Monday.
The most despised day.
Just because it follows Sunday, which is, at almost every place, a holiday.
We all love holidays, and the relaxation they give.
Kusum watched them depart, thinking that she would be alone all day, with no one to talk to, in the three storey bungalow. It was going to be tough for her, because it was the first Monday after the vacation. With a great effort she had been a bit closer to Disha, the girl who always was lost in the thoughts of her old mom.
A tear crept out and slid down her cheeks to the chin, falling on the doormat. Disha held her papa's hand while he opened the car door for her. In seconds, they zoomed through the street. In minutes, he'd drop her by school, Kusum thought.
She wanted to go with them. She wanted to see her entering the school with the new school uniform. Her class, her friends, and teachers were not going to be here: It was a new school. She would be alone. Will they talk to her? Will she talk to them?
I hope she does, thought Kusum, as she rested back, swtiching the TV on.
A photoframe was eye catching. Inside the frame of brown-wood-with-golden-applique,
there was a happy couple looking at her. Their eyes spoke of a bright future together.
Dipen..
It was a memorable time when they met first. Kusum would have hated remembering this part. It was a sunny afternoon and the Bus was speeding across the highway, the rubber tires rubbing themselves to the tar road produced unwanted noise and heat.
It was hot, and made her perspire, sweat tickled down her chest. The bus was crowded, and it moved past farms, hotels, and garages-cum-gas stations. A building painted in red and white, with patches of blue, caught her sight. Beyond that was a huge industry.
The National Chemicals Ltd.
It was there that she was supposed to work, got the new job just two days back. But unfortunately she couldn't create any first impression till then.
Yes. She couldn't go to the job, although she'd have happily gone. She wanted to stop the bus, and reach there rightaway. She began to ready herself. Suddenly, she stopped. She looked at her saree. It was in white, with a black floral border. She was in white. Her husband dies two days back, she remembered.
Her sisters-in-law were staring at her. They all were returning from their native place, where they finished the last rites.
Someone had opened a window, and all sunlight was coming directly on her face, which was glowing like a moon, further enhanced by her white dress. They all looked at her, burning in jealousy, for she had it all- beauty and brain. She had managed to get a job with a salary almost twice than her husband.
She didn't feel much bad about his death. She expected it. He was not more than a beast. She felt suffocated and exploited his presence.
"What do I do?", She said to herself.
They all were dozing. She didn't want to look at them. She was tired of the family.
Across the seat, someone was staring at her. She looked at him, and the man in his early thirties loved moved his sight away. The hide-n-seek continued for a while. He was so different from the man she had seen, or rather, been with. Something produced butterflies into her stomach.
"Shameless!", she teased herself, as she softly spoke:
"What is the earliest bus on this route?"
He was startled at the unexpected communication.
"7:30.. in the morning..", he replied, looking at her, and her family members who were asleep. He then turned his face away.
"Where does it start from?"
"It starts from New Colony, and goes by the 100-feet road... and if you come by the Times bus stop, you'll find it half vacant... after which it gets overstuffed.."
Someone sneezed. It was her sister-in-law. Kusum positioned herself. He looked out of the window. They were all now awake, looking like Medusa with their hair badly in in seperate coils.....
Memories.. do wonders... the TV was on, and Kusum was lying on the couch... asleep..
The most despised day.
Just because it follows Sunday, which is, at almost every place, a holiday.
We all love holidays, and the relaxation they give.
Kusum watched them depart, thinking that she would be alone all day, with no one to talk to, in the three storey bungalow. It was going to be tough for her, because it was the first Monday after the vacation. With a great effort she had been a bit closer to Disha, the girl who always was lost in the thoughts of her old mom.
A tear crept out and slid down her cheeks to the chin, falling on the doormat. Disha held her papa's hand while he opened the car door for her. In seconds, they zoomed through the street. In minutes, he'd drop her by school, Kusum thought.
She wanted to go with them. She wanted to see her entering the school with the new school uniform. Her class, her friends, and teachers were not going to be here: It was a new school. She would be alone. Will they talk to her? Will she talk to them?
I hope she does, thought Kusum, as she rested back, swtiching the TV on.
A photoframe was eye catching. Inside the frame of brown-wood-with-golden-applique,
there was a happy couple looking at her. Their eyes spoke of a bright future together.
Dipen..
It was a memorable time when they met first. Kusum would have hated remembering this part. It was a sunny afternoon and the Bus was speeding across the highway, the rubber tires rubbing themselves to the tar road produced unwanted noise and heat.
It was hot, and made her perspire, sweat tickled down her chest. The bus was crowded, and it moved past farms, hotels, and garages-cum-gas stations. A building painted in red and white, with patches of blue, caught her sight. Beyond that was a huge industry.
The National Chemicals Ltd.
It was there that she was supposed to work, got the new job just two days back. But unfortunately she couldn't create any first impression till then.
Yes. She couldn't go to the job, although she'd have happily gone. She wanted to stop the bus, and reach there rightaway. She began to ready herself. Suddenly, she stopped. She looked at her saree. It was in white, with a black floral border. She was in white. Her husband dies two days back, she remembered.
Her sisters-in-law were staring at her. They all were returning from their native place, where they finished the last rites.
Someone had opened a window, and all sunlight was coming directly on her face, which was glowing like a moon, further enhanced by her white dress. They all looked at her, burning in jealousy, for she had it all- beauty and brain. She had managed to get a job with a salary almost twice than her husband.
She didn't feel much bad about his death. She expected it. He was not more than a beast. She felt suffocated and exploited his presence.
"What do I do?", She said to herself.
They all were dozing. She didn't want to look at them. She was tired of the family.
Across the seat, someone was staring at her. She looked at him, and the man in his early thirties loved moved his sight away. The hide-n-seek continued for a while. He was so different from the man she had seen, or rather, been with. Something produced butterflies into her stomach.
"Shameless!", she teased herself, as she softly spoke:
"What is the earliest bus on this route?"
He was startled at the unexpected communication.
"7:30.. in the morning..", he replied, looking at her, and her family members who were asleep. He then turned his face away.
"Where does it start from?"
"It starts from New Colony, and goes by the 100-feet road... and if you come by the Times bus stop, you'll find it half vacant... after which it gets overstuffed.."
Someone sneezed. It was her sister-in-law. Kusum positioned herself. He looked out of the window. They were all now awake, looking like Medusa with their hair badly in in seperate coils.....
Memories.. do wonders... the TV was on, and Kusum was lying on the couch... asleep..
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