Bhishaj – Novella: 2

2. WAITING
I was disappointed. I couldn’t sit down in the waiting room. No chairs. Why? Did they want me to be uncomfortable? It’s always like this. They didn’t design this room for me. Then for whom?
I looked around for something to rest my eyes upon. The blank walls, ceiling, and floor didn’t do much for my imagination. ‘Good’, I thought. This gives me the freedom to dwell on what could be coming next. Exhaling deeply, I quieted my mind. Although, I didn’t sense any danger, an awake and ready mindset was essential.

The commander’s aide was standing outside the inner double metal gray doors. Dressed in dull green coveralls, with feet spread, hands clasped behind him, chest out, chin up and looking straight ahead, he seemed uninterested in me.

Usually, I wouldn’t mind standing for a while, especially for what I thought would be a few minutes. Today was different, I had been awake most of the night. After the nightmare, I couldn’t sleep, and was too tired to get up and do something useful. Eventually, I did drift off in the early morning, which resulted in oversleeping. Therefore, I didn’t have time to eat breakfast. On the way to the meeting room, I had passed the military kitchen and an opportunity for some nourishment. I could have kicked myself, as a growling stomach, and lethargy took over. Even though the military’s austere breakfast fare was a seaweed, soybean paste mishmash, it would have given me some energy.

A quote I remembered from the philosophical teachings of Meghnad the Great, helped me to see the situation in a bigger context. “Regret not, for what thou didst not do, accept the unseen plan, go forward with fiery intent, and scorch the skies with fresh aspirations undreamed of.”

My weariness almost drove me to sit on the floor. I’ve waited for water to boil, people to arrive and things to happen, but waiting for my appointment with Plack, the head of island security, tested my reserves of patience and alertness. To make matters worst, the chance that the earthquake dream might be prophetic, had me wondering whether I would survive the day.

Without intending, I began to pace, which was my usual ritual of coping with the unknown. Strutting mindfully helped to quell my impatience and anxiety. Gradually the strength of my determination to relax was rewarded by several involuntary exhalations as the tensions withdrew almost entirely, and a fresh wave of energy lifted my spirits.
Since the rhythmic plodding was deepening my sense of peace, I kept at it. I was aware that the guard was watching me. Being still might have been the most acceptable way to behave, but the thought of another possible plunge into despair or anxious imaginings, kept me moving.

After a half dozen laps from wall to wall, I remembered an illuminating conversation with my mother.