Pink Butterfly

Thanks everyone who commented and all those who read. I know that these need a lot of refining, and for that I have to get your feedback. So pleeeease comment, and I dont need just praises, I need more of brickbats. So here is my second story, help yourself to bricks lying nearby and start aiming.

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I am in the video coach. The compartment which has a net between the “reserved for the ladies'” and the rest. Ladies are cutting vegetables for dinner or knitting woollens as usual. And on another day I might have been faintly pleased by the furtive glances of cute guys across the wire mesh. But that day is not today.

I sometimes can not believe the fact that just a few years ago, I was running around in frocks playing hopscotch. Can someone grow up so fast. From the carefree girl that I was into a mature adult. On the other hand will I look back two years later and think of me now as childish. I hope not. I have changed and it’s a bittersweet feeling. Sorrow for the lost innocence and but new hopes of a happy future. I remind myself to call the estate agent, to look for a smaller home. It’s Matunga already, have to get down at the next station. Most seem to brace themselves for getting down. Even aunties who had been sleeping all along wake up just like that and head for the door.

The crowd on the platform seems a lot thicker today. Lots of them have flowers and other puja stuff. Oh…now I realize, tomorrow is Ganpati. How could I have forgotten something like this. It will be more crowded outside, with its flower market. Jostling and pushing I somehow get outside. It is worse than I expected.

If I could just sell the concept to the client, it’ll all be worth it. I am hoping badly this whole thing falls in place. Why is this guy walking so closely behind me. I turn back and give him one of my stares. I get some more space. The road is strewn with roses and daffodils. It’s ironical walking on a carpet of roses like a queen with people pushing you around. What the fuck..why has the guy put his hand on my shoulder. Keep your hand away, I yell at him. He moves away quickly, out of reach. Fuck him, ..bastard, how dare he. If I catch hold of him I’ll give him the thrashing of his life. Do they have no respect for women. The motherfucker, I hope he rots in hell. And while I am And I feel his hands again on my back. Turning around, with all my energy I slap him across his face. Hey but who is this guy, he’s not the one. People around have noticed my slapping him and somebody grabs his collar. As I look around I see the real culprit rushing away. No way could I get him. Meanwhile people start beating him. He is all the while telling them to ask me, that he did not do anything. What should I do. That motherfucker, if I ever see him again I am gonna…

If I admit to slapping the wrong man, the bloodthirsty crowd will lynch me instead. The man was begging me, tell them it was not me. What should I do, what if they kill him. Would I be responsible. The people shouted,take him to the police. It was their chance to vent out their anger at their bosses, wives and the government. They won’t leave him so easily. I could not look him in the eyes.

I am in a hurry, do not have the time for all this FIR business. Anyway you people have beaten him enough. Let him go, I said. They hardly heard, beating the hell out of him. I slipped away silently.

God…please forgive me.

©2005, K.A.Anand “”

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