Character sketch -day 1( Word Count: 586 )

A note about the entries under character challenge:- 


These entries are written for "The Character Sketch Challenge". This means for next 20 days, you will come to know Trisha Malhotra and Ishaan Verma through the eyes of the musical prompts, provided to me. So, welcome to the world of Trisha and Ishaan.


P.S.- Trisha Malhotra and Ishaan Verma are the fictitious characters whose stories are yet to be discovered.

Word Count: 594

Dear Apu

You must be wondering why I am writing this mail when I can call you. And don't worry, I remember it's  morning in India. But as usual, it is important for me to channelize the storm brewing inside me. And obviously, this way you won't interrupt me in between. So here I am, trying to share confidences.

Tomorrow is supposed to be a big day for me- my first day for work in Slaughter Creek. I should be excited for the new responsibilities. I should be terrified for my adventures of being in Wales for the first time. I should be thrilled to visit a place like Slaughter Creek. I should be worried about saying hello in Welsh. But, no. I would be defying my name if I started behaving normally. And also I promised you to let me know what I am thinking before going to sleep. So, with sleep miles away from  me, I am writing to you.

Let me confess something first. My fiancée has not yet left me. He still haunts me in my dreams. I have left my country, my family and you behind to start over again but he followed me in my dreams here as well. As if his insults back home were not enough, I just woke up feeling the sting of his slap on my face again. The pain and confusion of betrayal again assaulted me. It was the same dream. We were standing in the party and he was droning on as usual about how incapable I was for him. And suddenly he got angry for not looking as pretty as his cousin and slapped me. He would have punched me also but I woke. At least, now I was able to protect myself. 

But I still did not cry. I was hoping, may be this time tears will wash away that memory. May be this time I will be able to shout and rage. But no, my eyes were still dry and those screams were still lodged in my throat. I still stood their like a zombie.

What a pitiful creature I have become! I have lost my identity, my confidence for that slime. I tried so much, Apu. And now I wonder will I find someone again? I might have lacked the good fortune of having been loved  greatly, but does that mean I would be doomed to be undesired and unwanted, forever.

That is the actual reason I am here at Slaughter Creek for. I crossed oceans to come to this place which no one has heard of. Once I discovered myself in Paris. Here, I want to rediscover that Trisha who has been lost somewhere- Trisha who used to laugh at every small thing, Trisha who never cared for world's opinion and Trisha who would no have her fiancée take advantage of her. I want to find her again.

And I want to be freed of these wretched dreams! I don' know how to absolve myself of this termite of hatred. He might have treated me like his slave but now, I am here. I do not want that pain to cloud my future.  May be I should consult a doctor, a shrink, to take some counseling. Or may be I should let you kick my butt after reading this utter nonsense. But, I know you are my best friend. You will still love me.

Now I should go off to sleep. Dream or no dream, I have work to start. So good night.

Love

Trisha

An Evening Walk

I picked up my daughter from a daycare. I was tired from the work but satisfied. I had been working on a consulting project for past two months - drowning in the influx and outflux of files. And my hard work had finally paid off. Caught up in the web of project, I had not given sufficient time to my six year old daughter, Rose . Today , I had decided to devote the whole evening to her. But destiny had some other plans for me. Due to some construction work going on, we had to deboard earlier and walk some distance. It was a beautiful, sunny day. But I was still grudging.

I asked Rose, “So, how was your day at school?”

Rose answered haltingly, “ We played a game. Teacher asked all of us what do we want to become when we grow up?”

“So what did you reply? “ I was hoping that she would say architecture, though somewhere I knew she liked being a film star better.

“I told my teacher I wanted be a child when I grow up.”

I was confused. A child? “Not a lawyer, architecture or a film star.” I tried to understand her reasoning.

“No mom. I just want to be a child when I grow up. . .

Because if I become someone else, I would not be able to laugh and stay natural like me. I would have to work day and night. And if I get time on holiday I would have to spend it on either phone or laptop.

There would be no time for my Dolls and Teddy's...

no time for my small Kitchen and Home Set decorations...

no time for my swings at children's park and catching butterfly or birds ...

And I would forget to notice beautiful things also. So, I would like to become a child when I grow up so that I should continue playing with mud in the park and with water in the bathroom. That ways can be grown up and happy as well”, she stubbornly insisted.

I was speechless, I was wondering if I talking to my six years old daughter? What made her so mature? Do I lost my innocent connection with my daughter?And when did me and my husband lost our happiness and laugh? I tried to remember the last time when we had gone for a family walk. I couldn’t remember. Probably, somewhere in the past we had grown old.

Rose’s words and her innocence brought me back to earth, “So, Mom, are you spending the whole day with me? Are we going to park now? What are the plans.”

I lifted my daughter, grabbed her in my arms and kissed her forehead “I guess we are going straight to park for an evening walk…and on coming weekend we shall go for a theme park with daddy! 

The Wailing Sirens

The Wailing Sirens

I wake up muttering "Forgive me! Forgive me!" It was another nightmare. The shrill wail of sirens is beating at my eardrums. My wife Sonali, offers me water; frowning over my restless sleep. I know that she is worried. This has become a ritual since that hated day. But I can't offer her any explanations. She asks, "Are you okay?" 

How can I be alright when my conscience is haunted by these sirens? They follow me everywhere. 

But to her I say, “I just need some fresh air to remove the cobwebs of the school from my mind. I am going on terrace."  I move out of the room. May be I will get peace in the arms of serene winter night. May be the stars can conquer these sirens.

It all started with the school tour to Shimla, Queen of Hills. Ayesha, my daughter wanted to go to school tour of Shimla to watch the snowfall. That day, she had cried herself to sleep. My jewel, my princess was in tears and I was helpless. How can a teacher who earned Rs 8000 per month give Rs 5000 for a school tour? The school fees, the household expenses, other educational expenditure for Ayesha- all were already burning a hole in my pocket and now this tour? I had promised myself to give her the best of everything. I have failed and that too miserably. 

But then the opportunity itself knocked on my door. Sushil was an intelligent student but he met with an accident on the way to his exam. Because of that he was late by one hour for the examination. His father offered to pay me Rs 10,000 if I let him complete three hours for the examination. I knew he deserved a chance and it was nothing wrong; just a small concession for an intelligent student and my daughter's dreams. I accepted the offer. In a single stroke I was gifted with my daughter’s happiness and credit for the success of a deserving candidate. 

But what I forgot that the claws of the evil are poisonous. That poison can sneak its way in one's mind and heart with a single contact. Another hindrance and I was fully in the clutches the evil. The hindrance came in the form of my wife's accident. Sonali met with an accident while walking. Her foot twisted badly. The doctor informed that her ligaments were damaged and she needed an operation. Cost of operation was Rs 30,000. I was dismayed. I took the loan of 30,000 from one of my friends but I still needed to pay them back. In desperation I decided to take the path which I had avoided until now. Like other teachers, I started accepting commission from the weaker students to pass them. Once the process started, I was unable to say no other weaker students. Slowly the money started trickling in. We were not rich by any standard but we were far off from the grasp of poverty. It continued for one year. 

Then Ayesha decided to join MBBS coaching. She wanted to give medical entrance next year. I was shell shocked after hearing the fees of the coaching. Even with the extra income, I was not in any position to afford the fees.  But accepting the defeat would have meant letting Ayesha's dream wither away. Then Mr Bansal introduced me to “Other” ways of earning money. I can charge the richer students to give them higher marks. I argued with him that it was unprincipled. It would affect the morale of the hard-working students. But I understood principles do not have power to fulfill the dreams. It was a tough fight between the principles and Ayesha's dreams. But in the end, my principles submitted themselves to the dreams.

I started charging students to increase their marks. I was able to pay Ayesha’s fees.

After one term only, a girl named Sanjana, came to me in tears. She accused me of my crime and told me that she would complain to the school Principal. If required, she will go to police. I tried to explain her that I will help her but she was not ready to budge from her decision.  

My career was going to go to pieces before my own eyes. I knew nobody would understand my motives or my actions. Destitution of Sonali and Ayesha marred my good sense. Without another thought, I decided to stop her.  I picked up the projector and hit her head with it.  It started bleeding. There was blood everywhere. I called the Principal and told everyone that she had taken a fall and hit herself on the projector. Nobody doubted me. I was a teacher, a builder of student’s career. How can anyone doubt me?

She was taken to hospital but I knew it was a futile attempt. I had made sure of that. She died of excessive bleeding.

My career was saved. But I murdered my peace along with Sanjana. It has been two months now and I can still see her blood on my hands. The mirror reflects her image instead of mine. I have made several anonymous calls to police station but my courage fails me every time.  

And the sirens, they are my cross to bear, my companion, my only hope of redemption, my biggest fear- the sirens of the police van.