Anger and sadness were writ on her face. She was trying hard not to cry out aloud. Using her phone as a mirror, she could make out her disheveled hair and sunken eyes.
A movement not far from where she sat alerted her. She strained her neck. What she saw shamed her too. She made her way through the crowd, found what she was looking for and tapped a young man on the shoulder.
He was equally surprised to see her after eight years. She did not have that haughtiness which she had unfailingly displayed when walking away from their love citing his poor background.
She pulled him towards her and hugged him. Massive floods had ravaged her home and she was properly humbled. He had also lost what little he had. Destiny had brought them to the relief camp which was witness to a happy reunion amidst the gloom.
Last week, the state of Kerala in India witnessed the biggest floods in nearly a 100 years. Many parts of the state were isolated leaving hundreds dead and thousands homeless. Relief camps sprouted all over the state as people rallied together to overcome the crisis. This is a fictitious account of what may have happened at one such camp.
7-year-old Fidan writhed in pain as she was rushed to the Emergency Room at a hospital in the southern Syrian city of Deraa. An air raid had ravaged their locality and the cries of grief-stricken people were heard in the corridors of the hospital.
Hours later, Fidan’s parents, both of whom looked injured, noticed their daughter being wheeled out of the Emergency Room and into another restricted area. A nurse tried to pacify them.
A couple of days later, they were allowed to see Fidan. Her cherubic face was now filled with marks of a dastardly act.
A doctor suddenly appeared along with another person, carrying a case with them. They pulled out something, which her parents or Fidan couldn’t identify.
“We couldn’t save her legs. She would need prosthetic legs to walk again and we can fit these in a few months,” the doctor said kindly.
Fidan looked at the doctor and then her parents with an expression that bordered between incredulity and anguish. Outside, a fresh wave of attacks had begun.
The old man looked surprisingly at the letter. He hadn’t received one in more than 40 years. It was from England.
“Zamindar Sahib, hope you are old like me. I can hardly walk. Guess this is punishment for the sins inflicted on the farmers in your land. I feel sorry for what happened,” the letter said.
A dark cloud now lined the old man’s face. Tears rolled down his sunken cheeks as he thought about the cruel deeds he had done to appease the British officer responsible for his district. He had been paralyzed from the waist down for years now.
Zamindar – a feudal landlord
This is my third year of participating in the A-to-Z blogging challenge and like last year, I’m glad I could complete the challenge this year too. This post is written in response to the letter Z.
“No, not again,” said the shooter as he lost focus.
He lowered the gun, took a deep breath and took aim again.
“Just relax and finish this!” he motivated himself.
He focused and shot. But he missed for the second time in two weeks. A fiery reprimand awaited him.
His yawn had proved costly again.
This is my third year of participating in the A-to-Z blogging challenge and like last year, I hope to complete the challenge this year too. This post is written in response to the letter Y.
The court was silent. The judge was about to announce the verdict.
“Xie-he is acquitted of all charges. She is free to re-open her bed & breakfast business. The court also orders the defendants to defray the costs of Xia-he’s litigation. The court is dismissed.”
Xia-he was over the moon. She had triumphed over allegations that she was running a brothel in the guise of bed & breakfast business.
It was her moment of redemption in her adopted country.
This is my third year of participating in the A-to-Z blogging challenge and like last year, I hope to complete the challenge this year too. This post is written in response to the letter X.
The bustle on the street drew Kalpana’s attention. She saw a man being rushed into a car. Amidst the blood, she saw his bloody wrist and then his watch. She knew there couldn’t be another person with the same watch.
Her thoughts went to Vimal. They had been friends for a long time but had drifted apart, sadly.
A few minutes later, she received a call from their mutual friend Charu. Vimal had met with an accident.
Kalpana’s inner sense summoned her to break the ice with him. She felt inclined to listen and made a detour to the hospital.
This is my third year of participating in the A-to-Z blogging challenge and like last year, I hope to complete the challenge this year too. This post is written in response to the letter W.
They were poles apart. But he loved her very much. Whenever he looked at her, he used to marvel at the beauty with which she was created. He was jealous that many people could go near her, but not him.
She was oblivious of his love. It was natural because the distance between them was humongous. There was a way she could see him, but she probably didn’t know he existed.
Venus’ love remained unsaid. He was destined to watch Venice from his vantage point of 162 million miles away. She wouldn’t budge from her position at 45°26′15″N 12°20′9″E on Earth.
This is my third year of participating in the A-to-Z blogging challenge and like last year, I hope to complete the challenge this year too. This post is written in response to the letter V.