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The cold war
#WritcoStoryPrompt123
Start your story about how a single word may bring a fight to an end.
"Sorry" she said..and broke into uncontrollable tears. The long almost never ending fight she had with him, finally ended. That one word "sorry" was all it took to open floodgates of all pumped and locked up emotions that she did not realise that she had been holding back.
He didn't reply to her sorry. He just laid there, shoulders hard, skin cold, a slight smile on his lips, eyes closed, hands folded over his chest. This is how he was most of the days since past few years.
Dementia had gripped his feeble mind. On days he would recognise his daughter , but sometimes she used to be a stranger . When he remembered who she was, those days used to be filled with many a long discussion on their favourite friend "Krishna" and then they would usually end up fighting each stubborn to bow down.
The very next day,he would just ignore her. Well in his mind, she did not exist. She was a stranger. He would then just sit there and stare blankly. If he were in a good mood he would pick up his flute and just play whatever tunes he could play. Sometimes for minutes or sometimes for hours at stretch.
Ohh how much she hated him.
Her childhood overshadowed by his eccentricities, filled with stories of him abandoning the family, coming back high on substances, her youth spent in fear of his drug abusive nature, of just avoiding him in all possible ways, though he was trying to stay clean but the side effects were worse. She was scared of his volatile nature. One minute he would be all fatherly helping in homework and the next he would just slap her for a negligible mistake . Then again he would punish himself by banging his hand on the hard floor or the wall till it bleed to show how sorry he was for hitting her. This scared her more. She had heard stories of his childhood from aunts and uncles, the elderly staying in the chawl, that he was a fine artist and a very pleasant jovial man. But after her birth, somehow he had changed. For years Ramee heard the same things over and over again. She hated herself for being his daughter. Hated him for being the reason she was born. If he didn't want him then why did he not strangle her completely as he had set out to do during one of his drug induced haze. There were whispers that she had heard about her father trying to kill her when she was mere ten days old.
Those whispers never died and as a teenager she had heard them many a times enough to hate the man to call him her father. Inspite of all the hatred she respected him as a human and as a responsibility she alone had to take care of. Her mother had died when she was eighteen. Lack of money, and no support from the extended family, a non working alive but dead within father, were of no consequence. She learned to cope up on her own and was pushed into taking care of her so called father. She hated the way she still cared for him. His state devoured most of her days when she should be at her own home with her own children,nurturing them. But Ramee had no such luck. It was due to this she hated her father more with each passing day.
She fought with God - her Krishna as well. She used to sometimes imagine punching Krishna in the face,and then cornering him and asking her all the questions she wanted to ask, if he ever met her.Sometimes it was Krishna who caressed her cheeks wiping her tears that she tried to hide from the world but could never hide from him. She prayed and fought, love and hated Krishna. But in her heart she knew, Krishna, the almighty God that he is, was always by her side. He would never ever leave her alone, or abandon her. This gave her strength to just move along. But yet something sat heavy in her heart.
It was 10th of July. The rain had drenched the earth persistently throughout the night. The morning was calm, silent, even cold and misty. That morning, when she entered the room to give him his chai and breakfast, she knew something was amiss. His breathing was no longer heard, nor could she feel his eyes moving to see her. The tray fell from her hands. Shaking, shivering she fell on his shoulder and the only word that she could manage to speak out was "sorry"
Their unspoken, unexplained cold war, was broken finally. The heavy stone of hatred,lifted from the core of her heart. Her breath suddenly felt light and free. She felt the warmth of Krishna's hug and she knew suddenly all the answers to her unasked questions. Late it was by many years but it the fight broke with his last breath and her first word of that fateful day.
© meerabhansali/theworkingofthesoul
Start your story about how a single word may bring a fight to an end.
"Sorry" she said..and broke into uncontrollable tears. The long almost never ending fight she had with him, finally ended. That one word "sorry" was all it took to open floodgates of all pumped and locked up emotions that she did not realise that she had been holding back.
He didn't reply to her sorry. He just laid there, shoulders hard, skin cold, a slight smile on his lips, eyes closed, hands folded over his chest. This is how he was most of the days since past few years.
Dementia had gripped his feeble mind. On days he would recognise his daughter , but sometimes she used to be a stranger . When he remembered who she was, those days used to be filled with many a long discussion on their favourite friend "Krishna" and then they would usually end up fighting each stubborn to bow down.
The very next day,he would just ignore her. Well in his mind, she did not exist. She was a stranger. He would then just sit there and stare blankly. If he were in a good mood he would pick up his flute and just play whatever tunes he could play. Sometimes for minutes or sometimes for hours at stretch.
Ohh how much she hated him.
Her childhood overshadowed by his eccentricities, filled with stories of him abandoning the family, coming back high on substances, her youth spent in fear of his drug abusive nature, of just avoiding him in all possible ways, though he was trying to stay clean but the side effects were worse. She was scared of his volatile nature. One minute he would be all fatherly helping in homework and the next he would just slap her for a negligible mistake . Then again he would punish himself by banging his hand on the hard floor or the wall till it bleed to show how sorry he was for hitting her. This scared her more. She had heard stories of his childhood from aunts and uncles, the elderly staying in the chawl, that he was a fine artist and a very pleasant jovial man. But after her birth, somehow he had changed. For years Ramee heard the same things over and over again. She hated herself for being his daughter. Hated him for being the reason she was born. If he didn't want him then why did he not strangle her completely as he had set out to do during one of his drug induced haze. There were whispers that she had heard about her father trying to kill her when she was mere ten days old.
Those whispers never died and as a teenager she had heard them many a times enough to hate the man to call him her father. Inspite of all the hatred she respected him as a human and as a responsibility she alone had to take care of. Her mother had died when she was eighteen. Lack of money, and no support from the extended family, a non working alive but dead within father, were of no consequence. She learned to cope up on her own and was pushed into taking care of her so called father. She hated the way she still cared for him. His state devoured most of her days when she should be at her own home with her own children,nurturing them. But Ramee had no such luck. It was due to this she hated her father more with each passing day.
She fought with God - her Krishna as well. She used to sometimes imagine punching Krishna in the face,and then cornering him and asking her all the questions she wanted to ask, if he ever met her.Sometimes it was Krishna who caressed her cheeks wiping her tears that she tried to hide from the world but could never hide from him. She prayed and fought, love and hated Krishna. But in her heart she knew, Krishna, the almighty God that he is, was always by her side. He would never ever leave her alone, or abandon her. This gave her strength to just move along. But yet something sat heavy in her heart.
It was 10th of July. The rain had drenched the earth persistently throughout the night. The morning was calm, silent, even cold and misty. That morning, when she entered the room to give him his chai and breakfast, she knew something was amiss. His breathing was no longer heard, nor could she feel his eyes moving to see her. The tray fell from her hands. Shaking, shivering she fell on his shoulder and the only word that she could manage to speak out was "sorry"
Their unspoken, unexplained cold war, was broken finally. The heavy stone of hatred,lifted from the core of her heart. Her breath suddenly felt light and free. She felt the warmth of Krishna's hug and she knew suddenly all the answers to her unasked questions. Late it was by many years but it the fight broke with his last breath and her first word of that fateful day.
© meerabhansali/theworkingofthesoul
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