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Two nasty bruises were on her neck and one under her eye and they looked a day old. She sat on the sofa, slowly. Dev sat next to her, analyzing the bruise marks.
‘Mom, where’s my tiffin?’
‘It’s on the dining table. Can’t you check it yourself instead of shouting out aloud?’ Kavya screamed at her son. She was watching the morning news, with her morning tea.
Dev walked into the living room, from his bedroom. He hurriedly packed his tiffin into his school bag.
He looked at his mother, intently. Her shawl was wrapped around her upper body. Her lips were pressed in a straight line. It was clear that she wasn’t in mood to watch television. Today’s routine also seemed to be like a forced ritual, just like yesterday morning, Dev thought.
‘Amma, I am leaving. I have squash practice after school.’ Dev waved at her. She hardly glanced at him and muttered a feeble bye. The glare of the television fell on her big round spectacles, making it hard for him to read her face. The door slammed shut as he left the flat.
After five minutes, the doorbell rang. Kavya opened the door, after another two minutes.
‘What happened?’
‘It’s 40 degrees outside. I sweated in a second. Are you sick , amma? You are covered in shawl for two days. I can stay home, if you want.’
Kavya went into shock, for a second. Her hidden tears suddenly gave her away, the ones which she hastily wiped off, before opening the door. She nodded silently. She beckoned him, inside. After Dev came inside, she slowly removed her shawl.
‘Amma, you are sick. Leave it. We can go to…’ Dev’ s voice trailed off as he looked at his mother, clearly.
‘Appa?’ He only uttered tone word at her, half heartedly.
She nodded again, and avoided his gaze.
Deb’s fist clenched in silent anger. He sat still for a minute.
‘How long?’
‘Three months.’
He looked at her alarm. ‘ And you never said anything. So I wouldn’t worry?’
She just looked at him with her tired eyes. He was shocked to see her so exhausted and tired. She was his role model. And now she looked so feeble and broken from inside.
He stood up and went to get the phone.
‘No. Who are you calling?’
‘I am calling your sister. Amma, you might be comfortable discussing with another lady. Or not… But I am not going to keep quiet. And no, I won’t be frightened to ask him! Even if he lashes out at me. Not after this! This is ….not right !!’ Dev’s voice broke.
At this, Kavya got up and hugged him. He hugged her fiercely, silently vowing that he would never let his father, beat up her, again.
Editor’s note: This story had been shortlisted for the October 2017 Muse of the Month, but not among the top 5 winners.
Image source: pixabay
Artist. Writer. Thinker. Based in Delhi. Ponders on most things in the universe. Also ponders on my Instagram page, pocketdiaries_q . read more...
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UP Boards Topper Prachi Nigam was trolled on social media for her facial hair; our obsession with appearance is harsh on young minds.
Prachi Nigam’s photo has been doing the rounds on social media for the right reasons. Well, scratch that- I wish the above statement were true. This 15-year-old girl should ideally be revelling in her spectacular achievement of scoring a whopping 98.05% and topping her tenth-grade boards. But oddly enough, along with her marks, it’s something else that garners more attention – her facial hair.
While the trolls are driving themselves giddy by mocking this girl who hasn’t even completed her school yet, the ones who are taking her side are going one step ahead – they are sharing her photoshopped pictures, sans the facial hair, looking nothing less than a celebrity with captions saying – “Prachi Nigam, ten years later”.
Doctors have already diagnosed her with PCOD in their comments, based on photographic evidence. While we have names for people shamed for their weight – body shaming, for their skin colour- racism, for their age- age shaming, for being a female- sexism, this category of shaming where one faces criticism for their appearance has no name. With that, it also has zero shame attached to it.
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