Change

Gender studies class, Mrs. Lahiri was telling the class about the state of women in our country in the pre-independence era. Their lives were confined within the boundaries of the house, dictated by the male members of the family. Married off at a young age, they were denied education and expected to remain in purdah. 

She was lost in thoughts. Life must have been difficult for these women. To have remained subjugated for long years, they would have lost their voice. Loss of voice is equivalent to loss of identity. Without identity, there is no existence. 

The enormity of their loss, large disparity overwhelmed her. Her thoughts were disturbed, and questions filled her mind. How did they survive? Did any one even try reasoning out? 

Answering her question, Mrs. Lahiri's quoted Maya Angelou, "If you don't like something, change it. If you can't change it, then change your attitude."

Everyone changes, it is just a matter of time.

Afraid of the Dark

It had been a busy week. Meera, five years old in the elearning industry had taken the big career leap. After passing the multiple rounds of interview, she had been accepted for the position of a senior technical writer. The new company was one of pioneers in the elearning industry and Meera was excited to start a new chapter of her career. She had found an apartment in a neighborhood close to the office. Today she would move in with a couple of bags and planned to set up the place over the weekend. After spending all those years in a hostel, sharing rooms, she was thrilled beyond words at having a place for herself.

After doing a final check on the Tasks for the Day list at her desk, she decided to call it a day. The cab took a left turn at 15th Cross street. It was little off from the main road and gave a deserted look except for a dog who kept running from one end of the street to the other. She had quickly grown fond of the place with its quiet surroundings and tall dark trees; the apartment had an open balcony that looked over to the East. She could picture herself curled up in her favorite chair with her copy of Wuthering Heights sipping tea from her purple Powerpuff Girls cup. She had found her corner in this world.

She unlocked the door and stepped into her new home. Dropping her bags she looked around. There were a few things leftover by the previous tenants. Meera decided to get down to cleaning business without wasting any more time. 

One hour later, the house looked more habitable than when Meera had first stepped in. She had collected the abandoned, old things at one place, planning to dispose them next morning. But she was not ready to let go of the rocking chair. Made up of shisham wood, the chair gave an old world look to the whole place. She was besotted by its charming style and it would go perfectly with her minimal decor idea.

Too tired to cook, she crashed into her bed, hungry. Sleep came easily, and she drifted in and out of dreams. There was her mother advising her to eat well, her project manager listing out another task for the day, Abhi sounding concerned over her decision to live alone, and then she heard a faint creaking sound. Startled, she woke up with her heart beating fast. The creaking sound, it happened again. And again. 

Heart in her mouth, she gathered courage to walk into the living room. The chair was there, moving back and forth, slowly, rhythmically. The creaking sound, loud and clear now. 

"Oh God! I am afraid!", she thought. "I am afraid of the dark".

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda. WOW theme of the week: 'Your response to the question, 'Are you afraid of the dark?'.

Bully

School bag in hand she walked slow steps towards her desk. She was not looking forward to the day. She was not looking forward to come to school. In fact, last night her mind was busy coming up with excuses to skip school. But somehow all of them fell flat after a second of reasoning. And today, here she was sitting at her desk, head between her hands, thinking hard. 

It was not the Maths class that she dreaded, nor was she bothered by the constant chiding of the stern Mrs. Lahiri. Life at school was pretty normal and fun, until N had joined. She brought along with her the air of the big city, something which was looked at like exotic in this simple community life of Roing. Boys and girls had fallen to her charming ways just like bees to honey. They were the ones who were treated often by invites to the weekend parties at her place. And for those who did not belong to this group, quickly fell out of favor in her book.

Emboldened by her new found popularity, N had started picking on the few who she decided had offended her senses. M had the misfortune to be one of them. Life at school had become a sore point of her life. She lived each day in fear of being laughed at , being ridiculed, being harassed. She tried keeping a low profile, talking less and keeping to herself, and walking away from the school as fast her feet could carry her; but none of these measures could protect her from the mad, juvenile antics of N. 

Now after several encounters with N and her entourage, her shell had developed a crack, it had grown over the week, and now it was threatening to break. N walked in a supercilious smile on her pink lips, looked straight into M's eyes and said, "Good morning sweetie!".

Advancement

It had been a busy week. Meera, five years old in the elearning industry had taken the big career leap. After passing the multiple rounds of interview, she had been accepted for the position of a senior technical writer. The new company was one of pioneers in the elearning industry and Meera was excited to start a new chapter of her career. She had found an apartment in a neighborhood close to the office. Today she would move in with a couple of bags and planned to set up the place over the weekend. After spending all those years in a hostel, sharing rooms, she was thrilled beyond words at having a place for herself.

After doing a final check on the Tasks for the Day list at her desk, she decided to call it a day. The cab took a left turn at 15th Cross street. It was little off from the main road and gave a deserted look except for a dog who kept running from one end of the street to the other. She had quickly grown fond of the place with its quiet surroundings and tall dark trees; the apartment had an open balcony that looked over to the East. She could picture herself curled up in her favorite chair with her copy of Wuthering Heights sipping tea from her purple Powerpuff Girls cup. She had found her corner in this world.

She unlocked the door and stepped into her new home.