The Entrance

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I could feel my heart thumping and beads of perspiration sliding down my forehead as I took a deep breath and stepped onto the metallic rail that slithered into the night. My body stiffened as I saw a beam of light emerging from the tunnel. 

“This is it” I thought as I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the train to wipe me out into the darkness.  The noise was deafening as the train came roaring towards me but as it died down I realised that I had been waiting on the wrong track. I stood there frozen, at the entrance to my second life.





This piece of Five Sentence Fiction was penned for the topic Entrance at Lillie McFerrin Writes

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Disgust

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Around her the crew members were buzzing with activity fixing lights, testing the sound system, shouting, giving and receiving instructions. The choreographer ran up to her panting “Let’s try the new moves for today’s song Ma’am. She sipped some juice, swept up her hair in a ponytail and took her position. She watched the steps being demoed. Now it was her turn.

All eyes were on her, the beautiful supermodel tuned actress. “One, two three….” Loud Hindi music filled the entire set. The lyrics and notes blared into the cool morning air. The song went on to describe the heroine as a piece of tandoori chicken, one whose snap was worthy of being glued to one’s chest. The crowd that had gathered to watch whistled and hooted, pleased with the flowing words that objectified women, depicting them as just an easy means of pleasure.

She was horrified upon seeing people laughing and cheering at the cheap lyrics. She didn't find it amusing at all. In fact, she found it disgusting. For the first time in her acting career, she found herself reflecting about the roles she had portrayed so far. What was it about the twists and turns of her hip, songs with repulsive lyrics and women in arm candy roles that attracted such a fan following?

She was in a fix. But ultimately she decided to bow out of the assignment. She knew of the risks. The labels that would be slapped onto her. Betrayer. Arrogant. There could even be legal issues. Worse, offers to do films would dwindle. But she was sure she didn't want to be a piece of chicken or jalebi anymore.







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Content

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Her wardrobe was an explosion of colour and glitz. Radhika was spoilt for choice when it came to clothes, accessories and almost everything else she wanted. She was the pampered wife of a millionaire who went on endless business trips around the globe in search of better deals and more money. They owned a lot wealth and lead a lavish life; an outsider could never find any flaws in their life.

Yet, as she stood in front of her cupboard trying to decide what to wear to the party that night, she felt a strange sense of emptiness. She couldn't fathom what it was. Maybe it was time to shop for new clothes and bags. Maybe the diamonds had been worn too many times and it was time for a new set. Or could it be because it had been long since a holiday in an exotic resort in a faraway land?

What was it she lacked? Why did she feel empty? Her thoughts were disturbed as she looked down from her window at the adjoining slum. Where did these people come from? She watched with shock and disgust as two urchins sifted through the garbage, picking bottles and jars. When their sacks fattened up with objects of glass and plastic, they exchanged them with a man, for some money.

The children dashed to the nearby shop that sold fly infested samosas, pastries and snacks dripping with oil. Radhika watched them munch hungrily on the samosas. Their faces burst into smiles as they wiped their oily hands on their knickers and prepared for a nap near the stinking pile of garbage. She then realised what was wrong. She had never once felt content.





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Brave

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Her heart swelled with pride as she watched her daughter picking vegetables from their small but well-kept garden. She thought of the little one as the greatest blessing in her life, her sole companion. They lived in a very small house amidst the lush greenery of a small village in the Western Ghats, but even with the limited resources, they lived a life of happiness and endless love.

She ran a small tailoring unit where she sat for hours together, cutting up cloth and making garments along with two other women she had employed. She grew vegetables, kept a few hens and taught neighbouring children in the evenings. Her daughter too pitched in to help though she was all but twelve.

It had been brave of her to stick to her decision of keeping her baby knowing that the journey of an unwed mother was going to be an arduous one. Her parents had cajoled, threatened and finally disowned her to save themselves from embarrassment and public disgrace. Her boyfriend had asked her to be practical. But she knew she was a fighter who would never give up. Not even if it meant the end of her education, luxurious life and the comfort of loving relationships.

She never regretted her choice. In fact she was even more determined to build a new life from scratch with her daughter. Her mind never once wavered even upon being tortured by wagging tongues. She fought her way through life like a brave warrior, without doubts, never turning back.

As her girl came in with a basket full of freshly picked greens, they shared a hug and headed to the kitchen. There was work to be done.

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Alive

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It had been just a few days since she got the news of her incurable illness from her physician. It had taken a while for the seriousness of the matter to sink in and finally she had managed to croak “How much time do I have?” to which the doctor, after a few moments of deep thought had replied “A few months if you are lucky.”

In those few days her world had turned upside down and every moment was punctuated by “Why me?” a question with no clear answer. It made her look back at the life she had lived. Had she really lived for herself? She found herself struggling to recollect times when she had followed her heart, doing things for her own happiness outside the expectations from her family. Who was she now? A wife? Mother? What did she love to do? What did she dream of? She was surprised that she couldn't remember.

She rummaged through her cupboard and found her guitar. It seemed like an object from another life. She dusted it and tested the strings. It felt a little awkward, holding it after ages but as she began strumming, her confusions melted away. She soon lost herself in the rhythm. She played like never before, reminiscing the days she when she used to perform for an applauding crowd. The musical notes swept through her, filling her with life and happiness. It was the most perfect moment of her life. She knew she was dying, yet she felt alive like never before.





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