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GRAVESTONE
Trigger warning:
Reader discretion is advised.
.........................................................
There was something still and eerie about that evening...
The dry breeze that made the leaves of the tall peepal trees sway,seemed to echo the silence all around. The only noise being made, on that especially dark and cloudy evening, was the twittering of a couple of Indian sparrows that hid themselves in the lushgreen foliage of an ancient banyan tree, located approximately six metres away from the grounds.
She stood in front of a particularly large,greying gravestone. His gravestone. This,this was where his remains would remain buried forever. He, his presence, his sweet smile, his warm heart, his infinite charisma were now all reduced to a mere lifeless body...cold,unresponsive...hidden away from her eye...
A plethora of all the memories that they had made and laughter they had shared,floated unto the surface of her mind...like a movie. She remembered their morning walks in the park, those particularly eventful long drives to fantastic remote locations, so far,far away from the hustle bustle of the urbanised town. She remembered their holidays, in Miami and Goa, all the secrets they had shared, hand in hand, looking over at the setting sun, whose fierce departing hues seemed to set the entire sea on literal fire.
And...she remembered, with a tingle, of the times she had pulled him to her bosom, when he had complained of a particularly depressing day,or of raging peers. But now...and she felt her heart twist within its ribcage ... it was all over. Her words, the warmth of her bosom, and the slow caress of her fingers had given him but, momentary relief, a sense of escapism... that was crushed, as soon as harsh reality hit him...as soon as he ,no longer, felt her comforting hands around his neck.
She remembered how falsely he had trusted Anne ,who in turn, had accused him of multiple attempts of sexual assault, while he had continually denied it, saying that she had turned against him, due to his refusal to start up a physical relationship with her. The police force had taken up Anne's side, and he had had repeated messages from Anne's friends, sone mocking him, others threatening him of bodily harm, if he ' ever dared ' to go against her wishes in future.
And oh dear! She felt a lump in her throat, as she remembered walking into his room, early one morning; barely a day ago, and collapsing at the sight of his wide,unblinking eyes and lifeless form hanging from the fan in the room.
The nightsky was lit up, with the light of a trillion twinkling stars. She laid down a basket of white flowers at the foot of his grave, as teardrops cascaded down both cheeks, onto the hard stony ground.
"Go home, girl. It's getting dark."
She started. Wheeling around swiftly, she found herself face-to-face with an old woman, with an oil lamp in one hand.
"Are you the wife?" she asked in a kinder tone, looking at her face and then at the gravestone she stood in front of,quivering slightly.
"Are you his wife?" she repeated.
"No, I'm his mother."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Reader discretion is advised.
.........................................................
There was something still and eerie about that evening...
The dry breeze that made the leaves of the tall peepal trees sway,seemed to echo the silence all around. The only noise being made, on that especially dark and cloudy evening, was the twittering of a couple of Indian sparrows that hid themselves in the lushgreen foliage of an ancient banyan tree, located approximately six metres away from the grounds.
She stood in front of a particularly large,greying gravestone. His gravestone. This,this was where his remains would remain buried forever. He, his presence, his sweet smile, his warm heart, his infinite charisma were now all reduced to a mere lifeless body...cold,unresponsive...hidden away from her eye...
A plethora of all the memories that they had made and laughter they had shared,floated unto the surface of her mind...like a movie. She remembered their morning walks in the park, those particularly eventful long drives to fantastic remote locations, so far,far away from the hustle bustle of the urbanised town. She remembered their holidays, in Miami and Goa, all the secrets they had shared, hand in hand, looking over at the setting sun, whose fierce departing hues seemed to set the entire sea on literal fire.
And...she remembered, with a tingle, of the times she had pulled him to her bosom, when he had complained of a particularly depressing day,or of raging peers. But now...and she felt her heart twist within its ribcage ... it was all over. Her words, the warmth of her bosom, and the slow caress of her fingers had given him but, momentary relief, a sense of escapism... that was crushed, as soon as harsh reality hit him...as soon as he ,no longer, felt her comforting hands around his neck.
She remembered how falsely he had trusted Anne ,who in turn, had accused him of multiple attempts of sexual assault, while he had continually denied it, saying that she had turned against him, due to his refusal to start up a physical relationship with her. The police force had taken up Anne's side, and he had had repeated messages from Anne's friends, sone mocking him, others threatening him of bodily harm, if he ' ever dared ' to go against her wishes in future.
And oh dear! She felt a lump in her throat, as she remembered walking into his room, early one morning; barely a day ago, and collapsing at the sight of his wide,unblinking eyes and lifeless form hanging from the fan in the room.
The nightsky was lit up, with the light of a trillion twinkling stars. She laid down a basket of white flowers at the foot of his grave, as teardrops cascaded down both cheeks, onto the hard stony ground.
"Go home, girl. It's getting dark."
She started. Wheeling around swiftly, she found herself face-to-face with an old woman, with an oil lamp in one hand.
"Are you the wife?" she asked in a kinder tone, looking at her face and then at the gravestone she stood in front of,quivering slightly.
"Are you his wife?" she repeated.
"No, I'm his mother."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
