Broken Walking Stick

The lady was in her late thirties. But she looked nothing like it. The courtroom audience assumed she must be around sixty. She looked composed, more like dejected. Not a hint of relief, that justice was going to be met out that day. Through the proceeding, her head was propped up on her left hand, while she gazed at the floor before her, like a fatigued old lady. When all allegations and cross examinations concluded the fate of the convict, she was asked if she had anything to say. She walked with a slight stoop, to the witness stand and took her place. And for the first time, looked at the man across the room in the opposite witness stand and spoke.

“She was only four. She hadn’t learnt to walk one foot before the other. She tottered as if balancing each foot on two parallel lines. She hadn’t caught up with the latest trend of pouting. She opened her thin lips and grinned showing her milk teeth for the camera. She wore an oversized frock, nonetheless. What did you see in her..”, her face was flushed and her voice choked on the last word.

“She was going to be my walking stick after a few years. Instead, I had to bury her in a small coffin. You killed two people that day. What you did to her will flash before my eyes every day, for the rest of my life. It’d have been better had you chosen to assault me and not her. I might not have been alive today. But that little one, who had just begun her life, would have lived to fulfil it. Maybe, I’d have survived. This is an old rugged body, it might have endured your abuse. Then might be I would have taught her forgiveness someday. But now, forgiveness has forsaken me.” Her voice had become a croak. She muffled through the cloth that she kept dabbing her eyes with.

“She would have been twelve this year, and grown to be a compassionate, strong girl. But today, you have snatched all compassion from me. These eight years while you bragged about your conquest over my little girl, I writhed in pain and shuddered at the glance of every person who looked at me a little longer than usual. I had never seen you until this moment. I only knew your name. I didn’t want to put a face on my most excruciating horror.”

“It is not mine to show compassion seeing those tears streaming down your mute face. You grew up a vagabond, never knew who your parents were. Is that even an excuse you offered in pleading not guilty? Nobody is bereft of conscience, my boy. As you can’t stop those tears today, my daughter too must have..” she squeezed her eyes shut, and gripped the bar of witness stand tightly as if saving herself from being overthrown off a precipice.

“I’ll not demand a capital punishment if the court decides otherwise. A life for a life would leave the whole world dead. And your death wouldn’t give life to my daughter. But given the prerogative, I’ll not let you roam the streets free. Else people will get the idea that taking a life in such a brutal manner is not a big issue. And that it can be attempted again and again to satiate one’s lust, and then one can walk away scot-free.”
“Had I been more relieved if this case hadn’t taken eight years? Definitely. Am I satisfied that you’d be finally condemned today? Not exactly. Nothing gives me satisfaction anymore. Nothing gives me hope anymore. My world was crushed and broken that day and nothing has been any better since.” She fell on the floor, wailing inconsolably.


Also published at The Dilettante Author.

Bright Black July

‘It’s not going to work out’ she said, tears streaming down her face. ‘Tumi keno bujhte parcho na?’ (why don’t you try to understand?) His gaze fell to the floor & he pleaded – ‘Give me a chance to make it work, please’.

Couple of minutes back, he had come over to her house for a casual visit. Her dad had answered the door. She came out to meet him and her dad went to their backyard to tend to his plants. They both sat in the living room.

And after some time of talking, when he thought he could, he had popped the question. Her face had turned crimson. She tried looking away, but he saw & smiled. He knew the answer. Just had to hear it from her.

But she denied.

She struggled with her thoughts, fumbled with her words & hesitated to look him in the eyes. He was crying from inside. He badly wanted to give her a hug to assure her that he was serious about them.

She went into the other room sobbing. He sat dejected on the sofa, thinking what his next move would be. He was angry. He wanted to storm out of the house. But he knew, she was the one he would want to go to. And she was here, crying in the other room, still undecided.

He knocked at her door, ‘Please don’t cry. Please would you come out?’ ‘If you are trying to convince me, please don’t’, she said inconsolably from inside the room. He stood, his fist clenched against the door, thinking as to what his parting words would be. ‘Remember this, nothing will change between us.’ And he left.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She thought he had a smile to die for. Just the thought of meeting him would make her get butterflies in stomach. Just his reassuring presence beside her made her forget the world around her. She never had a worry when he was with her. She trusted him blindly & never gave a second thought to anything that he suggested for her.

There were no sun rays pouring into her room that dark day of July. She gloomily looked at the heavy downpour through her window. Her heart was crying louder. She brought down her phone from the side table and dialled.

‘Can we meet for coffee?’, she asked. ‘As always’, he smiled.

He had arrived five minutes earlier & watched her get down the auto, carefully angling her umbrella against the pelting rain. Aqua-marine wasn’t her colour. But she looked beautiful nonetheless. She hated rain, but he liked her coming out for coffee with him.

He was standing just inside the door. He smiled warmly. She nodded lightly. She suggested sitting near the huge French window of the café. The rain drops trickling down the glass helped her instantiate her thoughts.

He had already ordered for her favourite chocolate flavoured coffee. She drew her thoughts from the rain outside and turned towards him. Looking at the steaming cup placed before her, she said- ‘When you were not there for me, I realised what you meant to me. I’ll not say I can’t live without you because I survived through last week. But I’ll confess I don’t want to live without you. I want to live, and not just survive & not without you anymore.’

All the while she spoke looking into the steaming cup and playing with it. She tried looking away from him, stealing glances at the other guests in the Coffee-Bar lounge. But time & again, she was drawn to him.

She tried speaking again. ‘It was difficult to stay calm & sane knowing that you are out with her. It was difficult to suddenly get to know of another person in your life who held so much importance. I felt bad to know that you had so safely hidden her from all. I wanted to know who Poulami was. More than that, I wanted to know why you liked her.’

 ‘I kept pulling the reins of my mind not to think of you with her. As much as I tried to be normal picturing you both together, I felt myself flaring. My mind wouldn’t stay put with working. It kept lapsing into the void territory where it refused to think of anything but you. I’m not myself again, without you.’

He took her hands in his and –‘May I?’ She smiled, surprised. He lightly kissed her hand and said ‘How could you even think that I could have gotten over you? I love you.’

 She looked at him askance. ‘I have never known a girl called Poulami.’ He said & winked, ‘I wanted you so much in my life.’ He continued, smiling, looking at her bewildered face. ‘I had always loved you, I knew that. I just wanted you to realise your feelings for me.’