fantasy...

He dialed the no with trembling fingers, wondering what to say. Would it be just like they had promised? Already dreaming of things unknown, he waited...

The line cackled to life…

He cleared his throat and squeaked…”ummm, you said you’d bring my wildest fantasy true…in this advertisement here…” regretting the words even as he said it.


Silence never felt so loud…

“You idiot, next time dial the right number!!!” came the outraged reply.

And that was the end of his fantasy…

****************************************
fiction inspired by the numerous crank calls/wrong numbers one gets...:)

writers prompt - fantasy

sunday scribblings - telephone

freedom without peace?

Prerna kept the telephone down, tears coursing down her face. She had just heard her little boy on the phone. She had heard the unspoken plea in his voice, begging her to come back.

Prerna leaned back against the wall, remembering her family.

“My dear child”, there’s nothing in the world I want more than to have you near me, believe me. But I have to do this, i HAVE to do this, for you, for your father and for me. Forgive me, Pawan… Someday, you may understand”

She hoped he could hear her and understand her, more importantly, forgive her

She walked slowly back to her one room flat where she would be alone, cooking her frugal meal and thinking of the warm house she had left behind. Was it just 15 days ago that she had left everything and come here? Was finding herself worth it?

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

Prerna had been planning this for quite some time now. She never knew when the idea had planted itself in her mind and when it had germinated into a goal. It grew steadily, watered by the daily episodes of rejection she faced. Fifteen years!!! fifteen years of giving her time to the family had taken its toll. She had lost herself among the myriad roles of daughter-in-law, wife, mother and friend.

"How easy it is to get deluded by all the social obligations these roles force us to play," she thought wryly. She had allowed herself to get carried away with the responsibilities of motherhood and home, waiting for that day when she would be free, to explore her dreams. Till the day she realized that she would never really be free. She was expected to fulfill all her roles responsibly but Viraj had clearly missed his duties. Living in a joint family had chaneged him. He was never there for the family. Taking care of the family business had made him a slave to time.

Everyone thought that her part-time art class was a way to spend free time, it was just a whim that could be indulged. No one realized that it meant an unrealized dream.

It must have been the time when she was showing her old albums to her class that this idea must have struck her. Her college photos where she had won the best artist award. The awe on her loyal 20 students, who were sent more by bored mothers, than to learn any serious art. Was it then that she knew what she had been missing? Or was it when she chanced upon the article which praised the quaint little painting village which had come up?

That’s when she made up her mind and broke the news to Viraj. Viraj, her husband looked at her sadly…”where did I go wrong? Why are you doing this to me? “

“You never went wrong. I am responsible for this. I let my dreams die. For once I’m asking for the right to be selfish. To do what I’ve always wanted to do. I’ve given you 15 yrs of my life …is this so much to ask for? That you look after our son for 6 mths and help me out?

He had raged ”Dreams? What dreams?!! Am I not slaving for the family too? How can you tell that you are not contented? You want to pursue art now? You have everything!! What more do you need?

Prerna replied sadly, “Would you believe my identity? You wouldn’t understand, Viraj” and left the room, leaving him puzzled and perplexed.

That evening, when the family sat down to dinner, she said, “There is an art school where I want to go. It has a residential program for 6 months. i’m planning to enroll

As expected when she broke the news, there were fireworks. They all tried to dissuade her, worrying about what people would say. But she had made up her mind. It was now or never.

Her parents-in-law were aghast. She knew they did not approve but she was beyond caring this time. Her parents too had tried to reason with her, her closest friends tried to dissuade her. She heard them out and just smiled. She gave no explanations because she knew no one would ever understand. She was doing it for herself and that was the very thing which troubled them.


*To be continued....

sunday scribblings prompt - family
writer's island - Identity

A daughter no more!

a story in response to the prompts on writers island , triumph and survivor.




Shaila took a minute to catch her breath and then continued her frenzied activity. There was so much to do…the food arrangements, the flowers had to be arranged, the gifts had to be sorted out. Everything had to be just perfect. It had to be; this was the most important moment of her life.

She looked at the couple at the couple on the *mandap, dressed simply yet radiating a wealth of happiness on their faces. Even from this far, she could see the glow on their faces. Her thoughts ran back to that fateful day when their world had fallen apart.
******************************************************************
It had never been a marriage worth talking about. The abuse had been tolerated because marriage was a security that she thought protected her. Then one day, he had walked out of their lives leaving them with a paper which declared her marriage null and void. The tears and the humiliation, the anger and remorse, these were feelings that had overwhelmed them again and again. The words exchanged between them had been bitter. It had been a terrible blow, to be flung aside like a dirty rag. They had spent days and nights consoling each other. The invisible finger of blame was always pointed towards them, by relatives and the so-called well-wishers. It was insinuated that she had been a source of embarrassment to ‘HIM’, that’s why he had left her.

She thought of the self denial they had gone through. It had taken ages to come out of it. That’s when they realized that they were not alone; they had each other and would weather this storm together and search for that rainbow.

They enrolled for classes together. It was fun in a way, though they always had this feeling of insecurity hanging over them. She remembered those nights spent drinking coffee and studying! Those were the nights where they also rubbed balm over each other’s pain. How could she not remember the pain of job hunting and the feeling of despair over each rejection? Sometimes she felt like giving it all up and running back to him, pleading to be taken back. Luckily her famous will power had always held her back. The first step to independence had been taken when they came to terms with it all. It had been tough, the days spent in the women’s hostel and trying to make ends meet, but the days of sacrifice had been worth it. They had finally triumphed! A job had been secured, meriting a small celebration among their newfound friends.

Her mother had been strong though she, Shaila, had seen her unshed tears. Together they had tried to make a new start. Slowly “HE’ no longer figured in their conversations and he faded away like a bad dream. They had realised the value of self esteem.

They were there for each other and that seemed to be enough…till the day, many years later, she noticed subtle changes. She noticed the presence of a new person in their conversations. Anmol crept in unnoticed but hovered around like an unseen presence.

*******************************************************************
She decided to do something about it. It had been funny when she thought about it, now. She had followed him everywhere, to his office, to his home. Her only aim was to see what kind of a person he was. How else would you know about him if you didn’t see him in his own surroundings? She now knew exactly where he went for his meals, who he spoke to, which barber he visited, that he played good cricket with the street kids and that he spent a day of his week reading to slum children.

One day, she had been wating outside his home when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to find Anmol. Sternly, he had asked “ma’am, why have you been following me? Should I report you for adam-teasing” and there was an inkling of a smile in those clear eyes. The ice had been broken then and she immediately felt a strange feeling of peace. Perhaps he was the one!

He had then taken her to the coffee shop. They had talked. After weeks of observing and analyzing, she had made up her mind. She had decided that the time had come for action. She would get them married. She had single-handedly opposed all the so-called friends who came immediately flocked around, like vultures gathering for the kill. In the name of social obligations, she listened to many arguments and snide remarks but she was firm. Where were these people when they had needed help?

If happiness was seven 'pheras' (the wedding vows) away, so be it. And that was how this day came into the picture! Fingers were pointed today too, when everyone realized what was happening. Shaila refused to be cowed down. She the daughter was giving away her mother in marriage, whether anyone approved of it or not. The marriage was attended by the few well-wishers they had, because nobody else believed that a divorcée deserved to live! These few friends, who had stood by them all through, made sure that she didn’t falter. Her mother had agreed reluctantly, scared of society but Shaila had been adamant. Anmol had been truly invaluable in this crucial phase. ************************************************************************
Her mother, Saritha, caught her eye and smiled, tentatively. Shaila smiled back reassuringly…Together, they were both survivors who had triumphed against the odds…
**************************************************************************
The characters in the above story are visualised in the indian context where it is the woman generally who faces the social stigma attached to a divorce.