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Read this tragic short story of the night during Kaalboishakhi that will leave your heart-wrenched and senses alarmed.
Moyna’s eyes darted towards the window. Every time the wind swished, the panes rattled, sending shivers through her tiny frame. What had started as a cool breeze had gradually gained momentum, turning into a fiery storm. The rhythmic rat-a-tats on the Asbestos roof had turned into a steady battering, threatening to barge inside their modest hut.
“The season of Kaalboishakhi*,” Mother had warned. “Do NOT step out unless it’s urgent.” She sat back trying to sew her tattered dress. Tick-tock, tick-tock. The clock reminded her how late Mother was. Mother was forced to work. Else who will run the household…
Moti growled every time the lightning whipped across the sky. The wick in the hurricane* flickered. Suddenly, one of the windows banged, splitting into fragments, letting in a gust of air. The wick died out plunging them into darkness.
Thunder rumbled making Moyna tremble. Terrified, she jumped up, grabbed the torch bought at the village fair, gripped the umbrella and rushed out. Moti followed her suit. She…she has to reach Mother…
Trying hard to keep the umbrella from flying away, she noticed how the wind played with the dry leaves, rustling them and swirling them in circles before dropping them afar.
“Chant the Hanuman Chalisa* when scared,” Mother seemed to remind her from afar. The red flag atop the Bajrangbali Mandir* flapped in the wind. She couldn’t wait to escape the wrath of nature and seek refuge in her mother’s warmth. “Maa…Oh Maa…” She cried out. Moti whimpered.
The torch slipped from her hands and fell into the mud. It was difficult to find their way out. Moti led her on through the darkness and the rain. The streaks of lightning lit the way intermittently as they struggled through the dense undergrowth. The dog stopped abruptly and growled. She heard the hiss. One of those big snakes for sure. Undisturbed, it slithered away. Maa-go*! That was a close shave. Her teeth chattered as she tightened the shawl around her.
Thunder rumbled again. “Steer clear of the trees when the sky roars,” she remembered. Fastening her pace, she ran through the bamboo thickets, towards the field. Her tiny feet hit a rock and she stumbled. It must have cut her for she couldn’t lift her foot. The pain, coupled with the rain blinded her. Moti sniffed her, pulled her frock, urging her to move. Tears mixed with rain ran down her face. “Ma, Ma…where are you,” she whimpered. All she wanted was to sit by a warm, crackling fire, with Mother.
Suddenly the lighting crackled followed by a thunderous burst. The lone coconut tree in the field bore the brunt, as it went up in flames. Moti and Moyna stood in shock watching it fall on them.
The crash could be heard from afar.
The villagers say that every year when there is a Kaalboishakhi, Moyna and Moti can be heard crying out for mother.
The mother, insane with grief wanders around on these stormy nights frantically searching for them.
GLOSSARY
Kaalboishakhi: Nor’westers which occur in India and Bangladesh. Are often accompanied by rainfall and thunderstorms causing widespread damage.
Hurricane: An oil lamp with a wick dipped in kerosene. Mostly used in villages.
Hanuman Chalisa: A series of chant addressed to Lord Hanuman
Bajrangbali Mandir: A temple/shrine for Bajrangabali, also known as Lord Hanuman.
Maa-go: A popular cry in Bengali at times of pain and shock.
Sreemati Sen holds a Masters in Social Work from Visva Bharati, Shantiniketan. She is a Development Professional, specialised in Psychiatric care of Differently Abled Children. That hasn’t stopped her from exploring other fields. Years 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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