PRAKREETI

She was Prakreeti, Nature; the purest of them all. Brought in this world to fill it with extra love and hope with her golden heart, which illuminated even the darkest of places.

Daughter of a rickshaw puller, her morning started with plucking and making flower garlands for the rich ladies. Smelling like her jasmine and roses which filled her courtyard, she would smile at everyone passing her on the road, making every morning beautiful. She would go door to door, her basket filled with sweet smelling ornaments, where all the ladies of Vishnupur will be waiting for her. In no time she’ll be running back to her home empty basket, to make lunch for her father.

A motherless child, she was brought by her Nani, with more love than her mother could have given her. But Nani too had grown old, which prohibited her granddaughter from going to school.

Every morning she climbed up the neighbour’s wall, and wave at the school buses passing by her area. She pitied them, feeling lucky, for leaving her home and Nani every day was too big a punishment for her.

She knew how to count her money, she even knew the alphabets, and it was more than enough for her. And so she waved and smiled with her whole heart and the sleepy kids watched the thirteen year old girl, and waved back, feeling a little more cheerful for their day ahead.

That was the spark of her angelic smile. It energised everyone who saw it. They couldn’t help but smile. Nani always put black kohl on her forehead, “nazar lag jaegi!” As to protect her little fairy from the ill omens. Her father loved her a lot too, but he wasn’t there, and Nani was all she got. All her knowledge about the world came from the sweetest old woman on the cot.

“What happened to them, Nani?”

Prakreeti saw them every night. They came from the part of city she’d never been before. They came on old rusty jeep, yelling, singing, laughing in them. Their action puzzled her a lot.

Nani told her it was liquor. A drink made from nauseating methods. When taken, it would make one forget their sadness, and make them happy, too happy. And too much of a good thing was a bad thing, it made them crazy. Nani told her liquor was very bad.

“Never drink it, my child.”

“I won’t.”

And she wouldn’t. But she wondered about it. A drink to forget one’s misery, a drink to bring joy. Magical indeed. What if she drank it, what will she forget, her sadness, but what made her sad? Being poor? No, she had her flowers, most precious jewels in the world. Then what, being motherless? But she had most amazing Nani in the world.

No, she had nothing to be sad about. She need not drink liquor. But those men did, every day. How sad their life must be. They had to forget their misery every day, poor people!

Right at that time she heard the horn of the jeep. She ran at the door, her pure heart filled with compassion at their pain, her eyes empathy.

They looked at a girl out of her house in dark of night. Maybe their pain was too much and they needed it to share. That must be the reason for their actions.

They pulled her in the jeep, in the middle seat. They didn’t see a kind soul feeling for them as they stuffed he mouth to prevent her screams. They didn’t see her angelic face confused at what was happening to her. They didn’t see a thirteen year old kid before ripping her clothes and beating her. They didn’t see her innocent eyes brimming with tears of helplessness before doing the unspeakable. They didn’t notice her melodious voice, screaming in pain, it was unheard in their laughter.

Satisfied, they threw her in canal outside the city, got on their jeep and went back to their holes.

Next morning, ladies of Vishnupur waited for their favourite salesgirl, and her beautiful flowers. Kids in the school buses craned their head to see their friend waving at them.

She wasn’t there. She was long gone. Her body floated away from her world. Her home, her flowers, her Nani, her father. . .

She was Prakreeti; nature in human form, trying to take away pain from this world; was corrupted by who lived in it.