Resurrection of unanticipated dynamism

The dynamism that could intensely bring our nation to the edge, equipped to stand strong amidst other nations should coherently come from the people and not the politicians. There are a bunch of political parties thriving to institute its power in democratic India. But are they actually interested in carrying the pride of India forward? Do they see people as objects or just obnoxious voting weeds?

Well, keep aside the questions. There is huge shortcoming in the voting system that we do not care about because the impact that it bestows on each one of us is pint-sized, but as a whole it contributes to the nation’s downfall politically. We shoulder the massive responsibility of efficiently contributing to the global development of the nation. All we need to do is to approach politics with a positive frame of mind; stand strong and exercise democracy.

Bihar, characterized by unstable government and corrupt politicians would go into poll before November of this year. The alarming fact is that the people would be sick minded as to who they would cast their votes. The residents of Bihar should come accelerating to manage the possibility of cent percent attendance in the upcoming elections as the ultimate choice of the people is vital in choosing the leader. Oscillating MP's and Unsound journalists should stop bullying people's freedom. As the elections are fast approaching certain things need to be in check and people have the obligation to recognize and teach the uneducated society, as to what has to be done in-order to bring the worthy government to its state.

There has been many conflicting ideologies that tested the fabric of Bihar government. There has been struggles, lack of awareness, corrupt movements and many strangleholds that led the state, be it any party. What is the ultimate of all this? Is it anyway contributing to the benefit of the people? When people begin to realize this fact, inevitably all the corrupt leaders would positively work towards carrying the stride of our nation forward.

All we need is consciousness. Let us cast our votes. Let us question impure democracy. Resurrection of unanticipated dynamism in our bloods could break all the barricades. Let us begin to breathe the holiness of Mother INDIA.

Beyond Darkness

Flexing my head towards right and left, I tried to stay away from his gestures. It was eleven past forty five when I sneaked a look into my half broken watch at random.

“Will you come with me?” he asked.

This question may materialize well to any girl on this planet if asked with the right love and fondness. But not to a woman who sacrifices her body for the sake of money. Not to a woman who is standing desolate in the midnight waiting for the man, she was allotted the night with.  Definitely not to a sex worker, who has been already reserved for that night.

Yes I am Amala, a 35 year old prostitute living amidst many sanctified people in this universe. Not that I am happy to call myself a prostitute, though that’s the kind of reverence society throws at me.

Some men incline to be generous enough to at least pick us up from common points. Irony is the fact that both of them, the man I was waiting for and the man who was harassing me are casual strangers and I had to avoid one and have sex with the other.

“Would you mind if I slipper you” I retaliated back in rage.

“Don’t act as if all this is new to you”

I dint want to get into any sort of quarrel with fussy bastards. It was a night that mattered to me, to my years of battle among many men who smelt really dreadful at heart. The pain that I had to morally face that night could transform my life immensely. I could have slept with anyone that night.

Chennai, though unthreatened unlike other cities always had its hatred towards women like me at midnight. I sometimes doubt if I would come under the category of womanhood. We are just price tagged pleasurable objects.

“Leave me alone” I pleaded. Moving towards the shops, I gazed at the pillar that majestically poised at the center of the four way road. Ashok pillar mostly crowded, had very minimal movement at that time.

The bike moved towards me. He used a helmet which averted me from seeing his face. No matter who she is, be it a married woman, be it a school going girl, and be it a new born girl child, certain men always strive to influence their might on women sexually. Victims, though is a general term is now habitually used to represent women who are raped. Surprising is the fact that they don’t find an excuse for prostitutes too.

He in an attempt to touch ran his fingers over my skin. I pushed him, just to depart from his sexual acts. Most probably these kinds of morons exist because, they assume that we have no right to protest and would succumb to their acts of sexual exploitation.

Like a condom, if something was devised to block such untoward sexual thoughts in the mind itself, women could have handled the society more comfortably however absurd men who come to me wouldn’t have preferred wearing both.

“Leave the hell out of this place”

“Do you think you have the ability to getaway?” he said being so stubborn.

A black Honda Civic was approaching at a distance and I knew that the man, who had officially paid for the night was lastly there.

“You deserve much more than this” I said, as I kicked his balls and thrashed his face with one of my slippers. Before he could counter attack, I started running towards the car. I knew that I had hurt him so hard.

 I had to move very fast towards the car. As a courtesy, the man in the car could have at least opened his windows, to affirm his presence. “He was not my husband”, I thought

I was pleased that he was here finally.  As I dragged the door, a proficient energetic man who could be in mid forties was sitting taut. Probably from his attitude I could guess that he was drunk. I sat inside without any further interrogations.

“Where are we going?”

“Why should it bother, keep shut” he replied harshly.

“What time you will leave me in the morning?” I had to know this for sure. The next morning was very important to me.

“I already paid the amount to Mani. So stop asking questions.”

I had agreed upon a deal with Mani, my agent. He offered me two lakhs on a condition that I had to sleep with any man he booked with, without any resentment hereafter. I would get no percent of the share in hand. I had no other go, but to yield to his deal.

“I could see that your wife is so beautiful” I said to him as the car sharply turned. The lights of the board which said Mount Paradise welcomed us. It was a star hotel.

As I kept staring at the portrait in his car, he was busy finding a place in the parking. His family was so lovely. I felt apologetic for them. Unless men mend their attitude, women like me would always become victims to prostitution.

“Would you get down?” he raged at me. It was no shock that he was cruel at me. He was not going to make love. He was going to have sex. Keeping that in mind, I remained shut.

His cell phone gave a gentle ring. Someone by name Aradhana called him. He cut the call abruptly. I guessed it to be his wife.

“What was she doing at this night?”I thought.

Though many of the people weren't really bothered, some gave us a devious stare.

“Room No 224” he said to the receptionist and she handed the key. Everything was happening so swiftly. It seemed like he was a habitual visitor to that place.

As we entered the room in silence, he went inside the washroom instantly. A flower vase caught the attention of me so badly that I was submerged seeing its exquisiteness and its coherent beauty. The flowers were so fresh and they made the room so refreshing and enthusiastic.

Two bottles of wine barged in. So far the all the men I have slept with, counted on me to pour wine for them. He was no different.

“Your Amala right?” he asked as he scrubbed his face with a towel.

“Do you have a problem with that” I reflected.

Gulping down the glass of alcohol, he laughed wildly.

“Uhh? We are not here for a discussion. I am not your wife either” I said again. He began to show his command over me.

“Amala symbolizes purity. How conflicting life is” he said.

As the alcohol was reaching out to his senses, he started to instigate an egoistic talk.

“All men are impotent” I said in a whispering voice. He has chosen to sleep with a prostitute and he was talking about purity.

“You would get to see that today”

“Potent is when men could get their minds erect and not.” I stopped halfway through the sentence.

When you deliberately touch upon a man’s ego, though he would be on the immoral wall he would start behaving unconventionally.

He started using me. I had no right to stop him. Things proceeded.

Prostitutes are not marriage material. So men’s craziest ideologies could be implemented with such women. And the worst part is you have no right to open your mouth to show your pain.

A sudden loud sound interrupted his acts. He face was becoming red. The phone was ringing inside my shoulder bag. He dint allow me to attend the call for the first time. He held on to me tightly.

As the calls kept lining up, he started to withdraw his force and began to focus on the alcohol that remained in the bottle. He was high.

I seized my cell phone from the handbag. The call was from an anonymous number.

“Hello. Who is this” I asked as I attended the call.

As the person from the other side continued talking, I could not hold back my tears. I didn't know who it was, but a person who was good at heart definitely.

As I was half-naked, I had to dress up to normal. He didn't observe me once all through that time. He was busy consuming alcohol.

“I must go now” I said with tears in my eyes.

He pushed me hard and compelled himself on me. I was regretting the fact I accepted that night’s offer, but I was not working in an organization. I work on bed, when men completely lose their senses. So I had no option to choose what I had to do.

“Stop please. I need to go” as I said this I touched his foot in utter pain. I couldn't even bend properly. He smacked me on to the floor.

He took my handbag and began to see who called me. That was the instant I decided, I should hit back. The two lakh that Mani obliged was within.

I was in no position to clarify to him and he was in no situation to hear all that. He initiated to blackmail with the money that was inside.

I whipped his face with the flower vase that I was once admiring at. All beautiful things in this world cannot remain beautiful. I was not an exception too.

He fell down onto the flooring.

It has been an awful day for me. For a woman who has her daughter hospitalized for having a hole in her heart and her mother choosing to have sex the night she is going to be operated is really contradictory. Though she was stable yesterday I shouldn't have let her unaided. I could hold responsible only one person for my situation, because he has never been kind enough. Heartless men are excused in this world. And people who are really weak enough are being punished. I dint mean to hurt you. She has lost her consciousness and has to be operated right away. The caller, who has been kind enough to find my number to inform, said the doctors would do the operation only if I sign the document and pay the advance. After all everyone are behind money. Some operate, some sleep with random men.

Weeping in pain, I finished writing this note as quickly as possible.  I had no alternative that night. He became unconscious. I left the place hoping that note would calm him, the next morning.

It was two in the midnight. No girl would fancy walking alone at this night, but I had to. I was concerned about my daughter. When you’re in prostitution, sacrificing your body seems simple, but you are liable to lose close relationships and that seems so complicated. I left her alone for the morals I had towards my profession. I thought everything was going to be fine. Cursed, it wasn't.

I started to sprint all of a sudden. There were very little cars on the streets. Not even one bothered to stop. I was too low and sweat was dropping down my skin. All that was plunging my head was the face of my daughter.

There was a sudden flicker of light that was following me. A bike overtook me and obstructed my way.

“Hit my balls now” he said in anger. The guy who abused me in the bus stand managed to block my way. Why was this happening to me? I shouldn't have kicked him.

“How many men have I got to face in a single night?” I bent down on my knees and pleaded to him to leave me.

“You bitch”

He kicked me like a football. I had no pain though; all that was worrying me was that I had to reach the hospital soon.  

“Don’t dare to touch that” I said as he was trying to reach out to my shoulder bag.

“A whore you are, and you have so much gut to hit a man on his balls”

He picked my handbag and zipped it to open. I tried to resist. Be it a fight or sex, women always are underrated and men try to get over them. I lost all my vigour when he knocked me hard with a wooden stick. Though still conscious enough I went down and couldn't fight back.

“Don’t kill my child” I said in frustration.

He wasn't ready to hear my words. He snatched the money from the handbag. If a man feels humiliated by a woman, he would go to any extent to hurt back. Adding fuel is that fact that he considered me a slut and couldn't take what I had done to him.

He vanished into the dark with the money that I had for operating my child. She is already half dead. Aggravating to it, life was turning out to be gloomy and dark. Darker than it was that night.

When I regained some amount of energy, I managed to get up and rushed to the hospital an hour later.

My eyes were exhausted. It was glaring and found it intricate to figure out things. The blow of the wooden stick, still injected so much pain into my being. I moved towards the ward she was admitted to.  Visitors were waiting with much hope outside the wards.

“Where is my daughter?” I asked to one of the nurses there.

“I do not know” she replied half asleep.

“How could you be so clueless?”

“A girl was taken in the stretcher an hour back” another nurse said as I was crying in frustration.

I began to search for my daughter.

“Your name is Amala right?” again the same question. But however this voice had so much of tenderness.

“Yes. Who are you?”

“I am the one who called you sometime back”

“Where is my child? Is she al-right?”

“She is being treated in the operation theatre. Don’t worry. Everything would be fine”

Though I was relieved I couldn't judge what was happening. I was firmly told that only after I compensate the entire amount, they would do the operation.

“Am I living a dream?”

I looked through the door of the operation theatre. Doctors were busy.

“Finally I get to see some hope” I said again.

“Where were you all this time?” the kind gentle man asked.

 Silence was the only thing I could offer him back.

One of the doctors came out of the theatre. Her face was very familiar.

Her coat that she was wearing had her name impinged. Only when she came too near, I could read the words.

“Dr. Aradhana” I read. I came across this name a few hours back.

I started sobbing.

She was so charming. Her face revealed so much of happiness just like how she smiled in the photograph in the car. I had hit her husband with a vase a few hours back. He behaved so badly with me and she in contrary has been my savior. I couldn’t control my tears. There is a force above that works so strangely, I thought.

“Life has been so dark to me” I cried as I held her hands.

“Your daughter is perfectly alright” she said. I dint think about how I was going to going to pay back. All that mattered to me was my daughter's life. When you’re a mother, there is so much of fulfillment and happiness that makes you pure at heart, whatever occupation you choose.

There is always little light beyond darkness. For the first time in my life, I was crying happily.

Reborn

 As the stairs of the church began to spot my footsteps, I precisely couldn't figure what my mind was going through. The words of the bible flashed as I entered the house of worship with perplexity and sheer distraction. It pretended like the bible was echoing to me.

The Book of Revelation in bible remarks of how sins ultimately oblige a deadlock. The world that was contrived for sharing love is now sharing blood. Life is ruining its intent. I hoped the judgment day would thrust into this world, making revelation relevant and meaningful. As I walked through the steps that lead to the church, contrary thoughts troubled me.

“Why is the world so wicked?” I thought.

The air that blew over my face resolved my intention to learn what was happening. The revelation of the bible began to speak retorting to my thoughts deep within. The verses impinged on me so badly, that it revamped into a voice.

“Fear not, I am the first and the last and the living one”

Was it my delusion that was unintentionally consoling my being? Why should these verses be written then? I began to question the existence of god. The worldly episodes have stabbed my soul with an immense test of faith. Every distinct wrongdoing as written by god saw its occurrence in this world of immoralities. Peshawar kids, adultery, rape, infanticide, terrorism, modernization and what not. Emotions have been wiped out in this forbidden civilization.

Once again sturdy puff of air hindered.

“Go and pour out on the earth the seven bowls of the wrath of god”

My legs lost its solidity as the count of the steps increased. Why should the militants target kids? Where is love for each other? Plentiful issues of the nation haunted my soul to question morality.

I knew that the book of revelation would speak for me. But when would it articulate for the world. There was a gentle wind.

“Surely I am coming soon” answered the wind’s voice. Was it the god himself?  As I heard those words giddiness preoccupied my hub of the body and my eyes locked in unity.
All of a sudden droplets of water were spurted over my face.

 “Why are you here?” asked some stern voice. It was the chief priest of the church.

“Could you please pardon me?

“Have you lost your love for this world?” he asked.

“Because the world is losing its love”

“Is that why you’re here?”

“The world is demanding, busy and bloody. I have no one to breathe for. I need to repent for my citizens”

“Have you ever fallen in love?”

“I love humanity and that’s why I am here. I never had any sought of love in my lifetime. I had no time in fact”

“Where is humanity nowadays? The word has no connotation with the world.”

“I read the book of Revelation few days back”

“So terrified about the end; aren't you?”

“Sought of, but that’s not why I am here. I am looking for fresh air”

“Come let’s go. I have the responsibility of adhering to what you do”

“Have you fallen in love? I asked the priest.

“With god” he replied in a husky tone.

My shoulders settled against his body and he was carrying me into the church. There were none within the silent domain of worship. Probably he was the only person who has existed in that church. I lost my relation with the world as I threw my phone into the stream and surrendered my internet links. I realized that there is much more life than all that. I began to explore for what I have lost all these days.

This church gave me exactly that, serenity and silence. I never knew that a church subsisted in this place. An abrupt silence occupied the air around. I leaned over him as dehydration restricted my movements. Half closed eyes were a result of sleep deprivation. Though blur, the sight of what I saw gave a fright.

“Could you see what I could?” I asked him.

“What are you talking about? The chairs? Jesus?” he laughed meekly.

“It’s not that funny”

*****************

Seven angels; all of them wrapped around with white shawls were plainly dancing with a trumpet in their hands. The poise was blissful. I knew that the priest couldn't see, so I remained shut. My half-closed eyes couldn't capture the unusual jiffy. The trumpet made no sound, but the moves were packed with elegance and symphony. The wind blew again.

“Go and pour out on the earth the seven bowls of the wrath of god”

Where are the bowls? The voices that I kept hearing were the verses from the revelation. Did it mean something eternal?

“There is nothing to suffer about. Light a candle. Trust your love for the god. Be optimistic” he said.

He lighted a candle for me and left. Something in me refrained from asking where he was heading to. He walked through those angels. It was apparent that they were not visible to him. He locked the door from within and vanished into the impossible.

Prayers withheld my next few minutes. I was seeking pardon for what I had done, what the world is doing and for what the world would do. A gust of light wind filled the place again.

“That they may rest from their labors, for their deeds follow them”

A loud sound followed the voice of instinct. It was the trumpet of the first angel. I opened my eyes to see that the candle still fluttered strong amid-st the wind. The judgment day had finally turned up. I never knew that a trumpet could spawn so much resonance. As the angel blew the trumpet, the others danced in harmony. The next blew her trumpet. The sound was increasing as the angels one by one began to play them. All the trumpets now sounded in unison. The heavy wind was difficult to hold. God finally decides to come down, I thought. The sound plunged me into a state of unconsciousness. Death approached me with a reason.

“I am the alpha and the omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end”

The storm of wind gradually withdrew as my senses started to disconnect with this world. The words of the bible stopped occupying my thoughts.

The transition period between life and death is eventually something that has heaps of love, not because it involves god himself but there people who still want your life to restart, good or bad whoever you are. But wait, I wasn't dead.

*******************

The zest of the soul, a few minutes later instigated my body to move. I stood up with eventual mystification and with a question of my own identity. Who was I? Why am I standing in this barren piece of land?

When you literally don’t know what you’re onto, the best thing you could do is to hunt for something to gobble. My belly muscles cramped, which finally made it realize that it needed something to keep shut. Dejected, I began my chase for life.

The sight of something unusual baffled me. I moved towards the scene, the lips and tongue were drying. The distance didn't scare me; too much of dehydration pulled me down to the ground. I tried to crawl to that place.

“Why the heck am I getting to manage this all alone” I shouted in anger.

The heat that the terrain was producing was flaming my skin. When I expected the least, the unexpected happened.

“You don’t have to”

A beautiful voice crowned that place. The blur picture was due to too much of dryness. The physique of the person had a very dissimilar structure compared to mine. She had her curves. She was built to perfection.

“Who are you?”

“Doesn’t seem like you need the assistance?” she said.

“I do. But are we unaccompanied?”

“I was glad that I saw you”

“Can you take me to that place” I said. I showed her the water. She held me. Her touch was much burning than that of the heat.

She carried me to the place of waters that I had been trying to get to. The taste of the colorless liquid felt heavenly. So was her company.

“This tastes good. At least it has helped me to get over the heat”

“Do we need to live all alone? I was doomed that I was alone, now that I have you. But what’s the ultimate purpose of us being together. I guess there is something that wants us to be together. Still, why are we here?

I never heard a single word of what she said. The curves of the body and the gloomy talks attracted more of her than her chatters.

“Are you listening?” she stared.

“You belong to me” I said.

I presumed that the entire place was for us. There was no one around like us. A slow breeze intercepted my thoughts. I heard a voice.

“Behold I am making all things new. Write this down, for these are trustworthy and true. I am coming soon.”

Though I dint remember anything from the past, I knew one thing. The “something” that she mentioned existed.

“Love you” I said.

“What does that mean?”

“I just got it from nowhere. Maybe it means, I belong to you” I said.

“You do”

She hugged me. There was no breeze. Only love. 

The Imperfect Soul

Perfect blend of dark it was. The bluntness of the situation was way too emotionally depressing. Standing amidst many sleep deprived people made the situation even worse. The bus was said to arrive at eleven thirty as portrayed by the timing boards put up in the Tiruchy bus stand. Little mention was given about the tolerance level of the timings. Government buses should prefer giving a tolerance of plus five hours, preferably at night hours. The negative could of no chance be a concern. Prostitutes at work were finding their soul mates for that night. My crackerjack figure I guess kept those women away from me.

The busy city was withdrawing its vigor as time progressed fast. People in the bus stand casually started dissolving. My bus was yet to barge in. Coffee always injected a deep sense of gusto within me, for a reason unknown. I moved towards the coffee shop which had sexy posters of heroines put up at the bottom of the walls. For a moment or two, enjoying the curves and gossips in those posters I embossed my voice for a cup of coffee.

“Fourteen rupees” said the guy who stood inside

I gave the change he asked for. There was no one around to intrude the silence of the atmosphere. I took the cup in my hand and shifted towards the place where I sat before. I felt a strange connect behind me; it felt like some air at first that was hitting my neck. The void ambiance was the reason I thought and moved. Looking down I observed there was a shadow behind that was trying to seize my body. I recognized the innocence of its walk. I was afraid to look back. It was pressing towards me. I turned back with a sensation that could have killed my senses.

What I heard stopped my mental plight for a minute. “Do you want an AC bus to Chennai? Just four fifty” the voice said before I could turn back.

In a bid to respond to his unearthly query “No. I have booked my ticket to Vellore. The bus is yet to arrive” I said with frustration and relief, both racing into my blood with force.

As he moved, I took my seat in the bus stand that carried the sweat of my butt for the past three hours. The watch showed five past two. The conference went smooth and my company should be proud of my effort I thought. I was the sole person who managed to get through the process to attend the seminar that could add a very great applaud to my profile. Bizarre thoughts began to dwell, as my eyes started to feel its vagueness. Half through the sleep process that occupied my domain, a strong light flashed in front of my face. The horn sound woke the tired part that was losing its way into peace. I re-fluxed my muscles to get up.

Finally the much anticipated property of the government agreed to find its place three hours later than its prevalent time. Picking my small luggage, I moved towards the bus that looked very strange at that point of time. It looked like some force was deliberately withholding its structure.

I went towards the door. As I neared, the door slung open towards me in an abrupt manner. It could have hurt, but my reflex was quick enough to engage my hands into motion.

“I guess the bus has reached earlier than its timing” I winked at the conductor.

As he reviewed my ticket, “Show me you’re ID card. It’s late already because of a gang war near Madurai. Caste and religion turn people into unimaginable morons.” he said and checked my ID as it was booked online.

I did the required. When do we learn to be broad-minded? I thought about the gang fight near Madurai; as I placed my baggage at the top I found my seat near the window. It was 13, the seat number. An old man wheezing hard was near me. He was fast asleep like most of the others. He looked like he had been deprived of proper care for the past ten years. His wallet which looked as old as he was fell from his pocket to the side of his seat. I left the wallet in its place and got accustomed to the seat to drive its position to get a sound sleep. I saw the passengers at my back, one or two tuning songs in their smart phones the rest were all hovering between sleep and messages from their dear ones.

I switched my mind to lodge in peace and slowly my eyes contracted firmly. The bus moved roughly on the Indian roads that suffered from rain and improper maintenance. Once in a while the lights of the toll booths illuminated over my face. Half an hour and sleep preoccupied my senses madly.

When the subconscious mind was attaining its pleasure, soft hands touched my shoulder later during that night. I mechanized my eyes to open up, to find out what the old man wanted. I looked at the watch to see that it was nearing four. The bus was halting in the midst of a road shielded on either side with dark. I turned left towards him to ask of how he could be helped.

The sight of what I saw pierced my heart in horror. He was not there; his purse was lying in the same place. I looked back. No one was around. Again when I looked near, I froze.

She was piercing her own tattoo on her hand with a sharp metal, which I couldn't guess what it was. The deadly sight plucked my soul within. I was afraid to look. Who was she?

“Why did you do that?” she questioned me. Blood was per-fusing on her thighs. Half-dead, I picked my courage to initiate a conversation.

As she constantly kept asking the same question, she slashed the metal deep into her nerves. She made it a loop.

“Who are you? Where is the old man near me? What happened to the co-passengers?”I lined up my questions randomly that came to my mind. The purse soaked itself in blood.

“Is that very much of your concern?”

“It is and it should” I said.

She limped down and laughed wildly. Her name was perceptible on her hands on which she was piercing the metal. The blood covered the tattoo, but the name was evident. I wanted it to be a dream, realizing that it wasn't.

“Sins are meant to be rewritten positively” She shouted. I dint get what she said. Her voice was dominating.

“Sin? Shit.” She was in her sixties, had a perfect structure and looked younger for her age. The swell in her skin and color tone of her body seemed paranormal.

“So you’re the perfect men. Is that what you mean?”

She wiped the blood that dropped down her eyes. Her look was intimidating my nervousness.

“That tattoo, is that your name?”

“It is and it should”

I was angry. Suddenly she held my hands with impact. I couldn't refuse. She dragged me down the bus. I was in no mood to appear in tomorrow’s papers as a death victim to a ghostly activity. So I followed her, with thoughts profusely fighting within my mind.

All the people have disappeared. The conductor laid there dead.

“What is happening to me?” I asked myself with resentment.

“Let’s go. You need to know who you are.”

Even souls hinder the daily livelihood of people, I thought. The irony of life always throws surprises at us. This time the surprise was huge enough to kill me. I was the last one to be killed.

“Death is deadly. You should understand this. Every life has a value and I am going to take yours to balance the living cycle” her resonance in voice vibrated inside me.

We came down the bus. The bus was standing near a bridge. The flowing waters sounded loudly and the silence was giving a deadly synchronization to the situation. She caught my hand; the blood from her hands flowed over mine. It was ugly.

She made me ascend on the walls of the bridge facing the waters. My guess was absolutely wrong. She too climbed the walls.

“Things are going to be alright” she said. Contrary to what her lips uttered, she withheld my hands and jumped. Death was in its way.

As the waters took us inside, I began to lose my consciousness. The last few seconds that I managed to hold, portrayed many visuals that seemed delicate and impractical. The line of demarcation that stood between what I visualized and the outside world seemed of no connect and my mind cataloged the happenings of the last few seconds.

Gradually the colorless nature of the water initiated to change and I was swimming to death in a pool of blood. There was blood everywhere. I was searching for the women, who brought me here. Everything seemed to be an abstract of everyday living. As it pulled me inside, my legs touched against soft skin. I swiftly turned against the force of the water and pushed my head forward. I saw animals that were jeering in pain. I saw people mourning for their beloved. Caste prone people were fighting among-st themselves.

Guys were molesting girls. Different things appeared as I progressed through the last second. My last conscious second was felt. Before my eyes could close, the sight of something locked my breath. There were little dolls around. I realized that they were infants. It was becoming tedious to count the number of babies. None of their eyes were open. They dint see me. I saw one such child close to my sight, when I closed my eyes forever. The cells of my body were settling down. They were merging with death. As I was literally losing myself, a mammoth sound of a tap against metal was felt at the side. The vibration through which I was going made me agitated. My hands felt some leather. It was the purse of the old man.  Fighting with faith, I opened my eyes with heaps of difficulty. I saw the old man sleeping. It was a dream. I looked around if I could find the old woman who preoccupied my senses. She was nowhere. I came back to life.

In a quick reflex, unknowingly I pushed the wallet to the bottom. Picking it up, I opened the purse to keep the change that spilled. What I saw gave me the second dreadful surprise for that day.

Shakhty, the woman with the tattoo was smiling at me. She was his wife. Possibly she should have died before years I presumed.

I took my mobile. It showed four thirty. I unlocked the keypad and dialed the number. The ring was heard so loud in my heart.

“Hello” I said.

“Aren't u asleep Akshay?” my wives voice came to my savior. She was sad.

“Let’s have the child Aiysha”

“Uhh? What? My wife was shocked. I wanted to get established before having the child. My wife considered having the child instead of killing it.

“You mean so much to me. Let’s not abort our first child. Our world would also include our child’s presence. ” I said. Her voice resonated in unimaginable happiness. 

Not only religion and caste make people narrow minded; sometimes education too does sarcastically.

Her smile was enough to interpret how happy she was.

“Love you” she said.

As I imagined about my little, I cut her call and slept.