Grudge and Pain

alone

She snapped out of her thoughts as the doors of the elevator opened. Her eyes couldn’t keep themselves from roaming around the corridor, looking for the familiar face. The place blared with an eerie silence. People were talking in hushed voices, some were weeping while their loved ones consoled them, hardly able to hold back their own tears. Looking at them the realization that she would be alone, dawned on her. It hit her so forcefully that for a few seconds it became impossible to walk any further.

It was then that her wandering gaze came to a halt. There she was, standing among many yet still distinguishable. Her demeanor negated the last memory she had of her and had held on to for so many years. It had steeled her resolve to never see her again. It had kept her anger alive. Now, as she stood there, staring at the woman who looked like a shadow of what her sister was, that memory evoked pain, pity and above all, regret.

Her mind went back to the night she had last seen her. She remembered her attempt to clutch her arm just so she would listen.

‘Please Rehana,’ she had pleaded, her eyes glittering with tears. ‘Please understand, I need to go.’

But she had merely shrugged her off and walked out of the room. After everything, how could she even think of going back? She couldn’t comprehend it and therefore, was sure it was a wrong decision.

She continued to stare in disbelief. That last memory came flooding back. She was extremely distressed then but that hadn’t made her look any less immaculate. There was a desperate resolve, visible, despite of her tears, in the way she collected her things and begged her to understand instead of giving in. This woman did not, in anyway, resemble the one she remembered. She wore a faded kurti that looked a decade old over baggy pajamas and a pair of worn out slippers. For someone who was extremely careful about her appearance, she looked really distasteful.

Tangled locks escaped the messy bun she had tied probably two days ago. The only makeup she wore was dried up tears and an expression of extreme helplessness. She had clearly given up. All her strength had left her.

She was never what you’d call beautiful but there was an aura around her that made it impossible for anyone to ignore her. Now, she was still noticeable but for her traumatized appearance. And there was no wonder why. Her only daughter, her first born, one of the few treasures she had left was losing the battle of life and she was dying along with her.

(Some background about this post in case you don’t understand what it’s about, and you definitely won’t because it’s so obscure: it’s an excerpt from the book that I’m planning to write and have already started working on. Do leave your feedback.)

Email: farwa.rants@gmail.com

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