Feverish

Sluggish head. Parched throat. Burning eyes. Lost appetite. Intermittent sleep. And worst of all -- a cranky mood.

It's so very irritating, I tell you.

But then, when you're feverish you have to bear with some unpleasant things. Otherwise, wouldn't everyone relish going down with fever on the slightest pretext!

So here I was, bitterness rising in me, as I helplessly watched my body staging a revolt against me. Yes, I know, I should have given heed to the early warnings. But till the time I'm up and working, why do I need to give it a damn, right? Well, actually quite wrong. But, let's forget the arguments for now.

Because, meanwhile, more sinister things were happening to me. I felt helpless, spent, and vulnerable. I craved for attention and care. And I hate to say this: I had this shameless tendency to flaunt my illness to gain sympathy.

But, of course, no one took notice of any deterioration in my health, however much I flaunted my illness. So, finally, I gave up behaving abnormally.

When alone, I tried to ignore the symptoms. I tried to get some sleep. (I believe a good sleep almost always cures me of anything. The problem, however, is that I cannot sleep when I need it most.)

Yesterday, late at night, huddled in my bed, watching TV in mute, I somehow managed to fall asleep. Or, maybe partially asleep. Because, I felt strange going-ons in my head. I felt disturbed by something I couldn't comprehend.

And then, I felt a cool palm rest on my forehead. Somewhat anxious and worried. Beside my bed, there was a rustling of clothes. And a lingering fragrance, long forgotten.

I woke up with a start. Just like they wake up in the movies, you see, after a nightmare.

I sat on my bed, silent and befuddled.

There was a breeze coming in through the open window. The eucalyptuses were humming outside. And I suddenly realized, as if for the first time, that fever was burning my body.