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"That day I understood, that freedom is never free, it always comes with a price, this time it came cloaked as a punishment.. "
#WritcoStoryPrompt84
In the corners of your mind, there are smiles and memories that you cannot just leave behind, that you cannot just forget. Pen a story about it.
"Sharing few lines from first chapter of my upcoming novel 👇👇👇"
"People are smaller than a speck of sand in this world who brag about their problem as if the universe will change if they exaggerate it.
It's me. I am people. I am 19-year old living in a place which most of the people might not even heard of.
Population: 2,45,375, Nestling at the heart of a Nagar, my hometown. Sandwiched between two streams, Nagar is rather an elevated landscape with a little too many trees at each side of the road. The town people are nice and welcoming in nature with an exception of a few, of course.
Old folks, which you'll find on the roadside benches under the shade of the big mango tree planted by the mayor years before I was born, will always have rosemary in their hand and shine in their eyes searching for a new subject of gossip. Gossip is an activity carried out religiously in my town. A person won't be knowing so much about their family member the way the geezers do. Women, with a little cunningness in their heart, talk about their kids' future to other women whose kid is falling behind in classes.
The fathers, well the only thing that matters to them is the day their wife cooked meat or the day their wife has little to complain or no complaints at all. The other thing that concerns such devout parents is their kids' career choices.
The three career options as if written in the Veda's were: Engineering from any institute; Medical from any goddamn institute again and last but not the least, sweeper, who prolly earns more than the first two. Now stated vices of my town, the virtues will make you overlook all of them.
Despite all the vices, the townspeople aren't heartless as they seem. From the mayor to any ordinary middle-class person, all of them, all of us are helpful. Few help with a desire of reward, few just for getting the poor fellow out of trouble, with the sole purpose of helping. Another virtue of the town is religious tolerance, which you guys know if you are in touch with current affairs is a thing the people in our country are lacking the most.
I won't be stating any more for even I am not aware of any other. In this full of hustle-busty town lies my little abode. A family of four, sometimes five when dad decides to stay with us, living in a not-so-small apartment of two bedrooms. The apartment belonged to my maternal grandparents. Under a few circumstances, we moved in here. I believe I was 11 back then when I first met him...
"Standing at the door behind a lady was a boy of my age, somewhat shorter than me with thick black hair and skin like honey, soft and brown, with big black eyes that stared at me and my mother as if we were freaks or Barbarians.
I immediately decided to befriend him, the desperate lone kid that I was. He shrugged, backed a little, and refused. I was SHATTERED."
"A few weeks later, we were inseparable. We used to play every day, every evening. For me, I made my first friend. He had just made another. The chirping of birds in the evening was our cue to head home. I found him near the off-limits, the other side of our apartment. Realizing the danger he was putting us in I called out, "Dastan!"
He stopped and turned around with a smirk on his face that promised trouble. The only time we'd get in trouble is when we returned home late. And that's exactly what we were doing. "What are you doing? Let's go home." I said. The fact that I was afraid of the other side wasn't something he didn't know. He was very well aware of it. He tilted his head in the direction of the darkness,
"Firdaus, let's go! There's nothing to be afraid of."
He was confident, right from the beginning. And mischievous too, might I add. Swift like any dream and smart like a court poet, Dastan was everything a kid was supposed to be. I looked at him with wide eyes, "But aunt Afsaneh will scold you, and so will my maa. Let's go, Dastan."
"Ah, Firdaus, you're such a coward." he teased and turned around and started walking away knowing damn well that I would follow him, even if it meant marching into hell, and so I did, followed him.
We broke the first rule, together. But it was worth it. And I feel I wouldn't have remembered it so clearly if it were someone else. My bad, I mean our bad decision that day made us aware of the many beautiful trees that were at the backyard. A young lemon tree taller than us was at far corner. A night queen which had begun to bloom was ethereal, almost glowed in the darkness. Periwinkle, Coconut tree, hibiscus, poppy and bushes. A path was paved in the middle of the meadow. We stood on it and grinned at each other. "See, nothing to be afraid of." he said.
Suddenly we both heard a low growl and feeling of chill ran down our spine. All the smiles were replaced with fear. In the darkness we saw pair of honey brown eyes staring at us. It was growling and all of a sudden it leaped at us. Thanks to the guy who got us into trouble's quick instincts, we walked out alive. To find my maa and aunt Afsaneh glaring at us. For a while we couldn't decide what was more scarier, our mothers or our fate. "Noor, I believe they should be grounded." Aunt Afsaneh spoke to my mum in such a cold tone that made us gulp. "I agree." was all my maa replied.
It wasn't the dog in the dark that was scary. The thought of not meeting Dastan for a whole week was. And that day I understood, that freedom is never free, it always comes with a price, this time it came cloaked as a punishment for both of us. A punishment to teach a lesson to us that rules are meant to be followed not broken, but alas! Our tender minds couldn't understand it ever.
Good memories are a result of bad decisions. Though I never regret a decision I made with him. In 7 years of our friendship, we broke several rules, shared many aims, fought many times. To me, all his mistakes could be forgiven. All, but one.....which forced me to move on to explore new worlds new horizon...
#writcostorychallenge #writcostory #WritcoCommunity #writco #sanhita #love #relationships #nostalgia
@Sanh9292
© Sanhita Sonavane
In the corners of your mind, there are smiles and memories that you cannot just leave behind, that you cannot just forget. Pen a story about it.
"Sharing few lines from first chapter of my upcoming novel 👇👇👇"
"People are smaller than a speck of sand in this world who brag about their problem as if the universe will change if they exaggerate it.
It's me. I am people. I am 19-year old living in a place which most of the people might not even heard of.
Population: 2,45,375, Nestling at the heart of a Nagar, my hometown. Sandwiched between two streams, Nagar is rather an elevated landscape with a little too many trees at each side of the road. The town people are nice and welcoming in nature with an exception of a few, of course.
Old folks, which you'll find on the roadside benches under the shade of the big mango tree planted by the mayor years before I was born, will always have rosemary in their hand and shine in their eyes searching for a new subject of gossip. Gossip is an activity carried out religiously in my town. A person won't be knowing so much about their family member the way the geezers do. Women, with a little cunningness in their heart, talk about their kids' future to other women whose kid is falling behind in classes.
The fathers, well the only thing that matters to them is the day their wife cooked meat or the day their wife has little to complain or no complaints at all. The other thing that concerns such devout parents is their kids' career choices.
The three career options as if written in the Veda's were: Engineering from any institute; Medical from any goddamn institute again and last but not the least, sweeper, who prolly earns more than the first two. Now stated vices of my town, the virtues will make you overlook all of them.
Despite all the vices, the townspeople aren't heartless as they seem. From the mayor to any ordinary middle-class person, all of them, all of us are helpful. Few help with a desire of reward, few just for getting the poor fellow out of trouble, with the sole purpose of helping. Another virtue of the town is religious tolerance, which you guys know if you are in touch with current affairs is a thing the people in our country are lacking the most.
I won't be stating any more for even I am not aware of any other. In this full of hustle-busty town lies my little abode. A family of four, sometimes five when dad decides to stay with us, living in a not-so-small apartment of two bedrooms. The apartment belonged to my maternal grandparents. Under a few circumstances, we moved in here. I believe I was 11 back then when I first met him...
"Standing at the door behind a lady was a boy of my age, somewhat shorter than me with thick black hair and skin like honey, soft and brown, with big black eyes that stared at me and my mother as if we were freaks or Barbarians.
I immediately decided to befriend him, the desperate lone kid that I was. He shrugged, backed a little, and refused. I was SHATTERED."
"A few weeks later, we were inseparable. We used to play every day, every evening. For me, I made my first friend. He had just made another. The chirping of birds in the evening was our cue to head home. I found him near the off-limits, the other side of our apartment. Realizing the danger he was putting us in I called out, "Dastan!"
He stopped and turned around with a smirk on his face that promised trouble. The only time we'd get in trouble is when we returned home late. And that's exactly what we were doing. "What are you doing? Let's go home." I said. The fact that I was afraid of the other side wasn't something he didn't know. He was very well aware of it. He tilted his head in the direction of the darkness,
"Firdaus, let's go! There's nothing to be afraid of."
He was confident, right from the beginning. And mischievous too, might I add. Swift like any dream and smart like a court poet, Dastan was everything a kid was supposed to be. I looked at him with wide eyes, "But aunt Afsaneh will scold you, and so will my maa. Let's go, Dastan."
"Ah, Firdaus, you're such a coward." he teased and turned around and started walking away knowing damn well that I would follow him, even if it meant marching into hell, and so I did, followed him.
We broke the first rule, together. But it was worth it. And I feel I wouldn't have remembered it so clearly if it were someone else. My bad, I mean our bad decision that day made us aware of the many beautiful trees that were at the backyard. A young lemon tree taller than us was at far corner. A night queen which had begun to bloom was ethereal, almost glowed in the darkness. Periwinkle, Coconut tree, hibiscus, poppy and bushes. A path was paved in the middle of the meadow. We stood on it and grinned at each other. "See, nothing to be afraid of." he said.
Suddenly we both heard a low growl and feeling of chill ran down our spine. All the smiles were replaced with fear. In the darkness we saw pair of honey brown eyes staring at us. It was growling and all of a sudden it leaped at us. Thanks to the guy who got us into trouble's quick instincts, we walked out alive. To find my maa and aunt Afsaneh glaring at us. For a while we couldn't decide what was more scarier, our mothers or our fate. "Noor, I believe they should be grounded." Aunt Afsaneh spoke to my mum in such a cold tone that made us gulp. "I agree." was all my maa replied.
It wasn't the dog in the dark that was scary. The thought of not meeting Dastan for a whole week was. And that day I understood, that freedom is never free, it always comes with a price, this time it came cloaked as a punishment for both of us. A punishment to teach a lesson to us that rules are meant to be followed not broken, but alas! Our tender minds couldn't understand it ever.
Good memories are a result of bad decisions. Though I never regret a decision I made with him. In 7 years of our friendship, we broke several rules, shared many aims, fought many times. To me, all his mistakes could be forgiven. All, but one.....which forced me to move on to explore new worlds new horizon...
#writcostorychallenge #writcostory #WritcoCommunity #writco #sanhita #love #relationships #nostalgia
@Sanh9292
© Sanhita Sonavane
