“No,….” “No I won’t, I won’t call him.” “But what about love?” Sonali was battling with her thoughts. Her mind was adjuring her to call her love, her better-half , her boyfriend. But she was not getting guts and permission from her intuition to call him. Isolated from the domain ,in her small pinky room with walls covered in posters and fly-posters of seven wonders of world, from the Taj Mahal to Colosseum in Rome. Fly-posters were of the interior designs of the air plane, which she have hung outlaw from her family rules and regulations. The wall forefront of her single bed with stinky bed sheet have the white chart paper, which was turned to brown with mini dust sitting making it to look unpleasant, corners of the white paper had red, maroon stains of blood, which was O+ belonged to Sonali. Hardly that bloody chart paper gained attention from Sonali now. She didn’t bother to memorize the hospitality rules for hosting in aircraft. Beside the chart paper had an oak shelves, designed by Sonali herself, which was filled with romance, thrill, fiction, fairytale, mystery, biographies and many more, Sonali loved her little world in her pinky room. But in few days, it feels like Sonali’s world was only that mini pink room. She never opened her pale grey wooden door for anyone, not for her Ammu not for her little angelic sister. She stayed on her bed laying on her stomach with shambolic hairs, dark moon under her eyes and uneven dirty black long nails and same yellow t-shirt with her printed favourite quote ” Quitters never win and Winners never quit.” And lowers with blood stains due to her menses. She was transformed from hot, beautiful, graceful,sexy and intelligent girl to ugly, dark, mad girl. Last week physiatrist have written in her file as “Clinically depressed.” And prescribed her anti- depressing tablets.
It was modest day, as of habit Ammu knocked the pale frey door or the truth is she banged Sonali’s pinky room door. She also called pappa to succour her in opening her elder daughter’s room. Who was sitting on her plastic woven purple chair with holding and clutching her knees deaf towards her door, as if she can’t hear those bangs but those bangs would exasperate anyone even the born deaf would hear, but she was unaffected with this. Busy in her all gloomy thoughts of her boyfriend’s ill behaviour. So at last Jaded parents sat on their chairs, after no response from their daughter. Once the ambitious girl, with eyes full of dreams , moves and works were brimful of passion and ardour. Was now lost in melancholy of lost, green and red love. Insecurity due to grapevine and fear of rejection of society. She have rehearsal her funeral in her pinky room, where she stayed only to herself. She planned her death and endeavour it many times. Along with it she have written a numerous letter to her boyfriend but not posting them in red letter box, maybe she had forgotten that without posting you can’t get reply. Once, this same girl panicked for getting just single pimple on her chin and today she is reckless about her glamour beauty. She shed silent tears at night and spend her day thinking why haven’t he replied to her letters which she hasn’t post.
She didn’t curse herself for loving a wrong person, but she punished herself by traumatizing her mind and body. She didn’t blame him ,who ditched her, betrayed her, who have slapped her in public who have made her porn video, who have cuffed her in his Orthodox norms . Who have declined her marriage proposal. His personality was a humble example of a paradox on hers. Sonali a splendid , rebel hearted wasn’t ready to give up on that ogre. A kind of barbarian which she has always found evil in greek tales. According to her peeps he was a ghoul in human civilization. Who have made the best girl to the worst. Her letters to her boyfriend, lay neetly in cotton pocket in her wardrobe, those letters have words describing their days of togetherness. Everyone have lost hope on Sonali, her Ammu, her angelic eyes sister , her bald father, her lean but food obsessed best friend.
It was a regular morning. Azure sky with tiny cotton billows floating. Sun in light yellow. Radient pinky room, stinky bedsheets and plates with untouched but rancid food, vermilion, ruby red stained chart paper was on its place moving and wobbling with little breeze of mud February. But, Sonali Gibbeted herself on celing fan which was printed with orchids. She hung herself and finished the tantrum which her mind gave her. She was done with waiting for him. She was tired and lost all her hopes , she found easy to end life than starting a new start. With her their was an end of an ambitious future air hostess, along with her, the dreams of her Ammu of her being the most beautiful bride died . Angelic sister’s role model and her best companion died. Now her bald father’s pride was just corpse. Her lean best friend lost her favourite person in the world. No more the cotton pocket would be filled with beautiful letters, no one will visit those seven wonders of the world.
Hanging on her orchid fan, with wide open eyes and blue feet and hands ,Sonali’s pale, parched lips had smile maybe she was right, this life hadn’t given her pleasure to live but it was much of the pain she suffered.
What if she would had decided the either way?? What if she would shown the world that she can survive along with those permanent scars in life… What if she would decide to live for her dreams, for her Ammu, for her angelic sister, for her bald father or lean but food obsessed friend. What if she have tried to be as winner than quitter.