A collage of MEMORIES

A collage of MEMORIES
A collage of MEMORIES

Thursday, 19 May 2016


It was drizzling with thunder and lightning. She was coming from a neighbourhood marriage party with her parents. It was rainning cats and dogs when they were having the dinner at the party. So they were in a hurry. They did not want to get stuck in rain. So they chose to walk back home in drizzles. She, with her 5" wedges, found it hard to keep in pace with her parents who were walking very fast. She was also enjoying the rain. Her parents were about 10 feet ahead of her. She was starting to feel a bit scared of the passing cycles and rickshaws. The reason lied in past. She had been assaulted many a times by passer by scoundrels who came in bikes, cycles ; touched her body, molested in the mean time and fled in the wink of an eye so that she could not even ask for help. Once a boy had stopped her as she was coming back from tuition on a dark rainning night and manhandled her. She had kept on asking help from each of the passers by, rickshaw pullers, autorickshaws, but none of those cowards stopped to rescue her. That incident still kept on haunting her. So naturally she was scared in spite of her parents walking just a few steps ahead of her, as even her parents might snap at her. In such a turmoil of thoughts, suddenly she heard a bike coming behind. She edged to the left corner of the road. The bike soon came beside her and as she looked at the biker startled, she saw two eyes of a boy of around 25. The burning eyes were fixed on her as if they would molest her with such gaze. She skipped a beat. The biker zoomed ahead and turned left to another road. She was relieved and heaved a sigh. But as soon as she crossed the turn, she felt a pull  from behind, someone pulled her latkan. Before she could try to balance, someone grabbed her waist. As she tried to look who it was, the biker zoomed ahead in a great speed. But she could figure out that it was the same person who had looked at her in an intimidating and vulgar way before. She somehow catched her breath and ran with those 5" wedges towards her parents who were much ahead of her then. She tried to call them but something had stuck in her throat.With each breath she was feeling her limbs breaking down....will she ever catch her parents? Will she be safe?

Rain:  A Pluviophile's pleasure. You know what's a pluviophile? Someone who loves rain.. She was a pluviophile by all means. She was strong, she was beautiful, and she liked to dream. There were many sorrows in the core of her heart, but she always smiled. She liked feathers. She had a hobby collecting and treasuring different types of feathers. She had just ordered a beautiful shoulder-length feather earrings from an online store and the day it was delivered, she was overjoyous. The girl living beside her house was getting married in a few days and she was invited too with her parents. She had decided that she would wear the earrings on that day of the marriage ceremony. The day came. She dressed up in a white anarkali embroidered with royal blue threadwork. She made a beautiful hairbun with her waist-length dark brown curly hair. She wore a maang-tika. On her left wrist was a white stone embedded thick bracelet and on the right wrist was an oxidised metal bangle. There were three rings on her left hand fingers. One of them was a small diamond embedded platinum ring given by her parents. The other two were also white stone embedded silver rings. She applied purple lipstick. She beautifully applied light pink eye shadow, then carefully ran the mascara, and finally the eye liner. She had beautiful eyes to die for. She then tried to take a decent selfie to send to the person she gave her heart to. But she was not a selfie-person and so could not get one. After clicking 56 pictures, finally she got one to send. Then she glanced at the mirror again. "Is this too much?", she thought. Her mom entered her room meanwhile ; "stop fumbling! You are perfectly alright. Now come to the drawing room and take a selfie with us." The selfie session followed till her father coaxed them to go out and reach the venue!

It was midnight. She was standing beside the window of her room. Gust of raindrops was drenching her. Her hair was let loose. Her eyeliner was smudged with tears. Her eyes were bloodshot, her nose was flared. She had in her fist a strip full of anti depressants and sedatives. She had supressed her tears somehow. No, she did not collapsed on the road, she ran and reached to her parents. But she did not tell them what had happened. The whatsapp notification of new message rang from inside the plastic bag which she was carrying to protect her mobiles from rain. Her mobiles were protected, but she was attacked. Her soul was ripped open. Nothing could heal that. It was her beloved who was messaging her on whatsapp. But even he could not help. He was unaware of the incident like her parents. Who knows, he too might snap at her saying that it was because of her dress or because she was walking much behind her parents on the lone road, that she was attacked? She again realised, she was so alone in this male dominated soceity. None would stand by her. None would heal her inner wounds. She was still standing by the window. The rain washed her eyeliner, lipstick...the rain would surely heal her. Will it? Yes, it will....it will have to....Her sedatives cannot, her anti depressants cannot....but the rain can.... may be the rain can... but where is the rain? The rain had stopped, she don't remember when...and her mind drifted away...


1 comment:

  1. Touched. Felt the pain through the narrative.