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There was a dainty figure sitting on a bench. A girl bundled in a black shawl. And then a shadow emerged from the darkness. He stopped, as he spotted the girl. He approached her, hovered around her.
It was a cold, foggy night, and a stunned silence stretched across the deserted railway station. The only working yellow light seemed like a blotch in the air. There was no hint of life except a black dog that just lumbered past as though it sniffed some danger.
No, wait! There was a dainty figure sitting on a bench. A girl bundled in a black shawl. And then a shadow emerged from the darkness. He stopped, as he spotted the girl. He approached her, hovered around her.
‘Hey!’ The man said and settled beside her.
‘Want to have some fun, huh?’
The girl looked up, clearly uncomfortable. She stirred and shifted a little.
‘What say? Let’s go somewhere? Maybe inside the train? Nobody will arrive until 4 in the morning. We have time.’ A lecherous smile played on his lips.
The girl got up and started walking with hasty steps. The man, relentless, followed her with long strides. He caught her in no time. Gripping her elbow, he muttered, ‘I’ll give you money if you want.’
‘No! Please let me go!’ The girl yelled.
‘Oh, come on!’ He pulled her elbow, and the girl’s dainty figure stumbled. Her shrill voice dissipated in the air.
He almost dragged her to the nearest isolated compartment and pushed her on a seat. The man began to unbutton his shirt urgently. His hands barely touched his belt when something shifted in the girl’s body.
The look in her eyes changed; ferocity replaced fear.
She levered herself up with a fluid motion. The man tried to push her again, but something unexpected left him dazed.
The girl clutched his throat. His eyes protruded as her grip tightened. He tried to remove her hands, but she pushed him on the hard floor with a powerful thrust.
After a few moments, the girl came out of the compartment, picked up her shawl lying on the platform, as the battered body of the man writhed and whimpered on the cold, hard floor of the train.
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Tarang Sinha is a Delhi based writer, translator and painter. She's the author of We Will Meet Again. She has translated a book titled 'Don't You Quit' published by Westland Books. Her articles 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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