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Read S.L.O.W.L.Y 😛
*****
ZaYa Oneshot || Seven Times ||
She died seven times in her life.
Seven times she bounced back.
Seven times her hopes were crushed.
Seven times she glued them together.
The first time was when she was five.
Her dad had died of heart attack.
Looking back, she didn't particularly care, for there was her mamujan to bring her teddy bears.
Her mamujan filled the small void her small heart wished for.
Yet as she grew up, her heart panged a million times.
For she did not miss her abbu, she did not know him, she missed having a father.
She didn't know, but she died a little.
*****
The second time she died, she was seven.
This time it was her ammi.
She followed her father into that special place.
She too wished she could go too.
Far, far away.
But she couldn't.
Her sister was two years old.
*****
The third time was when all the doors closed.
Each one shut with a resonating bang that still echoed in her ears.
Each one shut with no hopes of opening again.
Each one shut when no one cared.
*****
The fourth was when she sold herself.
In hopes for giving her sister a better life.
She shifted from her homeplace to Mumbai.
She missed her home.
It felt right.
She felt secure.
Now, she felt naked living in a dingy place where the water leaked from the makeshift roof.
She sold herself in hopes of making a roof of bricks.
*****
Although she had sold herself, she lived with dignity.
That was a thing that no one could snatch away.
But someone found a way to.
She was raped.
She died again. A fifth time.
She was used to it by now.
She didn't bother to pick the pieces.
Because she knew she would be broken again.
And the pieces lay there, despondant, staring at her.
And like banana peels, no one even bothered to pick them up for her.
She was discarded.
*****
Sixth time was a real sucker punch to her guts.
For everyone she loved, and there weren't many, died.
Ayat did too, leaving her in a dingy place with a makeshift roof on her head that leaked.
She still hadn't managed to turn it into bricks.
*****
Seventh time.
Maybe that was the worst death.
For she had found someone who made her hope again.
For she met him who taught her to love herself again.
To love someone else again.
She had pondered why he loved her.
For she had nothing to give. She was barren.
He had smiled when she told him this, his soft, warm brown eyes twinkling.
He had cupped her face and kissed her brow and said nothing at that time.
Yet when she held his hand by his deathbed, the old dread returning again, someone was leaving again, he smiled at her and said-
"We both were raw, battered and bruised from the battles that circumstances created for us.
You were a string, cut so many times, yet you managed to knot yourself together again.
You said, you had nothing to give.
For me, you were everything. We just fit together perfectly like two misfits"
*****
Likes and comments and critisism are heartily appreciated.
I'll send out pms later :)
Buddy me for pms.
No updates till 13th.
-Sanika.
*****
ZaYa Oneshot || Seven Times ||
She died seven times in her life.
Seven times she bounced back.
Seven times her hopes were crushed.
Seven times she glued them together.
The first time was when she was five.
Her dad had died of heart attack.
Looking back, she didn't particularly care, for there was her mamujan to bring her teddy bears.
Her mamujan filled the small void her small heart wished for.
Yet as she grew up, her heart panged a million times.
For she did not miss her abbu, she did not know him, she missed having a father.
She didn't know, but she died a little.
*****
The second time she died, she was seven.
This time it was her ammi.
She followed her father into that special place.
She too wished she could go too.
Far, far away.
But she couldn't.
Her sister was two years old.
*****
The third time was when all the doors closed.
Each one shut with a resonating bang that still echoed in her ears.
Each one shut with no hopes of opening again.
Each one shut when no one cared.
*****
The fourth was when she sold herself.
In hopes for giving her sister a better life.
She shifted from her homeplace to Mumbai.
She missed her home.
It felt right.
She felt secure.
Now, she felt naked living in a dingy place where the water leaked from the makeshift roof.
She sold herself in hopes of making a roof of bricks.
*****
Although she had sold herself, she lived with dignity.
That was a thing that no one could snatch away.
But someone found a way to.
She was raped.
She died again. A fifth time.
She was used to it by now.
She didn't bother to pick the pieces.
Because she knew she would be broken again.
And the pieces lay there, despondant, staring at her.
And like banana peels, no one even bothered to pick them up for her.
She was discarded.
*****
Sixth time was a real sucker punch to her guts.
For everyone she loved, and there weren't many, died.
Ayat did too, leaving her in a dingy place with a makeshift roof on her head that leaked.
She still hadn't managed to turn it into bricks.
*****
Seventh time.
Maybe that was the worst death.
For she had found someone who made her hope again.
For she met him who taught her to love herself again.
To love someone else again.
She had pondered why he loved her.
For she had nothing to give. She was barren.
He had smiled when she told him this, his soft, warm brown eyes twinkling.
He had cupped her face and kissed her brow and said nothing at that time.
Yet when she held his hand by his deathbed, the old dread returning again, someone was leaving again, he smiled at her and said-
"We both were raw, battered and bruised from the battles that circumstances created for us.
You were a string, cut so many times, yet you managed to knot yourself together again.
You said, you had nothing to give.
For me, you were everything. We just fit together perfectly like two misfits"
*****
Likes and comments and critisism are heartily appreciated.
I'll send out pms later :)
Buddy me for pms.
No updates till 13th.
-Sanika.
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