By Navin
February 13th 1954
Day 88
Perhaps the Final Entry
Dear Diary,
I really thought I could make it till day 100. But, right now, I don’t think so. I can feel
this is the end. Now that I think of it, surviving 88 days is a huge achievement.
Amidst feeling extremely devastated, loss, pain and suffering, this little satisfaction
from surviving this long makes it alright.
So, today marks the 6th day being stuck up this hill; those things are still swarming
the valley. I finished the last of the roti and jam yesterday. I know I said I’d save them
for a few more days, but I don’t know, yesterday I felt a little bit more hungry. I still
have 2 pieces of bread though. Actually, they might be stale. It’s fine. Oh God, I really
miss my grandma’s Piri Piri chicken. And our homemade Wine. I would eat a heavy
dinner on Friday nights, wear my oversized sweater and snuggle up in my bed as I
read the novel 1984. But now, I'm wearing torn and dirty clothes and it’s cold, really
cold, and this wind is ruining my hair which is already completely messed up.
Actually, all of this that is happening right now is a little similar to that novel.
I had to push Jayan’s corpse down the hill; I couldn’t bear the stench. But I’m
keeping the pack of cigarettes I found in his pockets. After pushing him, I realised
those rabid-dog-like things won’t eat dead humans. Just when I was starting to have
feelings for him, he died; I can still see him from here. Sometimes these things just
bite a person and leave, and sometimes they just eat one whole. Which means
Ganesh might be roaming around among these things out there. We could’ve just
listened to Ganesh and moved to that farmhouse he was telling us all about; on the
outskirts of Pondicherry. All of us would still be here. Now, it's just me. I didn't
grieve my family and friends’ death when it happened but, as I'm writing this, I feel a
tremendous loss. I don't want to cry...
My neck, my left shoulder and the skin around my breasts are hurting a lot from the
burn; I fell into that acidic pond, remember? I’m so tempted to pour water on where
it’s hurting, but I’m rationing the only bit of water I have. I have a lot more other
wounds, and I can’t believe I’ve been enduring all this pain for this long. Back home
in Palmela, I would get very upset over the slightest discomfort.
I wonder how many there are left suffering like me. And if there are, I wish they’re
writing about all of this, this horror and suffering and tragedy. People of the future
must know, if mankind survives. What is happening right now will be part of history.
Just like the dinosaur extinction and both World Wars. This is just a really bad
disease, right? It can be cured, right? It must be. I think we can all agree how selfish
and ignorant we, the human race, are. We fight amongst ourselves, because we hate
one's skin colour or language or gender. But, at times like this, we can't save our
species without embracing unity. Everything is just make-believe, all these borders
and laws and everything. I’m not old enough to ponder about things like these, but it
doesn’t matter. I’m going to die soon anyway.
Okay Diary, it seems like it's time. I can see the sky change colour, the Sun is going
down. I'll just eat the buns, and smoke these cigarettes, as I watch the sky turn dark.
I will lay down and touch myself before I fall asleep. Maybe I will wake up tomorrow,
maybe I won't; but I can feel something bad is going to happen and I don't want to
think about it too much. I don't want to die like this, I still have many things to do. I
could write a list of all things I want to do but right now, I can't.
I hope we made it and saved our world; and this diary might tell the future about all
of this extreme horror and suffering; I hope this diary won’t get destroyed. I will be
part of history among many who have lost their lives and loved ones. It was good
while it lasted.
Goodbye.
With love,
Patrícia Ribeiro
By Navin
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