Ittefaq

Chapter 2

Do we really have any control over our destiny? Can we really change the script where we've been assigned to act accordingly, since the moment we were born ? Or is it fixed even before we're born ? Some will argue by saying we make our own destiny, even if it is not fully wrong, is it even fully correct? Someone once said, destiny, kismat or whatever you call it is like a musical instrument, a certain kind of instrument is already given to us but what music you'll play in it , with it..is in your hand. So choose wisely. Because some music has changed the world. It can be yours as well.

It's been one month since she's been in this new place, a place which she found accidentally that night. The night that still brings shivers to her spine. The escape that still petrifies her. The loss, for which her soul cries, every night. But she's grateful. She can't help but be grateful. She tried to become angry at life, after what happened. The terrible past memories forced her to see a lot of things at a quiet young age, which she didn't deserve, but this is a fact about life, it isn't a series of acts of just nor does it care about justifications. She tried to rage and be wrathful, but everytime she tried, she failed miserably. The carefree, lively, jaunty self that still lives within her acted against the savagery. So her attempt of being cruel at life has dimed. She understands that the happenings of life are not in one's own hand but choices are ours to make, so even if she can't change the course of her life she can still be hopeful. Hopeful , for the things which are yet to be disclosed and be revealed..the untold. And this is the thing about hope. It hardly dies.

One month back on the train,

Are sun rahi ho.. Ticket checker araha hai, zara tickets nikal ke rakhna main dekh k aata hu.

Comes a manly voice in addressing the arrival of the ticket checker towards a certain unidentified entity. An instantaneous hustle and bustle is spread throughout the kamra of the train over the appearance of the ticket taker. A slow and lazy hum rolled out in the air. Lights are getting on. People started to talk in murmured voices. A loud shrieking cry of a baby is heard at some distance.

Unaware of the sudden energy in the air she woke up from her little nap. Confusion itched on her forehead. Her heart started to pump fast. Fingers fidgeting. Eyes growing big with fear of an unknown realisation. She decided to ask the kind lady, sitting next to her. For whom she didn't have to spend the night dieing out of starvation. For whom she still believed in almighty.

Didi kya ho raha hai ? Sabhi..

She asked with all the little voice that she's left with.

Didi woh Ticket Checker araha hai na. Isliye ticket nikal ke rakh rahe hai sab...ap bhi apna nikal ke rakhiye

All the blood left her face leaving her face pale as snow. She's running away from her evil past. Just yesterday yet it was her past. She didn't want to make it her present. So she ran away with all the help she could gather from her friend . She ran away with her life with just a few pairs of clothes. That's it. She has no money. She never had. Her father was the sole earner. She lived all her life even below the poverty line. But they were happy. She was happy. Her father taught her to dream big. Every time she's pushed down. She stood up with a dream even bigger than the previous one. She is taught not to stop. May what comes.

Ticket.. ticket..

She heard a voice somewhere nearer. Her fluid ran cold down her spine. Mind blank. The horror of getting caught, for something really offendable, is written all over her face. If eyes are windows to our souls then one can see through the cracking windows,how her soul is agitated, terrorized. But is it really her fault? Or does anybody really care? Again she's remembered of the cruel reality she is all alone in the vast world. All alone. Not that she ever had a family, but she had her 'baba'. Who's gone now, rather butchered heinously. A bill in her throat choked her.

The slowing pace of the train brought her out of her reverie. She looked out of the window. All she saw was light. Light after the darkness. Once again life has unfolded its course infront of her pleading eyes. She realised her destination had arrived. She got up with a sudden halt. It's time to go. To let go.

Beta zindagi sabko mauka deti hai. Sirf tum aankhein band mat karo. Aur uss shakhsiyat pe bharosa rakho. Rasta apne aap se niklega.

Her father's voice is all she could hear, rather is all she chose to hear, because there are a thousand voices screaming at the mind, telling her against it. Denying every other voice she chose to give her life another chance. Another prospect. Another possibility. And this time she is serving her faith in her fate. She's giving away herself in the hands of destiny. The hands of the creator.

Ignoring all the inquisitive eyes, looking at her with the subject of interest she moves past all of them. Coming in front of the door of the train she waited for the doom. Closing her eyes, all she could see was the blackness. No, not totally blackness rather, a pair of black eyes. The same black eyes, which spread away an uncomfortable warmth through her body.

Train came to its stop. It's time. Time to let go. Time to begin the script. Script of her destiny. Because her destination is just a step away.

Madam aapka tic...

She jumped down on the platform. A single ray of the sun appeared on the skyline, it is obvious that in a few hours it is going to be a bright day.

Looking around , her eyes got stuck on the nameplate of the station, it read,

'Dharamsala'
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A filler chapter.

I hope to find you in my stories too ❤️