15/01/2016
That Girl in Blue Frock
He was right there with a prospect of exultant raindrops across the windowpane with a sample of rotten cloth lying on the cracked hands of shattered life, when I gazed at him in the civilized posture of upright shoulders and sanguine eyes. The desperate climate of fierce autumn encompassed winds that left the sound of slamming doors echo in yellow empty walls of the giant mansion. Entering into the house, when I first stepped into the hall at the ground floor, the sight I received was alluring because of entrancingly arranged interiors of exquisite lamps, artistic pots and white furnished tiles, yet it exhaled a despondent sigh of distrust like a lacunae within it persisted since forever. Deep inside, the house screamed to expose a peculiar agony it was encountering. I proceeded with a dejected feeling onto the staircase concealed in the royalty of a red carpet accompanied with an iron railing. Room after room, with the notebook and pen in my hands, I went on but the vacuum of the house made me feel like I'm leading nowhere. The house was reticent like the moon-fall on serene sea and muffled into a blanket of collapse. As I peeped into a dark room at the end which evidently proved some kind of crashing peace into hollowness, the moonlight that fell on its window emitted his presence when I realized that he was right there. His bare feet were placed on the ground like they promised never to walk again, his hands rested on the handle of the rocking chair as lifeless as a dead arm and his face turned glaring towards the road and the trees as if he analysed the whole universe in those minuscule areas. He was sunk into thoughts so deeply that he be-toned into ignorance of my arrival and even my move of switching on the lights. I dragged another chair to get seated right in front of him as I prepared to begin. “ She was my world and they turned it into the biggest catastrophe of universe” he surprisingly uttered. I attempted to commence the conversation, “Umm... Sir, This is...”. “ She wore a blue dress and exclaimed; “Daddy Do I seem to be a plum”; And I was unable to express exactly how resplendent she looked so I just said; “My Royal Princess, U look incomparably beautiful”; and she stepped out of this house”. I decided not to interrupt and so he spoke further, “ Through this very window I saw her at the footpath in her elegant glittering frock, with her perky girlfriends giggling and strolling, It was certainly a casual birthday party two houses away from ours and my generous Sophia was praised for the type of companions she always chose to have”... intense silence prevailed for a little while as he paused with a gasp of air exhaling through his chapped lips... and he continued, “ Who knew I will see my daughter the last time that day. She was abducted, scratched, afflicted, r***d and harassed ruthlessly the very next hour and there I was watching my news show merrily, oblivious of what grief she was confronting with.” As his voice broke, his tears left a vivid streak on his pale cheeks, “The investigation is on without any optimistic scope but how does that even matter. How will the court's decision bring my baby alive back in my hands. What wrong she did to them.. what wrong will any 8 year old sackless girl do to anybody?” Perceiving his story built up an inexpressive ailment in my heart because I witnessed the condition of a father who has lost his daughter specially when she was his only hope to survive and for merely no reason. Those boundless dreams she had, ceased not when she died but when she was vexed ruthlessly. Though the words and the story could be conveyed into a paper but the feelings of a broken heart dispiritedly beating, will remain deep within the soul of that father, unsaid forever.
