Tuesday 27 March 2012

The Little Widow


       
        I wipe the wetness from her eyes. I bring it closer to examine it. She is crying. I don’t like it when she cries. She is crying because she is sad. Someone hurt Ma.
      She comes to me. She starts to remove my choli. The one Ram gave me. The one with the colour that resembles the pot in the rasoi…green, I think. It is my favourite.
      No Ma, please don’t.
She starts sobbing even louder at my protests. I stop. I can feel my brows scrunch in confusion. She is behaving strangely. She pulls me into her arms. She whispers.
You’re alone. You’re all alone.
      I don’t understand. Ma is with me. I am not alone.
      She pulls away. She starts to remove my choli. Again. This time I don’t protest. She removes my choli, and then my bangdi, and then my paayal.
She brings another choli. It’s white. I don’t like it. I don’t want to wear it. I tell her so. She gives me a sad smile. She ignores my request.
      She holds my hand. She takes me outside. There are people. Lots of people. People dressed in white. She takes me to the centre of the room.
      I am shocked.
      I see him. I know. I understand.
      Ram is taken. So are my colours.       

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