A New Tomorrow

She looks so calm and composed while others around her bustle like crazy, headless chickens, as if there’s nothing in the world that could possibly ruffle her feathers. A bubble of happiness, making everyone feel that there’s nothing happening in their world that cannot be solved, he thinks he knows everything there is to know about her from the very moment he set his eyes on her, but everything he thinks he knows is incorrect.

Chattering nineteen to the dozen, she raises her brows and stares into the distance, only for a moment, but the mask slips and he notices. Once again, like an old video cassette, flashes of his past start playing in front of him in reverse mode, and finally some things start making sense – as if suddenly the missing pieces of his jigsaw puzzle had unravelled themselves before him, and he actually knows now where those pieces fit.

In that moment, in her, he sees himself again, and only remembers the bygone days…What he was, who he wanted to be, and how passionate he had been about fulfilling his purpose. Unfortunately, life got in the way. He sat in silence, contemplating about all that had happened, moving within as diverse thoughts and ideas filled his head to the brim, probing through the good and bad memories of his life that was now coloured with each and every experience that he’d had.

He stares at her and realizes that she has gone back to wearing her mask. But he just cannot do that anymore. Nor will he let her do that anymore. And as he arrives at that decision, with her, his tomorrows begin. 

The Time-Turner

It was while cleaning her cupboard, one evening, that she found the old silver-band watch which she thought she had misplaced a couple of months ago. The glass was dusty, and the hands were not ticking. She laughed out loud at her discovery. She had not worn a watch in the last seven months. Somehow, it had not felt necessary.

What’s the point of finding the watch, she mused. It was more important for her to find time. These days she just did not have the time. She was busy at work, moving from one task to another at express speed. When she was home, she whiled away time by completing all the household chores, even things that could be put off for a later day. Her mother and close friends sometimes expressed concern and asked her to slow down, but she hadn’t paid much heed to their advice.

As she stared at the watch that she was dusting with a piece of cloth, she noticed yet another thing that was wrong with it. The date display still showed 10^th January, 2016 – that was almost seven months ago. What had she been doing seven months ago at this time? She remembered it so clearly, as if it had just happened the previous day…

Life had taken such a drastic turn in these seven months. Seven months ago, she’d have never anticipated her entire life revolving around work. She had always believed that work was something one had to do to ensure life could be lived with ease and comfort; now, work had become her life! If her existence could be equated with “living” that is. Was she happy? She cringed as she realized she could not answer this question honestly even to herself.

She knew it was time for change. She wasn’t one to live in denial for a long time. Her new journey had already begun, even though she was yet to take off. It wasn’t going to be easy for she was still muddling with the shadows of her past. However, the shadows did not cause her much distress. After all, there can be no shadow without light. They go wherever the light goes. They appear when the light appears. Somehow, this realization gave her a strange sort of comfort – it made her understand that she hadn’t completely plunged into the world of darkness. There was still a tiny ray of light – some hope – left for her.

She fastened the old watch to her wrist. The watch was old, the time was the same, but this journey would be a new one. With this time-turner, she had been gifted the opportunity of re-visiting the last few months of her life. Until she finished editing and re-writing the pages of her current life, time would have to remain at a stand-still. 

The Travellers

She was tired. No matter how hard she tried, he was everywhere. From the corner of signs, she could see him. Even though they kept telling her what to do next, she kept seeing him and nothing else. In the end, they just gave up. She wished they hadn’t. It was not like she was purposely ignoring their precious advice. They just did not get it.

He was her road. No matter where she was, and no matter where she wished to reach, he was the journey she would have to make in order to reach her destination. They kept telling her that many times the journey is the destination. So, did that make him her destination?

Sometimes, she tried changing her direction on the same path. She’d long realized that the path is not always a straight road, and, at times, it is easier to keep walking on the same path, exploring the different directions. But why was it that in each direction she only met him? Did he already know she was arriving? At some level, did he also believe that she was his path?

Once or twice, she stopped to wonder. Did he read her world in the same way as she read his? As he became a page-turner in her world, had she also become a bookmark in his? He still dwelled in her world, but was she also beginning to enter into the spaces between his stars? He read through the stories of light, and she read through those cracks, through which that light entered and shone.

Were they both travellers meant to keep stopping by in each other’s life? If that was indeed the case, did she have the courage or the will to wish herself and him a “Happy Journey” and meet one more time?

“On the map, it appears that I am going home. But the truth is that I’m only getting more and more lost,” he sighed.

“On the map, it seems that I’m already home. But the truth is that I’m lost with him on his road,” she realized.

Hogwarts in Kolkata!

This blogpost is an entry to the Blogging contest, a part of the book launch of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, in association with Kolkata Bloggers.

Mishti dozed off half-way through reading Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, an early present that she’d received just before her eleventh birthday. “This is so magical!” she sighed as her eyes drew to a close. “I wish I studied at Hogwarts.”

The next morning, she had to go for her dreaded Math tuition-classes. It was early and the usually crowded area of Chowringhee was yet to start bustling with activity. Realizing that she had a good twenty minutes to kill and with no desire to go early for class, Mishti entered a dilapidated antique-store whose door was open. No one was around. Mishti marvelled at some wonderfully-carved wooden tables. Suddenly she saw an ancient, ornate mirror lying in a corner. It had clawed feet, and a golden frame that was inscribed with the phrase,"Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi."

“What do you see in the mirror?” boomed a voice behind her.
Mishti jumped and saw a tall, thin, old man standing. He wore a purple Panjabi with dhuti.

When Mishti looked in the mirror, it was not her reflection she saw. “I see…” she hesitated.
“Go on,” encouraged the man.
“I see that I’ve received a letter stating that I’ve been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

The man’s face broke into a smile. “This mirror shows not the reality but your heart’s deepest desire. However, I have the power to make your wish come true!”
“How?” asked Mishti in wonder.
“My name is Abhi Dasgupta,” said the old man. “I studied at Hogwarts and was Headmaster there. These days, we seem to have a lot of promising witches and wizards from Kolkata, so we’re setting up a school of magic here. You are going to be one of its first pupils!” he informed her.

Mishti could not believe her ears. “You mean Harry Potter exists?” she exclaimed.
“Yes, my child,” Mr. Dasgupta chuckled. “He will be your Defence against the Dark Arts teacher.”

Mr. Dasgupta handed her a letter, and before Mishti could say another word, he was gone in the blink of an eye. Mishti forgot all about Math class and ran home to her parents. Her parents were Potter-fans too and could not believe what Mishti said to them. They read the letter and rushed to purchase the items Mishti’d need for school: books from Oxford Book-Store in Park Street; some fresh parchments from a shop in College Street, robes from Rahman’s Store in New Market; and who’d have known that the handicraft emporium at Dakshinapan even stocked wands and broom-sticks!

“I hope all this is real!” voiced Mishti. “I hope it’s not happening inside my head.”

“My dear child,” said her mother. “Even if it’s happening inside your head, why should it mean that it’s not real?”

Mishti went to bed that night feeling extremely excited. The next morning she woke up and saw the letter lying on her bed-side table. “It wasn’t a dream! I'm the Chosen One!” she jumped with joy.

Finally, the day came when Mishti, escorted by her parents, arrived at Sealdah Station and headed for the wall between Platforms 9 and 10. She was ready to board the train from Sealdah Platform 9¾ which would take her to the Hogwarts School in Kolkata. It was just the beginning of her journey, but she was sure it was going to be the most memorable experience of her life. 

City Lights

She woke up to a morning just like any other, and stared at the rays of the sun glinting through her expensive French windowpane. Everyone talked about the big city lights, but no one had told her about the darkness - when those lights go off, and the sun comes out.

In the big city, she kept stumbling upon people who were running as fast as she was in order to achieve something. In the race to the finish, she had lost many people, and had gained only a few. But, at the end of the day, she wondered if coming home to an empty apartment on the 26th floor had been worth the chase.

Her weekdays were always fast-paced, rushing throughout the day to complete work and then whiling away time with colleagues as evening turned to night. It seemed to her that weekends were reserved for the sole purpose of sitting down and pondering about life, in general.

She had been so busy chasing her dream that she had not looked back even once to contemplate or take a chance at love. She could not trace when that dream ended, and when she woke up to realize that the chase to glory had not been enough to fill her life with contentment? The philosophical books that she often delved in to find answers kept reiterating that happiness is a state of mind, but what was the essence of her life without people to share it with?

A walk down the beach always helped her clear her mind. She saw the young mother struggling to help her toddler build a sandcastle. She smiled at the two girls playing volleyball. There was an old couple sitting not far away. They were sitting down, holding hands, and watching the waves that arrived dancing on the shore. Their serene expressions made her realize the importance of relationships in her life. She realized that she needed to add another point to her chase.

Often the big city lights blurred her vision and drove her to go right to the core of her dreams. Next time, when those lights shut off, she decided to take a closer look at herself in the dark. Darkness was always an honest friend - it ruthlessly told her exactly what was missing in her life without any sugarcoat. It was time for her to start going after that for a while. The big city had appeared to be fun only when she had someone next to her, who saw her for what she was, and noticed things beyond the glitter and glamour - things that the shiny crowd failed to note.

It was now time. It was now time for her to find the knight in shining armour. She had not been designed to play the part of the distressed damsel who needs rescuing. Instead of waiting to be rescued by him for her happily ever after, she needed to wake up and find it herself.

Message In A Bottle

They sat at the sea-shore knowing that the time to bid farewell had arrived.
"Each time you leave me with more questions than answers," he complained.
"You, no more, sort things out for me," she retorted. "No longer do you iron out my doubts, fold neatly my dilemmas and no more do you leave me well-stocked on enough clarity to face life."
"You will need a housekeeper for that, my love," he teased her in reply. "Not me."

"Time flies when we are together," she pondered.
"I wonder if time flies," he replied, "Or if it is feelings which have flown?"
With a heavy heart she sighed, "What can I say? I know I have to let go of you as we depart to distant shores. I know a part of me aches when there seems no ache of parting in yours."
He simply smiled, "I have witnessed many more partings than you; yet in each parting, I experience an ache anew. If  you were to move from your head to your heart, you would feel it too."

She looked at him with tear-filled eyes and poured out all that she had stored in her heart, "There used to be a time when we would exchange messages in bottles made of sighs. I would float my feelings on a thought and you would catch and expand them on your island. Thus, we were tied across the waves of life...But these days, why do I feel as if we are caught up in separating tides?"
His voice remained calm as his eyes shifted in a thoughtful gaze, "Yes, there was a time when you floated your feelings of heart-felt desire. But these days, you have started building a ship to endure doubts within those very sighs. You guard the bottle of doubts, not allowing the contents to float away. There's only so much a bottle can hold - doubts or desires - choose one to drop away."
"Would you rather I allow my desires to find their own way?" she quizzed.
He replied, "How does one sail through life without a compass of security to show the way?"

She stayed silent, settled in her bottle. He stared silent, at the lap of the waves. In the absence of intent, the currents of life drifted them away to where stories without ends somehow find their place.

Breaking Free (Flash Fiction)

She had always been a hoarder. Her house was perpetually in a state of mess. Clothes that hadn't been worn for several years spilled themselves out every time someone braved an attempt to open the wardrobe doors.  Her purses were cluttered with used rail-passes, movie-tickets and her wallets still contained credit cards well past their expiry dates. She never discarded anything. Things that were of no value to people were memory imprints for her. She did not consider it junk. It was, for her, a treasure-chest of memories. She stared at the house. Everything was still in its place. Despite the disorder, she still knew where each object was. She never had trouble finding anything.

She sniffed the empty perfume-bottle on her dresser. It still had traces of the fragrance it had stored. She opened one of the drawers and found a broken pendant. It was possible to get the lock fixed but she knew she would never wear it again. It wasn't in her nature to wear an ornament symbolizing broken relationships. Neither could she bring herself to throw the locket away or gift it to somebody else. Suddenly her phone rang and distracted her thoughts. She glanced at the name on the screen. Her cheeks flushed red with anger and her eyes blinked rapidly to stop the tears from streaming. She took a deep breath and, mustering all her strength, answered the call. The conversation lasted more than fifteen minutes. Not once during the conversation did she give the caller any hint of her state of mind. She did not know how to tell people she was upset with them. She hung up and sat on her bed. Tears flooded her face and this time she let them flow. She was tired of this act. She could not play this part any longer.

She looked around one last time. She knew she was not coming back. Earlier, even for a week-long trip, she would pack two suitcases. This time she was leaving empty-handed. As she stepped out to lock the door, she heard her phone ringing inside. For a fleeting moment, she almost went back inside to answer the call but she stopped herself just in time. She could not allow herself to fall into the tempting trap once again. Leaving had never been easy for her especially when she knew she had unfinished business. Leaving without saying a good-bye was even more difficult. However, she had resolved to let go off all the things she feared losing. This was her first step in that direction; and like most first steps are, this was the hardest one to take.

She handed the key to the landlord. The path ahead wasn't simple. She did not know where she was headed. All she knew was that there would be no looking back. She could feel the rush of freedom trickling down her veins as she marched along this road of new adventures, finally, taking charge of her own life.

The Two Roads (Flash Fiction)

She was tired. Once again, she found herself standing at the cross-roads. The path that she had previously walked on had led her to a dead end. Dejected, morose, and extremely fatigued, she felt like screaming her lungs out. It was alright to scream. Her cries fell to deaf ears even when she screamed on top of her voice. No one seemed to be listening to what she really wanted to say.

How had she landed herself in this situation? She wondered about what had to be done next. Taking decisions had never been her strong point. It is never too late to return – people used to say. She had managed to retrace her steps and had landed at the intersection yet again. Once again, she had to make a choice. Which road should she take? Should she take a new path and see where it leads her? Perhaps, it would take her to those who valued her. At the same time, there was also the possibility that the new road could still lead her to old disappointments. Did she have it in her to handle another blow? She was not too sure.

On the other hand, she could go back to the old road that led to her old life. 

Fighting the same old battle on familiar ground seemed like a safer option. Perhaps, she should go back to those who might, someday, learn to value her. Perhaps, she was giving up too easily. Change was a long, painful process and she wasn’t even sure if she would get the returns from it that she desired. Perhaps, treading on a new path was a futile attempt at obtaining something that, probably, isn’t meant for her.

Who decides what is meant for you and what is not? A voice surfaced from inside. She did not know who owned this voice. It did not soothe her. It only added to her confusion. The time to ponder was up. It was now time to act. In front of her, lay two paths. One path led her to her old life; there were thorns on the way but she was aware of where those thorns were and she knew which areas to avoid and where to walk. It would ultimately lead her to where she had come from – a familiar life of hurt, despair, and monotony.   The other path demanded new actions and came with the hope of providing her a different life, perhaps, the life that she had always craved for. Yet, it was unfamiliar territory and she was completely clueless of the hurdles that were strewn her way.

She took a deep breath. There was a determined look in her eyes that pointed steadfastly at the two roads that lay ahead. She had made her choice. She lingered at the cross-road for some more time before, finally, walking ahead in the direction of her chosen path.

The Redemption (Flash Fiction)

She always looked like a picture of happiness. No matter how bad the day was going, she always had a radiant smile pasted on her face. With her incessant candid chatter, she always amused her colleagues and friends. You could have a dialogue with her on any topic under the sun. It did not matter that she was not interested in politics or current affairs. She could still weave a conversation with the inputs you gave her. She rambled about the weather; she discussed movies and books; she could lecture you on any topic pertaining to philosophy or the behavioural sciences. However, when it came to talking about her personal life, she always remained silent. So engrossed were people in catching up with her lively chatter that this significant aspect remained hidden from their view.

She was a strong woman. She treated the thoughts in her head in the same manner as she treated the bruises on her body – she concealed them successfully from the eyes of the world and grinned at her wonderful accomplishment. With time, the bruises increased. So did the intensity of the thoughts she swallowed. Suppressed thoughts, however, have a tendency to gestate; and over a period of time, they grow into something else. She got tired of paying the price. She started harbouring bitterness towards herself and for her victim position.  She tried in vain to mutate these thoughts into something beautiful. As she hid more and more, she found herself forgetting who she was and she was gradually getting lost.

A fire was raging inside her and she needed to do something to extinguish the hell that was burning her insides. She dug the blade on to her skin and watched it peeling off all vulnerabilities – of pain, of pleasure, of life, of death – with a broken smile on her face. She did not flinch and she did not scream. With each drop of blood that fell, she felt her tainted soul getting more and more purified.

They found her body the next day. Even her lifeless body exuded a portrait of serenity. Why wouldn’t it? She had successfully managed to escape the agony that had been eating her inside. Her soul, now repaired of its ugly marks of pain, had successfully renounced the physical body and was already on its way to a new and, hopefully, better destination.

The Star (Flash Fiction)

She was envied by all the other stars for she was the most radiant among them all. She met the glances of her admirers with a rather tired look in her eyes. Beaming at her fans while they smiled at her; hiding behind cloudy curtains when certain facets about her life she was not supposed to reveal; being a role-model and infusing a sense of hope and solace in the darkest hours of the night for the “commoners” –  as she called them - she was bored of it all. 

The mysterious life she led was not really as glamorous as others imagined it to be – being a goldfish in a bowl had its price. Every step she walked, every action she did was noticed and talked about. In order to keep up with the changing trends of the industry, she was always having make-overs. She no longer recognized herself in the mirror – she looked different after every few days. On most days, she got it right and shone brightly before the world. There were a few goof-ups on some occasions and she had to retire to the darkest corners of her private world so that no one had any means of reaching her. Life wasn’t perfect but at least she was a “somebody”. Even in her wildest dreams, she could not imagine herself trading this life for any other. She looked down at all those beneath her. She was indeed a wonderful actor for no one could guess the ugly feelings she masked behind that angelic face. They continued to write verses and sing songs in praise of her even though they had to put up with her tantrums. She never appreciated anything. 

Blinded was she, to such an extent, by her own beauty, that she failed to see the ominous future that lay ahead. She kept walking with her head held high and nose in the air, not realizing that the number of people looking up at her was soon starting to dwindle. She was oblivious of the new star that was starting to rise from the other end of the horizon. Everyone now flocked over to this new star and looked forward to seeing him reach greater heights. His gaudy charm brought her fall. It was too late even to repent. The world had moved on. She no longer needed to hide herself behind that silver veil because it no longer mattered what she did. She cried as she realized that for every moon that boasts about the radiance it exudes from another source, there is a blazing sun in the sky to overshadow its glory...

The Other Side (Flash Fiction)

He was quite groggy in the morning when he got up. Last night, the farewell-party had lasted too long. Although sleep-deprived, his spirits were high at the thought of the new job in a foreign country with the love of his life by his side. Life just could not get any better than this! He got into a taxi and headed for the airport. He did not know when he dozed off but he woke up to the sound of blaring horns. A crowd of people were gathered at a little distance away from him. He could also see an ambulance parked. He wondered how he had landed on the road. Without looking behind, he tried making his way through the crowd. They had surrounded a broken down taxi. The bonnet of the car was smashed and the bumpers were off. A taxi-driver lay dead on the ground. He recognized the driver – it was the same man who was driving him to the airport. He overheard the conversation of the people – there had been a terrible accident; both, the driver and passenger had died on the spot. He turned around to look at the passenger and was shocked to see his own body lying on the ground. He realized that the people could not see him, hear him or sense him. Surely this wasn’t real! He could not be dead!

As she waited for him at the airport, she could feel the butterflies in her stomach, fluttering around with excitement. The future that she had always anticipated was soon going to turn into reality. Her knight in shining armour, who had already swept her off her feet, was finally taking her away from home so that the two of them could begin a new chapter of life together. As the thought that she was leaving everything that she knew behind crossed her mind, her heart started feeling heavy. Letting go is never easy even if one knows for certain that a better life lies ahead…Giving up on things with which one is familiar is difficult, even if it causes one pain, because no fear is greater than the fear of the strange and the unknown. The idea of leaving behind her nagging parents that had initially seemed welcoming was now pricking her. What if the feeling of being alone appeared and started biting her? She quickly tried dismissing those thoughts. She knew that she wasn’t alone. He would always be there to hold her hand. A smile appeared on her face and her eyes lit up at the thought of him. Even if she was being invaded by feelings of emptiness and barrenness, his love would shower her, once again, with fulfillment and contentment.

His soul found her still at the airport. There was a crease of worry on her forehead and a frown on her face as she repeatedly dialled his number and found his phone not available. He wanted to speak to her but she could not hear the sound of his voice. He was a rain-cloud, held back behind the mountain of doom. She was a desert, aching for his touch, on just the other side…

Flutter (Flash Fiction)

She groaned as she stared at the heavy stack of paper-work that remained at her desk. It was still mid-afternoon and there were some more hours to kill before she could go home but she was very irritated. It was Valentine’s Day and none of her colleagues seemed to be in the mood for work. Most of them were taking off early and they were chirping to each other about their evening plans. 

She was single. She had been this way for as long as she could remember. She was yet to experience the chemical reaction called love.  

One by one, as her colleagues started to leave, her boss glanced at her. She was filing some documents.

“Don’t you want to go home?” he asked.
“I will but once I am done. Initially, I was dying to be indoors but when I thought of the soppy love-sick atmosphere that would greet me on my way back, I realized that I’d rather stay here,” she mused.
“Ah! A cynic, are we?” he grinned and left her to get on with her job.

She left her office and stood at the bus-stop. She put on her ear-phones and just when she was looking at her iPod menu to select a playlist, a voice greeted her from behind, “Hey! Your bus left just two minutes ago. You’ll probably have to wait for quite some time till another one stops by.”

She turned to look at him. She did not know who he was but she recognized him. He used to wait at the same bus-stop as her and she had often seen him in the evenings. However, she was surprised that he seemed to know the details of the bus she had to board.

“Don’t worry. I am not a stalker,” he laughed, as if he had read her thoughts.

She gave him a sheepish smile and pretended to be engrossed in listening to music. She was in no mood to strike a conversation with this stranger. As she closed her eyes, humming the lyrics of the song in her mind, he tapped her on the shoulder.

“Hey! Your bus is here,” he pointed. “You don’t want to miss it this time.”

She opened her eyes and looked up. Yes, there it was! She hopped on to the bus and got inside. The bus was unusually empty. She occupied the window-seat and stared at him. He caught her looking at him and smiled. 

“Thank you,” she mouthed, as the bus started to leave. He waved back at her. She kept staring at the bus-stop till it disappeared from sight. She suddenly felt good.

The old song faded into the background and now her ears were filled with the Beatles crooning, “All you need is love; all you need is love; all you need is love, love; love is all you need.” There was a smile on her face as her heart skipped a beat. Yes, love was in the air. 

Just Another Day (Flash Fiction)

She sat at the bar, sipping her usual Tequila Sunrise. It was her fourth drink. As the music screamed in her ears, lascivious lovers occupied the floor, dancing to the tunes of their passionate desires. Colourful lights glared at her as she refused to leave the darkest corners of her heart. They just blinked and watched her crawling further and further inside her numb soul.

He stood in a corner, frowning distastefully at the seemingly happy couples. The ashes of his cigarettes were scattered on the floor in the same manner as the invisible shattered pieces of his broken heart. Refusing to be seduced by the boisterous ambiance of the place, he decided to call it a night and head home.

His careless stride knocked her glass on his way out. His sullen face met her icy stare. Life was only taking a shot to open the closed doors.

"Watch where you're going, moron! You are not alone, you know?" she cried in disdain. He glanced at her dismayed face and couldn't help but give a vengeful smirk. "I believe you," he chuckled. "Perhaps, now,  I am not the only one."

She rolled her eyes as he walked away, unable to make sense of what he had just said. He glanced back one last time before leaving the pub. 

They were both staring at the broken piece of glass and his half-burned cigarette on the floor. She allowed a broken smile to appear on her face as he caught her gaze and, finally, left. As the song that was playing faded into the background, she closed her eyes and cursed under her breath. Tomorrow would just be the same day all over again. 

Broken (Flash Fiction)

Amrita’s son, Rohan, was soon going to turn five years old. 

“Mummy, can I please come with you and choose my birthday present?” begged Rohan.  Amrita agreed but only if he promised to choose one toy out of the many that were there in the store.

After he pinky-swore, she took him to the toy-store which was at the corner of the street. Rohan was delighted to see the various toys that were there on display, and he jumped up and down with excitement. Amrita reminded him once again that he could only pick one toy out of the lot so he should look around and choose wisely. Rohan scrambled around the whole store and finally came to his mother.
 “Mummy, I know what I want for my birthday!”
He dragged her to the shelf and Amrita was rather surprised to see where he was pointing. Rohan had not chosen any car, action figure or toy-train set. Instead, his finger was pointing at a big doll, wearing a pretty purple dress.
“Are you sure you want this, Rohan?” Amrita asked.
“Yes, Mummy, I want her! She even opens and shuts her eyes!” exclaimed Rohan.
Amrita looked at his earnest face and, without another word, she bought him the doll.

As they were waiting in the lobby for the elevator, Rohan ran into two of his friends. He was smiling and he beamed as he showed them his new precious possession.
“Oh my God, Rohan has got a doll!” his friends exclaimed. “Rohan is a girl! Rohan is a girl!” they chanted and teased him.
Rohan’s eyes immediately welled up with tears as he looked at his friends and then stared at his doll. As soon as he was home, Rohan burst into tears. Amrita tried comforting him but he was inconsolable. Amrita, then, decided to just let him be and she went inside the kitchen to prepare dinner. After a while, finding the house to be unusually quiet, she came out only to find that Rohan had cried himself to sleep and the new doll was lying on the floor – her head dislocated from the rest of her body.

Amrita sighed as she realized that once people are broken in a certain fashion, they can never be fixed. Unfortunately, no one had told her this while she was growing up, as she struggled to give up her boisterous ways to meet the expectations of her parents that their daughter could conduct herself in a lady-like manner. Even today, she was surprised each time she saw people in her life break one by one. The role of being the eldest son had broken the care-free nature of her husband and transformed him into becoming a short-tempered person, always burdened with responsibility. He did not even seem to have the faintest memory of the kind of person he once used to be. She had always worried about the day when Rohan’s turn would come, and today, her heart felt heavy as she realized that it had already happened, perhaps a little too soon. 

Freedom (Flash Fiction)

“She is stunning,” he thought as he looked at her intently. “Bright blue eyes, rosy cheeks, luscious lips…She could get anyone!” He remembered the large swarm of boys in his class who had had a crush on her. She wasn't a head turner but she was the cute girl next door with whom every guy wanted to be; and of all the men standing in line to be with her, she had chosen a brat like him to spend the rest of her life. She wanted his love, care and attention. He bestowed upon her insults, injuries and rebukes. Finally she could take it no more and decided to walk out of this loveless marriage. She wanted to be free. He granted her wish. He could see what he had done to her. Her rosy cheeks had become pale. Her luscious red lips were dry and her bright eyes had lost their luster.  In the spur of a moment, he raised the knife and dug the blade into her back. She gasped with her eyes wide open as she was released from her suffocated existence. He bent down to close her eyes. She had always believed in the best of everyone yet she had experienced the worst for herself. He had murdered her today but he had raped her dreams and her life long ago. Each day, a part of her was dying a tiny death. Today, he had ended it once and for all. He wiped a tear that was about to surface on his face. With a grim look, he dropped the knife. Without giving her another glance, he just walked away from the house, now, in search of his own freedom.