Soul In Agony

She sits, blankly staring at the ceiling above, oblivious to the pain and voices around.

They try everything to make her ….cry, scream, rant…any noise to show she is not beyond help. Days pass by, life goes on, and people by her door. She hears, sees, tastes, feels nothing....no longer cringes at the touch of steady, loving, caring hands that hold back a simmering anger as they feed her. Her father hears an agonised scream; first in months…the mocking picture in the paper …he has been set free…to hunt flesh again. No other victim, she decides, ready to fight him….

 (Dedicated to the latest victims of rape in my small city, a 14 and a 4 year old, may they find the strength to fight back...)

The Victim No Longer

Another night, broken spirit, aching body, skin black and blue. He laughed when she threatened to complain, the false sense of security his diplomatic immunity brought him....

She tolerated thus far for the sake of their child...whose sad eyes now saw what she sought to hide. Now or never she told herself, had been a victim long enough.

Letting go of family pride, she went to the authorities in her adopted land to complain....protection she sought from him, who had terror wrought.

Action was swift, safe house, her refuge...him, her country recalled, stripped of self proclaimed glory.

(Based on the the latest story in the news of the wife beating, now ex Indian diplomat, posted in Britain and called back by the Indian Government, his wife in hiding... and many such victims of domestic violence - both men and women.)

The Conversation

“Will this ever end?....the Country is going to the dogs“, as he switched of the I phone. "I have stopped watching the news channels” his colleague while maneuvering his way through Bangalore roads. "Scams after scams...the Radia tape, land grabs,the 2G scam..." said the fiddler. The driver replied "Even vegetable prices are sky high...hoarding, corrupt middleman " while trying to cut the red signal ...Just their luck,a traffic cop emerges out of nowhere. After minutes of pleading their innocence, the first one slips a 500 rupee note into the greased hands, driving off without a second thought...

 (Based on the corruption and our own - Indian citizens contribution to the endemic.)

The Valentine - Drabble Dare # 12

The Right Mistake

She closed her eyes and sighed, lost in her reverie. 

The shadow crept silently, stealthily forward.

Took her gently in its arms and kissed her

slowly but with hidden passion.

After what seemed like eternity she opened her eyes....

her smile frozen in place .

She pulled away hastily and exclaimed

"Pray tell the meaning of this, Ferdinand?"

"The Baron's wishes, my command...whatever it takes

 to bring a rosy tint on my fair lady's face..."

Not her idea of prince charming and yet...

The note fluttered to the ground.

'Hold on my love, till we meet again - your valentine',

 already forgotten as he bent down for one last kiss.

( Dare Hosted by  Burrowers, Books & Balderdash )

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The Annual Day

Despite a headache she soldiered on...the costumes were good...the moms had paid attention to the newsletter.The children were well... she couldn't expect more, at least  they were older. Replayed the song when a crash was heard, frightened cries, then giggles. "The white-bearded fat man rolled through the church doors..." easily, as it was all cardboard...worse, he began to sob loudly, struggling to get up. She loosened his robe and pulled out a pillow almost his height...She angrily asked “who's in charge of Jingle bells? Your Santa is here”...the new recruit rushed over, flustered. “Get a  cushion for the show” to her, gently, reattaching the three year old's beard. 

Secrets Unraveled Or Tangled....Part 2

I rushed down, almost colliding with the girl....the box dropped of my hands to be caught by the busily texting niece.

A cursory glance at the contents and a shrieking "where did you get these??" ...another lie...."My husband's valentine gift." and an afterthought "Do you live nearby?"... "Naah, visiting for the Hols" was the bored reply. “Where is your Aunt?" was sidetracked by “Which one? Mita Aunt is here too".

I, like others, had forgotten the twin who has drifted off after expulsion from business school. Classmates’ items had been found in her room. “What was he thinking? OMG! Elves are soooo 2009..." was the least of my worries....

Secrets

It was an overheard conversation that brought me here....a visit to my best friend from school. I was on vacation, back at the town where I grew up. I had to stifle the rumours….like before. Felt dirty, sneaking and searching like this. An involuntary gasp of shock escaped my lips when I opened the shoebox and saw the pointy-toed shoes...the expensive pair that went missing from the display at Doshi Uncle’s store. Guilt overwhelmed me…Were I and Shruti wrong in foolishly believing, shielding her often, long ago? The question haunted me as I went down the stairs to confront her

Reminders

The boxes were scattered around....some taped, some randomly filled up. She glanced at the small cardboard box lying at the far end of the drawer. Pulled it out, opening an assortment of things electrical: plugs, wires, tools and then those...

For four years they lay unused, two deaths, a bitter fight and a marriage ensured that they gathered dust....

This year was no different. They were shifting house, the bin of tangled up holiday lights were packed off with a glance and sigh. The tiny bulbs looked on sadly, awaiting the  day to blink and twinkle to their heart's content.

Memories

 ‘Do you know the story of the Three Magi and the Star?’ asked the 10 year old. ‘What about a story about Dhruva Nakshtra?’ replied the grandmother.

They listened in rapture about the child prince, scorned by his step mother, fighting for his father’s affection who sought and was  blessed by(the Hindu God) Vishnu, rewarded by the Rishis (holy men) for his devotion, steadfastness and perseverance to be the Pole Star…

She tracked the skies, as in past years…in an ever changing world; he became her symbol of permanency, like the love of family and friends, the happy memories rekindled.

Black Vision

 He surveyed the scene before him… the men in plume bravely waging a hopeless battle, muttered darkly, “Spanish Armada, more like foolish Armada’. He grinned savagely as limbs flew, blood spluttered everywhere, inhuman anguished cries heard.

 Blackbeard waited for the exact moment, his signature stroke to be unleashed... the young man beside him muttered ” slipping”…He turned a blank eye, with gymnastic perfection somersaulted over the railing …

The opponent caught unaware, a swift plunge, the victory complete. “Hold on, your time will come” Alec Guinness to Errol Flynn with twinkling eyes and grin, as the curtains fell, audience clapped.

( For the DRABBLE DARE # 10 AT http://burrowers.blogspot.com )

(P.S. The winning entry )

The Moving Reunion

The Ramp rolled down, searching, gliding slow and steady, reaching out to the ones who had almost lost hope. It became the symbol of humanity and survival as it transported beleaguered, traumatised men one by one. The world watched with baited breath, expectantly the release of prisoners from their hot, claustrophobic earthly tomb. The unfortunate having been almost buried alive for over two months. Banners, cameras, microphones, screaming crowds assaulted the miners senses but were pushed to the background. Only the sheer pleasure of being alive, reunited with loved ones, surrounded by well wishers, concern for those left behind remained.

( Inspired by the latest and similar rescue acts across the world )

The Flood

She woke up groggy, the flu’s effect dizzying, to her brother's warning not to step out. He, friend and car stranded on the highway. She watches out of the window, swirling waters seeping through row houses below. Her husband stuck at work, she watches, as the power fails, the rooftops of submerged cars, their warning red lights casting eerie patterns in the dark waters. The rain gods relentless, the high tides adding to the woes, the levels increasing with every passing hour, sucking life away in the strong currents forever. Her building stands alone - an island in the foreboding gloom.

(My experience in the Bombay flash floods of 26/07/05 )