B for...Bravery

It was not easy for her, no at all usual. Girls don’t answer back on face, that’s what she was brought upon. Girls are not meant to stand tall and look into the eyes, that’s what she was taught since beginning. But whenever those boys tailed around her, passing ugly comments shamelessly, she used to forget all those lessons that her parents had knotted inside her mind. She used to go blank out of rage momentarily. But never reply back. She would cry every night, muffling her face in the pillow. How long would this go on? How many more years? How many more girls will be dragged naked? How many lives will be spoiled in the circle of pain, regret and revenge? Lots of question, no answer.

But today every boundary was crushed. As usual she was going for her college when one boy had gripped a corner of her dupatta while she was crossing the road. In a flicker of anger, she turned around and her hand flung in air, landed in a tight slap on the boys face. Everything froze around her.

She stood firm there, reaching to his eyes with hers.

“Don’t you dare.” She repeated tight lipped. “Don’t you dare to ever come before or else..”

“Aaaee.. you girl..you don’t know what we are...” One of the boy from the group came speedily towards but stopped when her burning eyes turned to him.

“What are you? Who are you? What will you do? Will you kidnap me? Will you rape me? Will you burn me with acid? Will you sell my flesh? You dirty spineless from gutter. Have you ever seen yourself? Even you mother is ashamed that she fed you on her breast. What else can you do? What else? Show me.” She stepped forward, not moving her forceful glare. “Come. Show me what you got.”

Drops of sweat had started to dot on the boy’s face. She laughed hard and loud as if it was a manifestation to everyone.

“You can’t do anything. You are those limbless poor creature rolling over dirt. Go home.” She spitted on ground and turned back, walking in the way she was two minutes back.

For the first minute in her life she felt secured, she had felt protected. She didn’t want anyone else then. More than anyone’s protect she needed her self confidence. A little bravery was all needed. She wished she done this before. It came late, but she was happy that it came. Bravery.

Source

Authority

He ambled through the crowded road that was chained around the lake side. Worn out shoulders returning from office in hope of some relaxation lingered  the road as if a glimpse of simmering lake will bark out the tiredness from them. Couples roamed around, hands in hands whispering each other in ears and laughing a heartfelt laughter. But all these felt weightless before the storm churning inside him. He clenched his stomach, hard to restrain the emptiness that was growing powerful each moment. But he would have to wait some hours till it is dinner time. Though he is not at all remorseful for giving away his lunch to the new kid. After all she looked wean and was new to their orphanage. Not so adapted to the deficiency of dire need. But there was something more unsettling going inside him. A question kept hunting him from past few days. A bewilderment that no one had solution to. Who does he belong to?

Long, strenuous voice came floating in the breeze from the mosque on the far left of road. A moment later earthshaking, heaven-shattering chimes of bell and clinkering of divine brass thin-cups resonated the environment. Some people hurried in and some people started to close their eyes and murmuring something under breath. The orphanage head had told her it is what called as praying. Praying means one remembers their destined God and sings sacred hymns for the Highness. But who is there for him? His orphanage was operated by a missionary where they devoted a lanky man nailed to a large cross on the wall. They called him as Jesus Christ. And they also devoted another kind lady in veil who they referred as Mother Mary. He has been to there often. Every Sunday people visit there with their family. He loved to watch them coming in small group and gather around. But if it’s the prayers then he prefers to sit somewhere nearby the mosque and hear their long prayers. And he loved the whipping smell of myrrh burning in the temple and also the whirring sound of bells. He has been to both of the places. No one blocked his path; no one told him stay back. No one said he belongs to there. Then where does he belong to? Who takes his authority?