Skip to main content

Troubled Souls

She walked and walked.Distance seemed diminutive.But,deep within, she had delved into miles of agony that was stocked in the last few days.
Ahmm...a deep sigh.
She could feel the burn in her eyes,the heaviness in her heart..the off-beat rhythm of life was consuming the being in her.
Her legs could not hold her any more.She struggled a step or two and finally gave way to the physical intricacies that conspired with her mental tortures.
She tried to sit,but her body competed hard and pulled her down.
Slowly..slowly..slowly..
Her head touched the ground.The blackness of tar in front of her entered her eyes and filled her vision...

People crowded around her.
"Hey,somebody take her to a hospital."
"Who is this?I haven't seen her before."
"Excuse me,Have you seen the entire population before?",a silent thinker engrossed in his ever silent thoughts.
Looks,glances,gapes,thoughts,counter thoughts.
"Mummy,what happened to her?",tiny Ritika enquired.
The sweetness of the voice travelled through the tired soul.The intensity of the question was beyond reviving her.

Who cared for what happened to her?
"My sorrows die with me..
No more of this world."

She came as a stranger.She left as a stranger.
Tiny Ritika turned back.
"Poor Granny.Where is her Ritika?Will not Ritika be sad if granny does not return?Why is she lying here?"...so many thoughts...not many answers...
A troubled soul,Ritika rubbed her eyes.

Comments

  1. hi nice goin.. n a word about ur gratitude for those following u, 4 me its a great pleasure:):)..

    ReplyDelete
  2. as usual a well- crafted piece. u knw wat i like most abt ur writings? ur efficient way of using words, the right kinds words at the right place and never goin overboard with it. a word of caution or suggestion rather, try different subjects, u wud be able to do with elan:)
    waitin to see more from u. cheerio!

    ReplyDelete
  3. :-) thank u...
    nd abt that valuable piece of advice....i'll surely try new subjects...even i can feel a wisp of monotony in ma writings...will try ...

    ReplyDelete
  4. hi
    i also do think that you can really do well with other subjects. though i also hope that u will write some more of your rinku, ritika chronicles, i absolutely adore those:):).......

    ReplyDelete
  5. heehhehee...
    (still laughin)....thank u for namin it so....:-)
    other subjects....will try cookin up some...

    ReplyDelete
  6. good a post!

    loved reading it:)
    gud luck

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

"Until we meet again"

One Two Three,they came and I lost my count. All in an embrace brown and blue with a band of white. I clutched my ring But missed the caress. The waves faded into the waves But I had no shoulder to rest. The vastness ahead swallowed my tears and echoed from a distant land "Until we meet again."

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...

Kochettan's 'chaya kada'

The smell of hot Samosas frying in the oil filled her with memories of a land she had long forgotten.The land of dreams,hopes,aspirations,laughter,smiles.Not to forget,the pain,tears,and wound it had left behind.The river in the picture, on the wall suddenly confluenced with the imagery in her mind of the still deep waters of Manimala.The days she had spent on the banks throwing pebbles at hoppers,creating ripples(any bum's delight)gave her an impetus to think further. All memories ushered in fresh thoughts and sour tears.The aroma of the piping hot masala tea filled her thoughts.Slowly,gradually she was sipping hot memories.There stood the small,yet happening place-Kochettan's 'chaya kada'.Home meant memories.Memories meant her village.Village meant Kochettan's 'chaya kada'. Her days started with a distant glance of the 'chayakada' from her room in the upper storey.She would peep out through the curtain at the shack, at the corner of the road.The ...