In an age of easily forged friendships, she had only a friend or two. What rankled was that she refused to mingle with the others, girls whom she had known from childhood. Even on picnics she would stay aloof, walking by herself or sitting on her own, content to be by herself. Aside from the perfunctory greeting, she hardly talked with them. 'Touch me not', Ms. hoity toity, were the snide allegations hurled at her by her contemporaries.
Childhood raced by, youth brought into limelight all the eligible for marriage girls. One at a time they were all spoken for. Then one day, a youth came into her life. It was said that she had rejected a few suitors, or had they rejected her? But this one was different. 'Full of life, confident, ruggedly good looking, he was the antithesis of all that she was. She seemed to join the world, as he took her out and about, enthusiastically showing her off to his friends. The butterfly, it seemed had emerged from the chrysallis. She smiled a lot more, laughed aloud in company. Her eyes shone with happiness finally, and those whom she had ostracised were stunned at the change, but happy for her.
That picnic was so different from the others she had been to in her childhood. They played games with the group , a gang of three young couples ,soon to be married. They took a long walk along the riverside, holding hands. When they returned to the others, he still held on to her hand while she blushed and gazed adoringly at him. If only that day had not ended, night hadden't signalled a return back to home and hearth.
They got into the train, the group still energised enough to joke and laugh. The dour faced men sitting inside either glared or ignored them. As the train rattled along, one man got up. As if on cue so did the others. By now, most of the couples were half asleep, the girls reclining against the manly shoulders of their companions. A creepy feeling, a chill running up her spine made her sit up straight. The men stood towering manacingly over her friend sitting, no sleeping beside her. She screamed and all of them scrambled up to see the girl pulled up by a man. Thunderstruck the three young boys found themselves facing knife wielding dacoits, one of whom threatened them while the others dragged the screaming girl towards the door of the now slowing train.
They probably had not expected any resistance from their soft targets, So were unprepared for the ferocity with which the young boy lunged at them. Grabbing hold of the girl's hand he pulled her in with all his might, fending off the dacoits blows, his high on adrenaline body oblivious to pain. In the ensuing din, the dacoits jumped off the train into the darkness beyond, leaving the girl behind. The boys retreated inside hurriedly, locking the door as fast as they could.
We heard about it the next morning. The funeral of the hero, was the most crowded one ever. She sat their, amongst the women, a zombie. He went, and she closed the doors of her world again. The mask that had been her face was back in place, the only difference now was that people understood , and left her alone.
Childhood raced by, youth brought into limelight all the eligible for marriage girls. One at a time they were all spoken for. Then one day, a youth came into her life. It was said that she had rejected a few suitors, or had they rejected her? But this one was different. 'Full of life, confident, ruggedly good looking, he was the antithesis of all that she was. She seemed to join the world, as he took her out and about, enthusiastically showing her off to his friends. The butterfly, it seemed had emerged from the chrysallis. She smiled a lot more, laughed aloud in company. Her eyes shone with happiness finally, and those whom she had ostracised were stunned at the change, but happy for her.
That picnic was so different from the others she had been to in her childhood. They played games with the group , a gang of three young couples ,soon to be married. They took a long walk along the riverside, holding hands. When they returned to the others, he still held on to her hand while she blushed and gazed adoringly at him. If only that day had not ended, night hadden't signalled a return back to home and hearth.
They got into the train, the group still energised enough to joke and laugh. The dour faced men sitting inside either glared or ignored them. As the train rattled along, one man got up. As if on cue so did the others. By now, most of the couples were half asleep, the girls reclining against the manly shoulders of their companions. A creepy feeling, a chill running up her spine made her sit up straight. The men stood towering manacingly over her friend sitting, no sleeping beside her. She screamed and all of them scrambled up to see the girl pulled up by a man. Thunderstruck the three young boys found themselves facing knife wielding dacoits, one of whom threatened them while the others dragged the screaming girl towards the door of the now slowing train.
They probably had not expected any resistance from their soft targets, So were unprepared for the ferocity with which the young boy lunged at them. Grabbing hold of the girl's hand he pulled her in with all his might, fending off the dacoits blows, his high on adrenaline body oblivious to pain. In the ensuing din, the dacoits jumped off the train into the darkness beyond, leaving the girl behind. The boys retreated inside hurriedly, locking the door as fast as they could.
We heard about it the next morning. The funeral of the hero, was the most crowded one ever. She sat their, amongst the women, a zombie. He went, and she closed the doors of her world again. The mask that had been her face was back in place, the only difference now was that people understood , and left her alone.
brilliant..reminds me of parallel stories..
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