The rain tickled down the window panes. The blurred outlines of the trees were barely visible. And the horizon has disappeared completly.
She sat beside the window and observed each and every drop sliding down the glass and wondered,
‘Is nature in agony?’
Perhaps, the fury of nature was not because of its wrath but maybe it is of the helplessness of the constant pain of bearing with himanity.
She felt suffocated. Claustrophobic as they call it.
Every day, when she ventures out with a scarf tied around her neck which covered half of her face, the judgemental eyes never fail to observe. The whispers behind her back becomes quite audible when many of them chimes in together.
“Is this girl insane?”
“She is hiding something certainly!”
“Shall we call the police?”
“A complete lunatic!”
“A style bitch, I suppose.”
Every word they speak is a truth to them, yet she is the only person who knows how much fake this world can be. The guard she put up against them didn’t fail to protect her until one day.
The smoke was still rising from the ashtray, and the bed was all set.
She never had the courage to show her flaws to the world, but that day she finally decided to grow out of her insecurities.
She pulled down her dress and, exposing her scar on the neck.
It still felt as new as day one, as if the fire within has never stopped buring.
He was waiting for her under the covers, when she came out.
The dim light of the lamp made it impossible to read his expression, but she could feel his eyes upon her.
There was a constant fear creeping in her mind, yet she decide to give him all of her.
She sat on the edge of the bed and waited for him to make his first move. All she could hear was his constant breathing and ocassional sighs.
He grabbed her boobs and gentally pressed them. Then slowly and steadity his hands hovered on more inch of her skin until it went right over the scar. They stopped all of a sudden, and in a few seconds his hands were no more on her skin.
She gasped at the suddeness of his reaction but her mouth was unable to frame a word. She sat there puzzled.
“You didn’t tell me you had a scar?”
“I knew that you have already figured out the reason why I wear a scarf.”
“I thought its because of style!”
“Same as everyone.”
“How can you not?”
“What does it matter anyway?”
“A lot actually. You ain’t that beautiful as I thought.”
“So you only love me because of my beauty?”
“I thought we both are casual dating. I am tired of my previous relationship.”
“Do I look like a whore?”
“I didn’t mean to say that. But right now I cannot afford of having a relationship with you. ”
“Then its over then. The casual dating as you say it.”
He got up, and put on his clothes. And then without speaking a word he went out of the door.
She felt like an exception to the society. An outcast who will never be accepted. She felt cursed. A glimmer of hope was extinguished as soon as it started to ignite.
She closed her eyes and then a vision poped up in the blackness.
It was 11:30 pm at night. A lone girl was walking through the dark alley after an overtime at a nearby restaurant. She felt uneasy, to walk alone but there was no choice. Her steps were hurried but the high heels made it difficult to walk properly.
She was almost there, and every step took her towards her safety. In the distance, she could hear the roar of a royal enfield which made her heart race. The noise of the engine became more clearler and clearer with time as it was approaching closer and closer.
She kept her head low, and now she was almost running. But they royal enlifield went past her pretty quick, but she knew something was thrown at her face. Some kind of liquid which burned as soon as it made contact with her skin. The pain was excruciating but she was determined to reach her home. Slowly she started slipping out of consciousness and then, everything went black.
The thought made her shiver.
She had paid the price of cheap entertainment, imminet desires and above all, selfishness. The selfishness of the society.
No one stood for her. Not even the person, who gave her hope. Everyone wanted to be perfect. And after all,
‘Who will stand up for a girl with an ugly little scar on her neck?’