THE FORGOTTEN WORD

It was the same dictionary. Again. The dictionary with a moulded cover, and a host of torn off pages lying around it. On the table. And just near the table, perched recklessly on his cushioned and puffed chair was Ishaan. And this is what he was humming-:

“Aberration, something not perceived easily, abjure, abdicate, abject, allure, beseech.... aberration, abjure, abdicate, abject, allure, beseech”

He didn’t halt. His aggravating nuance was stretching all over the room, as infinity surging in the universe. He could seem like an incorrigible nincompoop to you. If he does, you are no exception. Ishaan was indeed a fanatic. Without a speck of doubt. But a bit bizarre one. He was ailing from, or rather jovially ailing from, Etymopathomania. It just doesn’t feel implicit, however the reader must not forget his duty to respect the writer and hence, should chew on this disease later.

With glimmering, hopeful eyes, Ishaan hurtled downstairs. With sustained effort, he reached his own secluded dwell, THE DICTOLIBRARY. This place was literally entrenched with all kinds of  English dictionaries that existed in the world, from The Oxford School Thesaurus to the Humongous Collation of Proverbs and Idioms. Each one of them were envisioning the arrival of Ishaan.

With creaking yet brisk footsteps, Ishaan roamed through the marble floor, looking for a word that had invariably slipped from his brain.It commenced with ‘d’ and culminated with ‘h’. But what was it? He could decipher the image in his sharp as a needle memory, but it was just that the word nefariously escaped his mind. Something had to be done.

Then suddenly, Etymopathomania took a toll on Ishaan. He could not control the urge to seize the word and devour his mundane life. He was getting irritated. Incensed. He was getting vexed. The tiny word was searched with commendable resolution and impeccable devotion by Ishaan, however, all of it went in utter vain, to Ishaan’s disgust.

Then, suddenly there was a bolt from the blue. Etymopathomania strandled Ishaan for his failure. He could not bear the betrayal of his beloved passion of remembeing intricate words, but this was a simple one! He bombarded himself with anxiety and coaxed himself relentlessly.

Then the God of death came to pick him up. As the floor dwindled a bit, a torn piece of paper came hoavering over to a pale dead face of Ishaan. The first word inscribed on it was d-e-a-t-h.