Skip to main content

The Queen



She said she was a queen … of luck and fortune. Sitting on a street of Guwahati she laughed hysterically at her ill luck and misfortune. She said she was a queen … of wealth and all the riches. And she laughed at her tattered clothes and the bowl in front of her with a few coins in it.

It was a fine October noon and we were on our mission of distributing clothes to the needy. After providing clothes and talking to seven or eight people living on the footpaths of Guwahati we finally met this mysterious woman sitting on the pavement near a Hanuman temple.

Unlike the others she wasn’t crying, nor was she grateful when we gave her a saree. All she did was laugh at the world that passed by and pretended to ignore her. And when we were about to leave considering her to be someone who would not talk at all, she made us stay spell-bound with her  words.

She told us how she was born in a well-to-do family but was made to beg on the streets, not by her parents, nor by the stratified society, not even by robbers or rapists, but by her own heart.
Eloping with a lover with a common dream of helping the needy she escaped the shackles of the society .. only to be bound by them later on.

A period of 12 months, she thought, should be dedicated to aiding the poor. Marriage, career and children came next.
Now 12 years from that very day has passed but she never could ever achieve her dream of building a career and marriage after a year of social service.
 She had fallen for the treachery of her unfaithful lover.
 “Rest you know”, she said.
With the demented beggars she now stays and this is how she pays. Being with them she helps them in their times of need. “Sad I am not. One of my dreams came true.” She concluded with an unrestrained smile.

And while people ignored her along with scornful looks, and while in spite of our claims of helping the needy, we could do nothing but leave, her voice still echoes in our heads and we return discerning the fact that she stilll is a queen… of love unconditional.


Comments

  1. damn touchy yet again!!..echoed our minds..

    ReplyDelete
  2. touching!!!!!


    http://sushmita-smile.blogspot.in/

    ReplyDelete
  3. Interesting incident... but there is something missing... the post seems incomplete... I suggest you re-read, re-write, and see if you can add whatever it is that is missing.

    Arvind Passey
    www.passey.info

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. thanx, sure.. edited the errors.. hope it's complete now. was supposed to write it within 300 words and hence the haste..

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Self-Help Book

He slicks his dark black hair back with his fingers. Outside, it was broad daylight, offering his dark brown eyes a view of the western part of the city. The neighboring tall buildings remind him he is on the 22nd floor of his workplace. He finishes off the remnants of his black coffee, already cold by now. The half-smoked cigarette burns out on the ashtray. He pulls the ropes of his French window and his cabin is no longer reminded of the world outside.
 He turns his swivel chair with the support of his desk to face a laptop in front of him that wastes no time in taking him to another world altogether. The white striped shirt he is wearing with his dark grey tie match the colors on the back of his laptop that flaunt the initials “S. R.”.
* An unexpected knock on her door wakes Sheena up from her siesta. She reaches for the yellow dupatta lying carelessly on the other side of the bed, as if it was equally tired from the previous day’s work. She wears the dupatta around her neck cove…

The Boy in the Train

"You'll always be late for the previous train, and always on time for the next.” 
― Piet Hein

I rejoice whenever I get a window seat on Indian trains whenever it’s a chair car (otherwise Upper Berth would be my spot), more so when it is the last seat near the door, usually marked 4. There’s always more legroom for those who get the last seat. The TTE (Train Ticket Examiner) sits in the same seat on the other column, marked 1, which feels quite safe for a single woman traveller. When I need to leave my seat for a short break, it’s the TT (in short for TTE) who would watch over my luggage. When I need to ask how delayed the train was, it was again the TT, my neighbour for the journey.
However, sitting near the TT comes with other experiences too apart from the sense of security. There would be travellers without a ticket, looking for a vacant seat, who would sit on the TT’s seat itself pretending it’s theirs and later being laughed at, when busted. There would be people coming t…

Atrocity in a Smart-City - Bhubaneswar

Related Post - Atrocity in a Metro City - Hyderabad
I haven’t had a decent cup of tea in a long time – the kind that refreshes you within seconds. Bhubaneswar has no dearth of tea stalls that do not shy in putting enough milk in the cup. However, the hot weather doesn’t allow one to drink as many cups of tea as one would have while living in Guwahati.
After the third cup of the day, I feel nauseas. And when tea isn’t there to sweep you off your worries, everything else starts bothering you.
When I first landed in the city last year in September I was impressed by how the cabs arrive just minutes after you’ve booked one, how the roads are free of potholes in the major parts of the city, how the highway helps me travel anywhere in twenty minutes even when I live a little outside of the main city.
Perceptions do not take long to change and I am now often reminded of the quote in Sanskrit that says दूरस्थाःपर्वताःरम्याः – the hills look lovely but only from a distance.For when you see t…