Sunday, December 1, 2013

Of Setting Suns and Sunsets

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 44; the forty-fourth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.


She always loved sunsets. There was something about them - maybe the fact that its all over or may be the promise that there will a brighter day tomorrow. She didn’t know what exactly; but she loved watching and losing herself in the moment – in the fields of her big farmhouse. In one of these sunsets, he had come to meet her. She had dreamt of this meeting all her life. The meeting when she will get to meet the man of her life, selected by her parents and relatives. Strangely though, there weren’t any butterflies as she had imagined.

He stayed in the US and was a perfect match for her – tall, handsome, qualified, settled. She was weaving dreams of a beautiful tomorrow just like the one promised by the sunsets she had grown up watching. She was of marriageable age and had to be married for there were 3 more sisters waiting in the line before her father could heave a sigh of relief. And she was packed off to the US without getting a chance to know him, his behavior, his likes dislikes, his temperament. After all, all arranged marriages are like that. Who meets the guy before marriage? Not we Indians plus her mothers and aunts also got married like that. They have always been happy.

And yes, she tried to be happy when the first time he hit her. She had just asked about the picture of the girl on the wall. She tried to be happy when the 2nd time he hit her, she had just wanted her passport back. The Nth time when she had her nth miscarriage, she told herself whatever is meant to happen will happen. But for how long will she have to take it? She was to know soon.

That fateful night when in a drunken state, he came home wanting to bed her and she resisted - he hit her again, with a rod. While she was gathering her strength to stand up on her feet again, she caught hold of the same rod and hit him back. She loved it, she did not know she could do that. “This is nice, it felt so good.” With her new found strength, she kept hitting him till he died, died an easy death. And left her hoping to meet the guy her parents had married her to (not the one she was living with) in another world, another time. She could not stop smiling. She could see the sun set in the far away fields.

It had a stark resemblance with the same sun she had left years ago.


The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count: 01
Credits

Image - Love in the air by Anand
Courtesy - Apple Blossom's Photography via www.blogaton.in

10 comments:

Aditi said...

Oh God..this was heart wrenching!

Jini Fernandez said...

Nice attempt. Loved the climax of the story especially.

lIl hIgH said...

Nice post. Sometimes the sad consequences of following tradition blindly :(. Well written.

Sidharth said...

Great story... Keep it up :)

Amit - The Frivolous Analyser said...

Wow, beautiful narration... the emotions were portrayed so nicely ... gr8

cifar shayar said...

It's good that she gain courage in the end but he should be alive to realize his mistake.

Viyoma said...

Courage makes one see a new life

Between every sun rise and a sun set - there is a story- of Courage, of love.

Simran said...

That was quite tragic!
Nice attempt.

Nicks said...

Thank you all. :)

Someone is Special said...

Welcome to Blog-a-Ton! A heart wrenching tale from you. Keep writing for BAT. Also, I have tagged you here for a BlogAdda's contest. I hope you will acknowledge.

Someone is Special