Walking past the quiescent streets, lost in thoughts I headed towards home. After a tiring day, nothing else soothes me like silence does. The streetlights blinked often, leaving the streets in desolation. With songs banging in my brain, I continued my journey. On the way I saw a lady, probably a beggar in late twenties.

Read Another Similar Story: Her Four Wales Cage

“Oh wait! Late twenties and a beggar!”
Except her tattered clothes, nothing made her look like a beggar. I went towards her and lend a hand of help. Surprisingly, she denied. She was numb, too reluctant to even utter a word. While I offered her a packet of biscuit (well, that was all I had for help), she turned sideways. It was only then I noticed her baby bump. I was shocked. Her appearance had too many stories to tell, but her tongue turned numb. I could see her eyes glitter, not with hope but with tears. 
“Do you need something? May be I could help!”, I asked her. 
“Could you get me a bottle of acid or a rat poison? These shopkeepers don’t let me in.”
I was taken aback by her words. I looked into her eyes, that were filled with grief. 
“How true did she sound while making such a demand!”, I wondered. 
“Why….do you need this?”
“You are compelling me to narrate my story!”, she hesitated.
“May be! But only if you help me with your story, I can help you.”
“Okay! Well, I’m pregnant. Moreover abandoned.”
“Abandoned! How?”
“They abandoned me and threw me on the streets to starve. You see, I won’t take their name. My boyfriend fulfilled his lust, and my family fulfilled society’s ideals. Both of them prioritised their respect and status. I begged for my own identity and pleaded for my baby’s life. But they abandoned me. So now, I don’t beg anymore. I want to starve and then fall in the hands of death. But you see, the world is so cruel. I wish the end is near.”
I was taken aback by her story. That tender heart has been through so much. I left from there without saying anything. I couldn’t heal her scars, so my words meant nothing.
On my way, I thought if I could really help her. If I could get her an acid bottle or rat poison. That pure soul, doesn’t deserve to be amidst such sinners. And that child, wasn’t meant to be here to face the harsh realities of world. May be I could get her a shelter and some food or make way for a NGO, but her scars were too deep to be healed. Her dreams were fragile like her tattered sheets, and her eyes dim like those streetlights. Maybe she could be happy in the other life. If not her presence than maybe her absence could help punish those sinners. Or maybe she could starve and die. 
On the way, I saw a general store. I don’t know what doomed upon me, I quickly ran and bought a bottle of rat poison. I traced the path back. But to my surprise, she was gone. I searched for her, but all in vain. Through the flickering streetlights I headed towards home. I left the bottle and the biscuits at the place where I met her.
“She shall choose anyone of them!”, I thought and continued my journey.

Read our poem on Love: How I Met You!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s