Skip to main content

"Lived happily ever after"

"Pretty Preetiii"
There was a giggle from under the blanket and silence followed.
"Is my pretty Preeti asleep?Oh!so now,what will I do with this glass of milk.The goblin will come.Pretty Preeti..Mumma is scared."
"Mummaa,The Prince..The Prince will save me.Ping Pang Po.Ping Pang Po.."
The blanket was soon kicked away and Preeti was on all fours.Yes.Her mother knew how to make Preeti drink a glass of milk.
"Yes...Yes..Ping Pang Po will work.The Prince will come,will fight the goblin..swishhh swashhh cling clanggg...We need to support him right...So we need strength.Come on,qiuck..Mumma will count till five.So drink.."
"Mumma,will he come?"
"Who,goblin?"
"Nooooooooo mumma.The Prince.Ashika's prince?"
"Oh...Yes..yes...he is on his way..Drink Drink"
"What should I ask him?"
"Drink..Drink..Umm..we'll ask him to.."
"Chocolates..umm..no crayons..umm..."
"ok..k..drink.."

The story,the hope,the fantasy filled her world as she finished her milk.
"Mumma,what happened to the prince and princess after they escaped from the cave?"She asked on her way to the wash basin.Her mother did not answer.She had no time to cook up a story.She just wanted to lie down and unburden herself.
"Mumma,tell me the story.Where is he?What happened to them after that?"
"Oh....ehhh...They lived happily ever after beta"
"Happily ever after?"
"Yes...Preeti dear...and they lived happily ever ever after for so many many years...now,come on...time to sleep...sleep sleep."
Preeti was cosily tucked in and goodnight kisses were exchanged.Hugging her mother tight,she rested her head on her mother's chest.
"Mumma,did they live happily ever after?"
A soft yes.
"Everyone lives happily ever after..."
Again a soft yes.Sleep had kissed her mother.
"Then why didn't you and dad live happily ever after?"

Rewind..Rewind..Rewind..
What had pretty Preeti asked?A moment her mother had always dreaded.
The hug was more tight this time.The voice more emotional.
"Sleep well sweetie.You have school tomorrow."

Silence prevailed.Pretty Preeti had drifted off to sleep but her mother lay awake.Wide awake.

Comments

  1. u knw its a quite difficult thing to keep on showering good things on some one, come on now farah, for a change write somethng bad, i knw it wud be difficult 4u, bt. . .:):)..

    felt like reading 'portrait of an artist', in the beginning, so cute..

    u cannot end witout ur little ironies right, nt nly is the mother, we will also find it difficult to let go the story..

    why 'beta', is t influence of ya readings, u use kind of images of hindi speaking(mothertongue) english novelists, i m nt sayin it as a prob, though i feel u can do better wit a malayali touch..

    ReplyDelete
  2. hey..farah...ijus luv d way u treat d subject matter !!
    as always..sweet,simple n striking !!!

    ReplyDelete
  3. hiii...thanx a lotttttt...
    u kno smthin...it seems i am writin for a 'one-reader' audience...hehhee...so ur comments,i consider qte valuable...
    nd abt d 'beta' part...hmm..i donno how...but it jus crept in...surely a malayali touch wd b refreshin rte...next time...

    ReplyDelete
  4. @ Neetha...thanx sweetie...wn r u gonna come up wth urs??waitin...

    ReplyDelete
  5. trust farah to think of an unsual and amusing way to something as smug as separation and divorce...ur choice of subject has quite a range, something many are not able to do, including myself...three cheers to u for that...try sharpening ur words at the edges tho;)

    ReplyDelete
  6. : )all smiles..
    oh sure..sure....will b careful wth the choice f wrds nxt tme...

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Only If I Could

The smile on her face was still the same, as I had seen her on my 7 th birthday.   But the red lipstick had lost its glow and the fair skin looked a bit tanned. It was not the red glowing sun that had baked her brown as she had been indoors for more than a dozen years. It was the dust and years of negligence. I had once shared my childhood with her. The red saree with its golden spots carefully spun had given bright colours to my dreams I had woven on yarns of childhood games. She looked like a bride in her bright red saree celebrating life with golden bangles, tingling the bell of festivity. She smelt of jasmine.           Now, her beauty is a blurred reflection of the past. The bangles are broken and red saree has faded. She now smells of kerosene that I had once accidentally spilled on her. Her smile did not elicit a smile from me. But I was tempted to pick her up from my closet. There she lay for seventeen years, uncared and...

I am a Femist

"Now listen ma, I am going to be a femist. No I am already a femist." Suchita sounded serious. Tears had already collected in the corners of her eyes. Anita did not lift her eyes from the book which she was reading. Bringing up a kid was not at all easy. "Ma...did you heard what I said?" Anita was quick to correct her daughter this time,"Look Suchi, it is did you hear..did you hear what I said." Anita looked at her seven year old daughter. An editor by profession, Anita could never tolerate a grammatical error.It struck her immediately like a wrong note in the octave. (Rude joke:Editors always search for mistakes) "Ok...did you hear?"Suchita had her hands on her hips. Anita found her seven year old daughter extremely cute. Her hair looked unruly. She looked wild, but aren't tiger cubs a delight to watch. "Did you...did you hear?" she tried changing the tone since the initial question did not fetch her an answer. "Suchi.....

Burnt..

But if I let u go.. I'll never know what my life would be holding you close to me Will I ever see you smiling back at me How will I know?.... The song slowly consumed the inner recess of a soul that tried to hide its tears from the world around.The lounge was full of people but Miriam sat in a corner as if to shun the world from her gaze. Miriam stirred and stirred the tea.The vapours made mystical images above the hot cup of tea.Her memories,desires and thoughts fumed itself into the vapours.The spoon clinked and clanked as if to remind of jingles once sung. The tea bag lay on the saucer. Squeezed,Discoloured. Tears dropped in a rhytmical fashion..one,two,three and a sudden flow. Tissues could absorb the tears.But the pain..the burn..the scorched heart.. Her tears burnt her. She dropped the spoon and took the cup in her hands. She did not wait to sip her tea slowly. Just a gulp. Hot,piping hot tea.. " Oh ! my tongue..throat.." Two more tears flowed down her cheeks..