PhotosArchives FA-Q Food Geekfest Colophon
Archive for Short Shorts

Tuesday, March 7, 2006

Short Shorts : Three : Pretty Flower

She was ten. Brushing her bobbing pigtails one extra time, she patted them down. White, with pink and purple flowers. This was her favorite frock.

Everyone said he was very smart. One day, maybe, you will also go to IIT, they used to tell to her. She couldn’t wait to grow up and be like him. Ravi was her favorite cousin. Always brought her chocolates. Cadbury Eclairs. And took her on piggy-back rides and made her giggle. And when mum wasn’t around, he would sneak her off to get ice cream. Butterscotch.

She sat next to him on the edge of the bed, feet dangling and swinging, and showed him her new painting. I won the second prize for it, she said, her face beaming with pride. That’s very nice. You know, those flowers on your dress are very nice too, he said, as he started to trace their outlines. His fingers slowly ran up her thigh.

She did not want to grow up and be like him. She did not want to grow up.


Written as part of the Blank Noise Blog-a-thon 2006. Although, since this isn’t about street harassment, which is the topic of the blog-a-thon, I am not entirely sure if it qualifies.

Sexual harassment and abuse of children younger than twelve years old constitutes a good percentage of the total reported cases. And yet, the available statistics hardly reflect reality. A large number of children don’t even know how to identify abuse, forget report it. Even more so, when the abuser is a family member.

As adults, we have some ways to oppose harassment. Whether we do or not, is a different matter. But we can yell, scream, try to fight back physically and attempt to raise awareness about it. But what does a child do? Their inherent trust in adults, their fear to question their motives and actions, and their own inability to distinguish between right and wrong often leaves them powerless.

Update : Some contact numbers (Thanks Rajesh and Peter, for the info!)

If you know or suspect that a child is being abused, talk to you local authorities or call —

Monday, September 12, 2005

Short Shorts : Two : Train of Thought

!
?
Hmm!
Huh?
Niiice!
Grrr!
*grin* Babe!
*scowl* Creep!

The inbound and outbound trains whooshed in onto the platforms from opposite sides.

(Written as part of the 55-word story tag from Rajesh. As this is my moment of sweet revenge, I pass it on to past tag-inflicters — Dharmendra, Kaashyapeya and Anshul as well as other bakras who I think will enjoy this — Sagnik, gvenum and Anurag. If you’d like to play this game of tag, holler and I’ll do the needful.)

Wednesday, June 15, 2005

Short Shorts : One : The Wait

We stood around waiting for her time to come. But she figured we could wait some more. She smiled with a twinkle in her ninety-four year old eyes, at us — kids, grandkids and great-grandkids. “Why the impatience?” her eyes seemed to say. “Did I not wait all these years? For my son to return home to the village while he moved from city to city? To take me to his home after he settled down with his new wife? For my daughter-in-law to bring me that extra-strong coffee I always liked? For my first grandchild? For my great-grandchildren every summer when they promised to visit me?”

We waited in silence. She smiled again.

Grandmother died. Ailed of old age, they say.