Sunday, 8 April 2012

Not today. . .


"Name?"
"Suzanna."
"That's a beautiful name. Age?"
"Thank you. 25"
Father's name?"
There it was. This is why she preferred written questionnaires. Why she had ALWAYS preferred them. Cause well let's face it, it was easier to conceal those awkward pauses when she was on her own. Much MUCH easier in comparison to the present situation, where there was somebody hovering over her head, waiting for her response with baited breath. It made her extremely uncomfortable. And even though she knew exactly what she would say after another 10.6 seconds,this awkward silence was sort of mandatory. It had a become a habit, something ingrained in her psyche. She had filled in the same response in all the questionnaires, all the application forms, year after year. But each time  they asked her for her parents' name, she faced the dilemma of the prefix. It was a choice she had to make, a choice she would never have had to make, if it wasn't for that gruesome night of her tenth birthday. . .
It was a quiet affair. They had decided to not make a big deal out of their daughter's birthday this year since her grandmother had passed away just a week back. Little Sue was terribly upset, and had been throwing tantrums the entire day. She had even said a few nasty things to her mommy, things she didn't really mean. They broke mommy's heart, but she chose to keep quiet and keep little Sue as happy as possible. Ten was a big number, her little girl was growing up, and she didn't want to make the day worse for the apple of her eye. The world around her was in a state of utmost chaos, and the family lived in constant fear, in case they became the next victims of the riots. Sue, oblivious of the bigger picture,  had been sulking in the living room, when she heard the commotion in the hallway.
They had forced themselves in and had immediately overpowered her father. She heard someone screaming, and then realized the shrill sound was emitting from her own throat, as she watched them drag her wounded father into the living room. Mommy dropped the bowl of rice in the kitchen itself and rushed  into the room, only to be pinned down on the floor by a boy half her age. She had always maintained that the next 30 minutes were a blur, when people had interrogated her years later. But the truth was, she remembered each and every second of the ordeal. For they made sure she witnessed each and every bloody detail. They had butchered her loved ones in  front of her innocent eyes, while one of them covered her mouth with his rough and robust hands. But that wasn't necessary, for she wouldn't have screamed. She couldn't have. It was stuck in her throat, and it remained stuck in there for 30 whole minutes, after which she had collapsed. She still had nightmares at times, and those hands featured prominently in all of them.They always would.
The receptionist cleared his throat loudly. 10.6 seconds had elapsed, she still hadn't answered and he was getting impatient. What was she going to say? Would it be the same? Or would she choose to accept the truth finally and fill atleast ONE  application form correctly. Late? Or Mister? She would have to give in to the shattering truth one fine day, she would have to make it official by stating it in her documents. She would, but today just wasn't the day. . .
"Yeah, I'm sorry. Umm it's Mister. . . . "

This is a part of BluBlubling's Awesome April. Go check her fantastic Blog out! :)


33 comments:

  1. That was as far away from my present mood as possible. However,you're good nonetheless.

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  2. You write quite hitting posts at times, Chub.

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  3. Replies
    1. Is that a bad thing? :/

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    2. No its not. Very few things HIT these days. Rest just pass us by.

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    3. Oh! Thank you so much, really :)

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  4. Boy, O'boy. That was some heaviness, brother.

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    Replies
    1. Again, is that a bad thing? :/

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  5. Oh wow, that was hard-hitting.
    Great writing though.

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  6. I loved the emotions you described revolving around the pause. Bloody brilliant!

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  7. Lovely Narrative Style..Loved the clarity too.
    Great piece. Keep up the good work

    Anupam

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  8. The narration was mind-blowing. Absolutely brilliant.

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  9. It was very interesting for me to read that blog. Thanks the author for it. I like such topics and everything that is connected to them. I would like to read more soon.

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    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you so much :) Do drop by more often :)

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  10. @Author I am looking for a article writer and I think I have found one. You write pretty well and I would like to work with you. Please join me on Skype. My Skype ID: seomonkeyz

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  11. http://stone-paper-scissor.blogspot.in/2012/04/unleash-motherfcking-fury.html yo. i awarded you. go see :D

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  12. Ruhani awesome stuff. Could feel the story top to bottom.

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  13. This comment has been removed by the author.

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  14. Did you realize how beautifully you write?

    Childhood imprints our entire life. I guess.No one can imagine what it is to have a hurtful childhood as that.

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    Replies
    1. Aww you're too generous :*
      I agree. A person's childhood can determine the course of his or her life entirely.

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  15. such a deep picturistic write up !!
    Keep it up !!

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  16. Totally love the post <3 <3

    love
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Why you no comment? Waaaaaaaa :(