She sat on a bench in the school ground. In the past few days, she had witnessed horrors that no one of her age can think of.
It had been a pleasant day when she was appointed as the monitor of the class and the results were announced that she had topped her grade. She came home, delighted, told her mother whatever had happened and was eagerly waiting for her father to be home soon. Her grandma blessed her and tears dropped her eyes as she saw the happy face of her child.
It was late after dinner that night, that she opted to call her dad. Little did she know about the horrors, she was about to face, the scenes she was about to witness, that she would soon hate everyone around her.
It was two at night. Her mother woke her up.
‘Come with me,’ the mother said hastily. It was the first time in all these years that she saw her so infuriated to wake her up and ask her to go with her at this time of sky. She did not dare disobey her. She walked out with her quietly. Everything around was pitch black. She had to fool her eyes many times before walking forward with her mother. They walked down the isle of houses and passed a few grumbling dogs. She could now hear subdued voices of laughing men around the silence of their footsteps. They strode down the main road and crossed alleys before she could see a bright light. The light, surrounded by men and between them was standing a woman with a jar of juice, filling in the empty goblets. 'What is this place? Where are we? Who are these men and what are they doing so late into the night?’ many questions popped in her currently unnerved mind, but, she did not want to let them out as she knew, daunting answers await at the end of the conversation.
Everything after that, happened in a blur of moment and howls of wild men could be heard from behind. She was pulled by her mother and within a heartbeat, she was doubling up with her mother back home. She found it hard to catch her breath as they reached their destination; her heart was beating through the rib cage now.
Her mother closed the door and sat sobbing in the darkness. She had finally regained access to her speech and asked her mother for going there at this time; she asked about the place, the men sitting there, the only woman there; she asked about the whereabouts of her dad as well as simultaneously trying to calm her but her questions help it.
She shuddered as there was a knock at the door. It was her dad, but, instead of opening the door her mother bawled louder and the knock changed to banging and then everything happened so quickly that it took several minutes for her brain to register.
Everything was quite again, after a long quarrel. After her mother shouting him about being at the wanton's place. Wanton- a word she had never heard before, never known meaning. If only hadn’t heard that word or learnt meaning at a tender age!
Her mother accused him of being drunk and drooping around with men of his kind. She did not know what kind her mother was talking about but it surely was bad enough to offend her father. He broke in the house and started hitting her mother. It was the first time that so many things were happening on the same day. He kicked her and punched her on her face as he yelled insults and curses on her for taking such a small kid with her at a dreadful place like that.
The rhubarb stopped after a series of kicking and throwing.
Everything was still, still as the leaf in this windy winter evening. Everything was quiet, quiet as the sound of her screams in and cries in her mind. Everything was finished; she was broken, broken as the dried leaf that just fell from the tree. She wants to cry, she wants to let it all out, but, the tears are all dried up. She lost everything after that unfought battle between her dad and everyone else.
Her mother committed suicide after that incident, her grandma died of an heart attack a few months later and the dad, doesn’t even bother visiting the orphanage once.
How much can a girl of twelve take? Or rather how much more?
Why is it that the young one’s have to suffer between the ill works of the elders? Why is it that the elder one’s have to bear the pain of the younger one’s burden?
Why they resolve things by talking and understanding rather than proving themselves correct?
Why?