She was a torn garment, not worth mending.
After her husband crossed, his family cast her away to her old home.
Her parents cast her away to the backyard storeroom.
And now, the river had cast away her empty shell to the shore.
-Hindu widows, traditionally, give up all pleasures in life: good food, good clothes, music and human company. Often, they are dumped in widow homes and take up begging to survive. Not allowed to remarry, a lot of them choose to die instead.
“My mother’s kiss can cure all pain. I wonder why I don’t ask anymore.”
The pen shook in her hands and a part of her wished the court would reject the papers because of the garbled signatures. So far, she had assumed she did not care anymore but it seemed like she did.
He was wearing dark glasses indoors, she was sure, to hide the emotions in his eyes. If only he would stop her just once, she would relent.
But he took the pen and signed with shaking hands, setting both of them ‘free’.
“It’s alright, dear! The pain would end soon.” Hamish consoled Heera.
Heera was too ill to work… ever. People had suggested Hamish to sell him to a butcher and get some money to buy another Ox. But Hamish loved him as a brother. They had been together for nearly eleven years, transporting goods on their ox-drawn cart for a living.
Once Heera died, Hamish would have no one to pull his cart but he would think about that later. Right now, holding Heera’s head in his lap, he prayed for his pain to end. Only when Heera’s eyes went glassy, did Hamish allow his tears to fall.
-Dedicated to all who have loved and lost
He was just one sip away from freedom but his hands felt too heavy; they wouldn’t lift the bottle to his lips.
He stood there for a long time until the bottle slipped from his hands and he began to cry.
With a rock on my heart, I see you
Place the luggage out of your door,
Thoughtfully, coz I can’t carry it alone.
I wish you had let it stay inside
And given me a reason to
See you one more time.
But you put it out and
Closed that door
Forever.
The loneliness had become too much. Every one told him that he should move to a new city and start over again. He could, then, meet new people, and may be, even find love again…
He looked at his children: five and eight. Would they mind moving? Of course, they would! Their lives were here with their grandparents, their school and friends. He couldn’t uproot them at a whim!
He couldn’t hurt them, so he let the memories hurt him.
Short Stories | Fish-eye Perspective 