A short story..
Wild flowers blossom as the sun shines down the horizon. The wind blows soothingly and carries with it the smell of the earth and dew drops still linger on the leaves. A lone figure walks down with mind elsewhere and holds something tightly. The faded blue jeans and the plain white top makes her look pale. Her hair fall down her pink cheeks straight and end in loose curls. Her black eyes look down and
hardly rise from the ground. There is something that is hurting her, she doesnt want to see beyond 12 inches from her feet. She doesn't want to even enjoy the weather that is giving the chaiwala (tea-shop owner) his best business in months as tonnes of orders for pakoras from his steaming hot oil vessel and masala-chai (tea) are outnumbering the number of vessels he in all has. She keeps on walking past those people without even raising to steal a glance and stops for a second. Her grip gets tighhter and then suddenly she does something that makes every head turn in her direction and fills all eyes wide with shock. Cries, shrieks, gasps for air, and the winds' rustles in the trees are all that can be heard then. Pool of blood on which now the girl lies has now turned her top red but now her face is serene and the fingers unfurl what she was holding. The crumpled picture is finally visible and for the first time I see her smile, finally.
Wild flowers blossom as the sun shines down the horizon. The wind blows soothingly and carries with it the smell of the earth and dew drops still linger on the leaves. A lone figure walks down with mind elsewhere and holds something tightly. The faded blue jeans and the plain white top makes her look pale. Her hair fall down her pink cheeks straight and end in loose curls. Her black eyes look down and
hardly rise from the ground. There is something that is hurting her, she doesnt want to see beyond 12 inches from her feet. She doesn't want to even enjoy the weather that is giving the chaiwala (tea-shop owner) his best business in months as tonnes of orders for pakoras from his steaming hot oil vessel and masala-chai (tea) are outnumbering the number of vessels he in all has. She keeps on walking past those people without even raising to steal a glance and stops for a second. Her grip gets tighhter and then suddenly she does something that makes every head turn in her direction and fills all eyes wide with shock. Cries, shrieks, gasps for air, and the winds' rustles in the trees are all that can be heard then. Pool of blood on which now the girl lies has now turned her top red but now her face is serene and the fingers unfurl what she was holding. The crumpled picture is finally visible and for the first time I see her smile, finally.
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