Bandhan Park had been there on Furlow Street for the last sixty years. With two entrances at the front and a small one at the back, it saw a throng of people ranging from kindergartens to octogenarians day in and day out.
Ever since marriage, it had become my go-to, apart from the one in our locality, of course.
If I was happy, you'd find me at Bandhan Park, if I was miserable you'd find me at Bandhan Park and if I was beyond frustrated you'd find me at Bandhan Park; the latter, unfortunately, happened to be the case today.
As I jetted past waddling toddlers and hobbling elders, a thousand questions swarmed within my mind.
There's something with him, it seemed almost abnormal. Didn't it?
How many women are there? A single one or does he bang them in hordes?
The more I procrastinated, the faster I spurted with a full stretch of limbs, breath fighting near my mouth- gushing like a stream. Hah..hah..hah.
Adrenaline pumped its way through, a sense of exhilaration rode over the tide of anxiety that was slowly building up.
Wiggling branches scurried into the distance, the ground hazed as I evaded small pebbles, dodging middle-aged women lazing by- their protruding rears twitching with awkward movements. My figure zoomed beyond the usual buzz of people, crushing small insects that came out of their holes to have a glimpse of the fiery morning sun. Focussing on that single banyan tree at the far end, towards the periphery where I usually rested, I sprinted quicker, all the while anticipating the relief of its cool shade.
The only thing that stood between me and my meagre chance at peace was Siddhartha and the enigma that he was.
A fat layer of sweat had now settled on the nape of my neck, hot air bit into my lungs. But, the quizzing continued, bugging without a break.
Would this new plan hatch results? It had to, there wasn't another way.
Am I being too invasive?
No, definitely not. Remember the blows you incurred, he's cheating.
Yes! It aches and bleeds.
Hah..hah...hah..The wind had picked up speed, my calves burnt and eyes watered; the tears swished astride. I wasn't crying! I wouldn't, ever; it was just the piercing air. Don't twist the truth!
A few more leaps and I would make it-my brain deserved a repose. The raised bed around the tree luckily was empty. On the opposite end, a grandpa perused newspapers.
Oh no, two males were pacing towards the seat in sweatpants- a mighty grin on their faces. Merry or not, babbling was the last thing I wished to encounter. So much had happened since yesterday, what I witnessed reeled me to the very core.
So, I took a turn, encircling the over-ecstatic man-children. They were cracking jokes on some marital shit and spoke in animated gestures. Skipping past, I flopped on a secluded seat around the corner. The wrought iron bench rattled under pressure, its rusty edges thin and sharp. The idiots- a little younger than Siddhartha, eyed me with amusement, wondering if they were that much a plague to be avoided.
Yes, men are- I rolled my eyes.
Atop crows cawed. The awful din multiplied by a row of sharp whistles from the adjoining football field worked up a deafening cacophony. The noise buzzed, within my head they rioted; any chance of calmness faded into discord.
I closed my eyes, attempted to space out.
This wasn't the time to be jittery. If anything, nerves make your genius suffer; a clean mind and proper rationale help channelize one's approach.
YOU ARE READING
INNOCENCE LOST (Rewriting)
ChickLit"Forever, I had stayed silent, closed off, cut by the doldrums of family politics and societal pressures. Buried under biased judgements, I dwarfed to insignificant heights. But, inside the blaze fought to seize power-an inferno. Raging flames fuell...
