Suffocated

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Reshma cleared the files and papers from her desk and switched off her computer. The clock on the wall told her that it was time to head home from work. She checked her cell phone. She had missed thirteen calls from Satish who had also left her seven messages. With a sigh she decided to read the messages first.

“Hey babes, hw r u?”
“Busy? I’ll call? Wanna head to the beach today evening?”
“I knw u gotta visit ur mom bt can’t it wait? Reply plzzz.”
“Pick my call. R u tat busy? Dnt u luv me anymore”
“Just wondering if you are with someone else. I DON'T deserve this.”
“I knw by the blue ticks on WhatsApp tat u read my msgs. Why dnt u reply???”
“Where the hell r u? Cm home. Visit mom later.”

She heaved a sigh. What was with Satish? Things had changed so much in three years of marriage. Initially she would blush when she received his texts while she was at work. She shared with him her whereabouts and engagements. Her colleagues too thought it was cute and sweet of her husband. But with time the messages revealed his insecurities and inferiority complex. She had tried to convince him that it did not bother her at all that he was a clerk and she, a reputed doctor.

But Satish was always doubtful. He demanded to be updated with each and every detail of Reshma’s day. The patients she met, the fiends who invited her over and even how she spent each penny of her salary. She was fed up of answering his questions. She had informed him that she had an important surgery scheduled and so would be busy. She felt suffocated, unable to live freely. She glared at the messages; they seemed like a death sentence.

She decided she couldn’t put up with his demands anymore and messaged him back.
“You are right. You don’t deserve this. Good bye.”



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Queasy

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“Ma, I can’t do this!” Megha paced the kitchen, irritated that her mother had not informed her earlier. She was just not prepared for this sudden decision by her parents. It irked her that they had gone ahead with their plans, being indifferent to her feelings and wishes. She had just begun working and had many dreams waiting to be turned into reality.

Her mother seemed to be composed and nonchalant. She dismissed her daughter’s concerns saying she was being immature. “Give it some time, you will be absolutely fine. What’s wrong in meeting Ankit and having a chat with him? Remember that we always choose the best for you.”

“Ankit may be the best guy in the world, Ma. But…”

“No ifs and buts. You are meeting him.”

The thought of meeting Ankit when she was already in love with Sunil made Megha queasy. Her parents had known this, but were not willing to face the questions of family and friends. She felt sick as she opened the door of the cafe where they were supposed to meet. She took a seat opposite to Ankit determined to send him packing with her well-rehearsed lines when Ankit caught her by surprise.

“You know I was forced by my parents to meet you. To be frank I’m not too keen about this.”
Megha was delighted by the rejection. Her uneasiness faded away as she said a polite goodbye to the stranger and thanked him in her head.

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Proud

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Her heart swelled with pride when her name was announced. Her friends and peers cheered and applauded. She couldn't contain her happiness and excitement as she walked up to the dais where the chief guest and other eminent people sat. When she was handed the scroll that proclaimed her a graduate and the gold medal that made her a rank holder, she almost fainted.

From the stage she looked at the audience, a sea of black robes and hats bejeweled with the beaming faces of proud parents. She looked away with the pain of realization that there was no one accompanying her. No parents and family members to applaud and click pictures, no one to discuss future plans with.

Walking down into the crowd of students, she went straight to her professor and her best friend since childhood, Dr. Anne. She hugged her tight and broke into soft sobs.

“You have done us proud. Forget the past. You made it……..all on your own.” The words comforted her.

Her journey had been fraught with obstacles, but she had now risen from being the mute, dependent wife of an abusive man to a strong, educated woman on her path to independence. She was glad that at the age of forty, she had graduated as a topper.








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Love

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Being in love is the most amazing feeling I have ever known. Just a fleeting thought of my loved one brings so much joy and hope that I feel I’m living a dream. I have heard of love at first sight, friendship that turns into love, love that blossoms during adversity and so many other kinds of love. But this, it is so very different. Can you think of being in love with someone you have never met or known?

Well that’s the kind of relationship I am in. Love that took just a few seconds to happen. And once it did, I fell headlong into it. Love that grows day by day. Love that needs no words or gestures. Love that needs no proof. Love that keeps hopes alive. Above all, love that is truly unconditional.

My heart beats for him; he fills my thoughts throughout the day. He is in my dreams at night. He fuels me with optimism. He knows each and every breath of mine. I am his world and he is a part of me. Whoever said that falling in love makes you fluttery inside was not lying.

I am in love with the little one I cradle within me. I am in love with this journey to motherhood. I know for sure that this love will last forever. 





P.S:- All my posts for the A to Z challenge are works of fiction. Please don't congratulate me after reading this post!! ;)

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Jealous

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Helen

Tonight is the grand finale of the much hyped Fashion Week which will see film stars and celebrities of the glamour world. I stare at my reflection as the make-up artist smears rouge on my cheeks. I am beautiful, easily the best model in the industry apart from Kate. But in a couple of hours that will be taken care of. She will no longer be a distraction.

Cythilicus is a powdery material obtained by drying rose petals in the dark and scraping their surface with a blade. It triggers itching upon contact with body parts which can last up to a few hours. I have managed to get hold of it in time for the finale.

Kate

Tonight is special. I have been the show stopper on most of the ramps I have walked. Today it is no different. There is a reason why I am a crowned beauty. My passion and years of dedicated hard work, nothing else. Whatever shortcuts she takes, Helen is not going to be able to change that.

Cythilicus can cause severe itches but I sincerely hope she recovers soon. I slip into another gown, and smile at my reflection. It was a well-planned “last minute swap” with Helen. She was caught unaware as Kevin, whose signature collection we are here to flaunt, and I gave her the news just before the show began. Funnily, the gown she will be wearing is a deep green.

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Impure

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She was a busy woman. Her youth and impeccable looks made sure she never went out of business. She had been initiated into the flesh trade by her mother when she was barely twelve, when all she had wanted to do was fly kites and feast on flavoured ice. But five years into the business, she was adept at fixing rates, faking her feelings and sweet talking her clients into showering her with gifts. She had even mastered the art of lying to herself about the pain, the disgust, the helplessness and the anger that she felt.

During the initial years her mother had warned her, “Never fall in love with a client. They are not here to give us what we want but to take from us what they want.”  She had believed every word of it until she was swept away from her feet by a man who visited her every Friday. He was in his thirties, fairly good looking, with a streak of gold encircling his ring finger. They spent many nights enjoying each other’s company, talking endlessly until dawn snatched him away from her embrace. She realized that she was deeply in love with this man. She felt trapped between two worlds that could never meet and decided to confess her love to him, convinced that he too felt the same. He was different from the other men she had been with.

His words echoed within her, filling her eyes with grief. “How can an impure one like you even dream of a life with a gentleman like me?” She thought it strange that it was always the woman who was made to feel impure and not the man who was equally involved, even after having betrayed his wife.





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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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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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The Final Call

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She failed to understand the unexpected shift in her parents’ priorities after having nurtured her dreams, fuelled her ambitions and prided in her achievements all these years. With the wedding fast approaching, everyone including her future in-laws seemed to be coaxing her to be more forgiving and less adamant about pursuing her career as they thought it was only through compromise that a marriage could last forever.

She recalled that just a few weeks back during the bride seeing ceremony, everyone seemed to be impressed with her qualifications, her talents and the well-deserved promotion she was offered at work. Wasn't it hypocritical that people wanted brides to be highly educated and knowledgeable yet homely, willing to replace her dreams with someone else’s? “I won’t let anything spoil my dreams” she thought as she picked up the phone to make that final call which she knew would change her life for the better.

P.S: I'm on top of the world now, having written my first guest post for Shanx who blogs at Embark With My Thoughts. You can read my blogging journey here.

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

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The Scarlet Prophecy

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She smeared vermilion along the thin line of scalp that gleamed, furrowing backwards from her forehead.  Her long wet tresses sought refuge within the spirals of her towel wound carefully into a bun at the nape of her neck. She plucked the safety pin lodged between her teeth and secured the obedient pleats of her starched cotton sari, slipped on a few red bangles that chorused in ecstasy at her touch and bridged her brows with a red dot. Her eyes shaped like a lotus petal, were lined with black kohl that smudged at the corners, adding to her charm.

It had been their wedding the previous day and this was her first day in her new home.  She looked at herself in the mirror, surprised at how a ring on her finger and a new mark on her forehead could turn her world upside down. In her naiveté she had consented without second thoughts, to tie the knot with someone she barely knew. She had known no other options. This was what all the women in her family had done and they were all happy, at least that was what they told her.  As she gently touched her reflection, she felt something was amiss but could not settle on what it was. Was it her innocence? Her dreams? Desires? Or was it the twinkle of hope in her and the smile on her lips that was missing?

Memories of her nuptial night which by now had swollen into a tidal wave, lashed uncontrollably across her eyes, spilling over its kohl rimmed beauty. Her shyness, exaggerated by her excitement over blossoming love and anxiety about first impressions, were soon replaced by shock, pain and fear. She remembered with deep remorse the way he ate into her spirit like a savage animal caring the least about the tenderness within her that he was butchering.

This was least expected, not the kind of romance she had seen in movies or heard from her friends. In her mind she begged him to stop but her thoughts refused to form words; when they did, they tied themselves into a stubborn knot at her throat. With a bruised body and a heart pierced by the shards of her shattered dreams, she waited for sunrise. She hoped against hope that the rays of the new day would brighten up her life as well.

Wiping her tears, she walked across to the window and watched her surroundings burst into a riot of colours with a green backdrop. The garden was still moist from the early morning dew that adorned the leaves, grass and cobwebs. They glistened in the morning sun like precious jewels. Her eyes searched for the lone hibiscus that had blushed along with her when she stood at the threshold of the house as a bride. Draped like her in the hues of a bride, the blossom awaited with nectar in her heart, the touch of a hovering bee. She had imagined only hours before, that its scarlet petals prophesied the consummation of her marriage like the vermilion on her forehead. But today it lay shrivelled, devoid of colour on the damp earth.

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The Goddess

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Strange are the ways of our society,

stained with sins yet preaches piety.

Women worshiped akin to God

yet for a little space, made to slog.

Daughters educated for a fine match,

confined within the matrimonial patch.

“Be ambitious competent and bold

yet meek and homely” they’re told

Widows burnt alive, paraded

their lives considered faded,

the childless with  a womb cursed

survive a living hell, lips pursed.

Glorified as an incarnation of God,

over her dreams and feelings they trod.

Don’t mistake her silence for weakness,

see the strength behind her meekness.





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