one. We are indeed the two lost souls swimming in a bowl — Year after freaking Year.

***

We wake up, startled, around six as Avinash wakes up. First, we watch him fumbling with his warm blanket as we suffer in the cold winter water. Then, we hear him contemplating visiting us as he lazily gets up from bed.

Does he greet us this morning with the same enthusiasm he shows his four-legged white dog? Does he call us by our name? Does he get flustered to see our naturally perfect face? I wonder every day even though I know the sad outcome.

Finally, does he acknowledge you, Amaya? Because he honestly seems more distracted by my shallow beauty as he blatantly ignores you. I watch him gawk at me with awe, his looks disgusting as he hungrily prides himself after me.

Trust me, as I say, I hate it when he treats you as another being when he is in the wrong because, in the end, he was the one who chose us. He was the one who snatched us up from our loving family. He was the one who went for you to show his unique choices in life. But, the reality was he is vain, and it is sad that it took him no strength to hide his greatest flaw.

As we pucker our little lips to get the drops of food inside our starving bodies, he bends down lazily to drop our meal of the day; he makes sure that he gives us the tiniest amount. He wishes our survival in the little love he gives us, doses so small, not enough to feed a mere ant. But we still flap around to show how grateful we are; cause, believe me, we are. Trust me; we could have ended up much worse from where we are too. I have nightmares, Amaya, about it, don’t you?

On the other hand, Amaya remains mute as if she is consoling me from her heart, silent yet powerful as we look at the unjust behavior of our apparent master. I wonder if she notices my constant meandering as I flow around her.

Avinash has now started to prepare for a day of complete ignorance of the two lives he shares the room with as he puts on his school uniform in total bliss. I thank the lord when he starts playing Pink Floyd because that is the only happiness we get in the day. David Gilmour rings as we listen in awe and watch in utter scorn and betrayal.

Then, saying his ultimate goodbye to his beloved dog, Avinash finally leaves us alone. When will he be back? Who knows? It wouldn’t even matter to us because we are nonexistent to him anyway.

Then the day passes like a sloth trying to climb a tree. Slow and never-ending. A sloth moves so slowly that it nearly seems uncomfortable, making me curious if his body is actually in pain.

Throughout the day, we hear the constant hustle and bustle of the world we will never be able to see. But will ultimately dissolve. We also hear the mother complain about the dog as he comes and sniffs us for the tenth time in the day. Of course, we smell the same, but the dog doesn’t get it, does he? Funnily, he is the only one who is excited to see us. However, his excitement did not affect Amaya and me as we already gave any ounce of happiness we owed to the crook who sold us like a pair of shoes he no longer wanted.

Why? Why did you do that? We were going to die of the filth anyway. Now, every day seems like death to us. A constant lingering kind with no end. It is scary, huh, crook, isn’t it?

Moving on…

We can only tell the time as the sun shifts its composure from day to dark. Hours go by as we play hide-and-seek with each other.

But then, when we are startled by the non-stop bark of the dog, we know Avinash has returned.

Avinash stomps into his room. He takes off his clothes and plunges onto his bed.

The time stops. Again.

Hours go by. Avinash doesn’t even look at us. We swim, chase each other, and move the pebbles, but still nothing. Not even a glance. Not even an angry stare.

Then, a shout. A shrill. A plea for food.

“Avinash, dinner!”

Sounds of his bare soles can be heard as he runs toward the kitchen with the same hunger as he starves all day long with only a meager breakfast. I wonder if he could survive in the condition that he has left us. I bet he would whine and hungrily accept anything given to him.

Could he? I hope he does because death would be too easy for him. I want him to suffer and hope he is in the fishbowl with someone like Amaya. Wonder whether the world is filled with people or if it is only a myth as we observe the world with our fish lenses.

The room’s light is off as Avinash’s footsteps can be heard lying on his bed and finally drifting off to sleep. He sleeps in the vast surrounding as we struggle to keep ourselves warm. Amaya now avoids even looking at me.

What have I done, Amaya? I never wished for this life now, did I? And even if I had the power, I wouldn’t make you the way you are because it would hurt me even more. It doesn’t matter now, does it? Ultimately, we are trapped till death do us part in this fishbowl, wishing, hoping, and praying that our lives are slightly different from what it is now.

As I am wondering about the lives that we could never have, I slowly drift off to sleep. My sleep, my only solace, my only escape. My lover, my sleep, cause I love you so.

***

Then suddenly, I am awakened by Avinash coming towards us to give us our ultimate dinner.