Here’s the first of my three short stories based on the given picture.
For Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers (FFfAW) hosted by Priceless Joy.
That Rainy Day…
Simran’s heart skipped a beat as the rhythmic drum beat came nearer. And then the doorbell rang.
As she opened the outer latched gate, in came the fervent crowd and excitedly smeared colored powder on her feverish face.
“Happy Holi !!” They showered her with blissful wishes but today this chant sounded like din to her. This was the happy neighborhood where she and her husband Karan had lovingly celebrated their festivals, ever since they settled in this big city.
But exactly two years ago it was on Holi day, when Karan – an impulsive royal Rajput, had clashed with a rival Rajput in his ancestral village, and all colors had faded from their life. Only one color bled and that was red. Karan vanished from his village, while she, the only witness to the drama, had come back to the city.
As the joyous crowd continued to shower colors that blended with the pouring rain, Simran gazed dumbly at the puddles. There were various hues – green, yellow, purple – but she saw only ‘red’.
Soon the crowd departed and the drum-beating became faint. After sitting for long reliving the past, suddenly she moved and decided, that she’ll contact the police.
Karma has only one colour. That of truth. And you can’t run away from it.
(The context of my above story is the evolving cities and villages of India. Modern day people had some family histories that they have moved away from, and yet past stays on with them.
Some of the current day Rajputs , the descendants of princely warrior families of India, nowadays live in the cities like normal working public. But many of them still maintain their good and bad regal attitude/s. A kind of identity crisis. They are quick to fight. Especially, anytime they go back to their villages, they adorn their previous avtaar.
And…. as you may know, Holi is a festival of colors celebrated in India.)
Copyright © 2015 Alka Girdhar