“I don’t know what’s the point of this. What is the point of life? What…
Stories are like a box in which we keep segments of memory holding our best/worst moments. Sometimes fiction, sometimes reality and a few times of ‘fictality’.
Bruises, scratches and cut marks covered all her body. She is lying across the street…
It had finally fallen off, the lone white feather. The bird’s prayers were finally answered.…
She was breaking every falling ray of light on her, was splitting it into a rainbow.
I wished I could tell her how beautiful she looked. Her body so much like a fragile glass, was letting those rainbows pour out of her pieces. I wish I could tell her it was okay to be broken, it was okay to shatter.
It was November 14, 2016, 11:19 pm. I can actually remember the date as it was Children’s Day.
I received a text message, which was actually a query- “Anyone there?”
With a backpack clutched in my hands, and a stole covering my face against the heat and dust, I sat on the backseat of an old or I daresay, classic Bajaj Priya scooter. Blame my short legs or the scooter’s design, I sat a little uncomfortably. A scene from 90’s flashed in front of my eyes. A lady clad in a sari, with vermillion on her forehead, sitting modestly with both legs on the same side of the scooter, hands placed on her husband’s shoulder, riding with a sheepish smile, cherishing these newly found moments of freedom. It seemed these scooters were custom-made for them.
Ye un dino ki baat hai jab
School jana kisi jail jaane see kam na tha
Dudh ka glass khatam karna ek chunauti thi
Aur sahi pair me juta pehenna to jaise namumkin tha
Curiosity kills the cat! Well, even though this is not something I would want to admit, curiosity did hit me hard quite a few number of times.
It happened like this..
March: that pleasant month in a year when winter is about to leave and summer is almost ready to enter. Yes, I’m talking about spring. When kids like me prefer playing from dawn to dusk. I was happily playing cricket with a few street boys when I suddenly heard a lady telling me- “If you don’t get the required marks to pass in the school admission test, I will put you in that hindi medium government school in our colony”. Yes, you guessed it right it’s my mother. It was more like a warning than getting scolded.
Summer vacation was about to start and my pocket-sized brain was managing a massive brainstorming session for the holidays. Hitting the ground for an early morning cricket game was a good option while sleeping till 9, was not a bad thought either. My thoughts were in oscillation until a tap on the head broke the momentum; it was my elder brother. Meanwhile, Dad enters and announces that we will be visiting our native place this holiday. Well, to make it more generic and let you feel the moment, his exact words were “Dadi ke ghar jana hai iss chutti”. Hearing that I was so delighted, my heart floated away in the river of ecstasy.