My Feeble Attempts at Fictions.
Wednesday, 28 September 2011

Karma

I was 15 when my chastity was first sold to a man of my grand father's age, and then to another man right when I was screaming in pain and laid in a pool of blood. 


And, then, there was no looking back. It was my profession.
Today, I turn 30. I don't know if I have earned sins in the past 15 years, but probably I saved a few girls from being raped. That should balance my karma. 
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P.S. Prostitution is outright inhuman. But prostitutes are human. If it wasn't for them, the rape index had never seen any boundaries.


Saturday, 24 September 2011

The Definiton- Conclusion

Read Part 1 here.
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I sieved the tea in two cups and walked towards the drawing room.

'Why don't you chant chai chai chai instead of Neha, Neha' I teased him like every other day. He chuckled. This chuckle was the what I had fell in love with 8 years ago.
'Guess who called me today? Priyanka!' Amit has this absurd habit of asking the question and answering it himself without waiting for me to reply.
'Priyanka? The chitchat aunty journalist friend of yours?' I rolled eyes at him dramatically.
'Yea. Imagine! She ran into Papa and Rewa aunty at the Art Gallery yesterday. Papa introduced Rewa aunty as his friend and she was anxious to know everything about them. She thought she was telling me that my father has a girl friend.' He was sniggering.
'What did you say then?' I was concerned.
'I told her that she needs not worry, if there is a wedding, she'll get an invite.' He was enjoying this matter.
'You're mean Amit! By the way, this thing, about Papa and Rewa aunty is becoming talk of the town. I ran into Mrs. Gaba today. You know, she always has gossips of the world. She knows every damn thing that dint even happen.' I was getting hyper.

'Speaking of which, Neha, what do you say, I like Rewa aunty, and you do too, why don't we ask he to be our Maa first thing in when she returns from her nephew's wedding? She is so nice, and she doesn't have a proper family, especially children, to ask permission from.' He shot at me the question I was dreading ever since the moment I had returned from the supermarket.

I took a deep breath, Amit knew I was trying to relax; the sign that I had a lot to say, and he should collect all his attention for the next half an hour so. He has funny way to describe every action of mine.

'Why, Amit? Why is it necessary for us to ask our elders to define their relationships? I breathed. 'They are mature and experienced and way beyond the infatuation stage. It has to be their decision if they want to stay together or not. They are adults, and we are anyway too young to ask them anything they want to do with their lives. We love them, respect them, and we should let them have the liberty to deal with things their way, like they've done all their lives. Don't you see how fondly our 4 year old son talks about his best friend who is a girl? When two 4 yr olds can be friends beyond the difference of gender, why can't two adults be friends? Why do you think they would want to get married? They probably are just friends, who like to spend time together. We do not have to ask them to define their relationship. It would not be fair.'

Amit was looking at me fondly, like he always does when he needs me to know that he understood.
'I love you Neha' He said and smiled at me.
'I love you, too, Neha Bete.' This was Papa's voice who joined in.

I smiled.


Saturday, 17 September 2011

The Definiton - I

I remember the first time I saw her. That off- white Khadi saree with black border, big black bindi and the big neck piece with wooden beads. She looked graceful in her early 50s.

'Hello bete, I am Rewa Mathur and I just moved in next door.' She was the first one to greet me standing on the other side of the threshold.
'Oh! Hello aunty, please come in' I had smiled and welcomed her inside like a good neighbor.

Not just the neighborhood, but she was new to the town as well being the new appointed principal of the local Government Girl's College; and because she lived all alone, evening tea at my place had become a tradition for her. I had liked her as an individual since the very first day.
She was creative, intellectual and everything you expect from a college principal. Except, she was very soft spoken.

Why was I thinking about her today, because I had run into Mrs. Gaba- the gossip queen of our colony in the grocery store today. She has this style of saying things, that even if you are the most careless person on the planet, they somehow get scribbled on the mind, like writing on the sand, which gets washed away with the very next tide, but stays there unless the tide comes.

My train of thoughts came to a halt when I heard my name being called faintly somewhere in the background. It was Amit, he had returned from the office and was chanting 'Neha, Neha, Neha' in a loop. I know this loop won't pause unless I hand him over his cup of tea.
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Part 2 coming soon.

Tuesday, 30 August 2011

The Hunt

In the broad daylight, she pulled up her window. The sun light pierced through her pale skin. 

She let the sun do the burn on her forearm. Masochist, was she? Oh, may be! But the burns did for her what drugs do for the human beings. Relieve her of the mental pain by giving her physical pain. 

It was going to be a hunt night. She needed enough drive.
The burning smell of the flesh alarmed him in the lobby. He came running, pulled her off the window and shut it tight.

He had a goblet in his hand, filled with the red liquid that drove their kind. 
She smirked at the glance of the goblet, and he, at her burnt skin. 

The liquid was poured on the burn and it faded away.
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There they were. Scrutinizing every one in their vicinity to pick the best, healthiest option with a bottle of beer in their hands, not drinking. Trying to camouflage in the crowd, to not get noticed.
He spotted the hunt. She walked towards him.

'My apartment or yours?' she uttered just in time after the essential formal exchanges. The hunt smiled and said, mine. She made a gesture to her accomplice. He followed them as they moved out of the banquet.

The window panes of the car were down, 'the cold wind is such a turn on', she said only to spot a sneer on her target's face. He pulled the car over near a meadow. They got out of the vehicle. The breeze was playing its part. 


The target approached her, she bent to let him kiss her as she saw from the corner of her eye, her accomplice pull the car in a shady spot.

She was getting ready, impulsed by the aroma of flesh, the accomplice moving towards in silent steps, with a thud, she fell on the ground. To see claws, real claws on the hands of her prey.

The accomplice just froze where he was.

They had started from home this evening to get a hunt. Little did they know, they will be the hunt tonight.


Tuesday, 12 July 2011

The Doll

There is a kid. 
She goes to a super market with her parents. She likes a doll. She wants that doll. Her parents find that doll sub-standard. They do not buy it for her. 
They allure her with other things. She loves the doll. She wants the doll very much. She cries.


She goes rebellious. The parents get her all kinds of nice, expensive toys from every part of the world. She doesn't touch them. She wants the doll. 

The revolution goes on for years. She barely talks to anyone, she barely eats. She is filled with hatred.

The parents give in. They get her the doll.

She is happy. She is very happy.

Now, she doesn't know what to do with the doll. She locks it in her cupboard and goes out looking for another toy she can cry for.