~PLACID~

PROLOGUE

She walked down the dusty and crowded lane of the city to avoid the traffic so as to reach her home early. 'Her home' (pun intended). Even an alien to a place after a substantial lapse of time merged into the distant folks as his own.

Tightly clad in a burqa she glanced at her surroundings through the black veil. Some men at the street corner ogled at her. They are those swarm of bees who don't need to be disturbed to come out. Without paying much attention she walked her way. Even a diamond on the road resembled a stone.

Many roadside vendors were on their daily job of selling fruits, vegetables, corn and flowers. A grocery store which now was flooded with people. The crowd was an evidence of the offer that any company must have introduced on its product. Buy 2 get 1 free was not new. Despite the mob and a daily earning the owner seemed to be stingy enough to even renovate his own shop. The plaster was out showcasing the brickwork.

The shop wouldn't stand in a seismic zone anytime. In that case, you might see people dialling all helplines and the disaster managers helping everyone rehabilitate.

See that's the irony!!! You call that as a home but once gone what remains? Catastrophes are better that way, at least they make everybody homeless. But what about a selective individual who's happened to be abandoned?

Even after knowing the bitter truth of calamities and the aftermath homo sapiens have got the incredible talent of remembering the age of the settlement we live in.

The wooden doors, the rustic lanes, the faded buildings are considered as the cues of its era of existence.

She takes a look at the articles that the hawker sells. It was her habit to glance the things and not buy. "Checking out things never costs anything" is the platinum rule one must follow while shopping or no shopping.

A red headed lady was seen arguing with a fellow at the roadside when some onlookers poked their leaky noses into the matter.

"You are taking it cheap"

"Its the right price"

"You are fooling me"

"50 is right ma'am"

"No I should get at least 60"

"Its junk. Why to care so much?", he yelled.

"Then why are you buying the crap?", the lady joined in giving a proof of the notes that her voice box can really try.

Her shrill was enough to push the junk dealer to the next stop.

The intelligent of the intelligent fools can count on such dichotomous behaviour of humans. First they bargain for a low price then after a few years the priorities change.

The way to her house was simple. Take the first lane which is at 90° to the main road. As you walk the path till the dead end take the right turn. Now take the first turn to the left and you find yourself standing in front of a two storeyed faded building. The door is made up of wood damaged by termites. If you are wondering as to why is she not knocking the door then glance sideways to the left and you find a staircase in the small passage adjacent to the main door.

She climbs the wooden steps. Unfortunately the small box heels of her sandals make the "tuk tuk" sound till she reaches the top. As your ears are relieved of the sound she opens the door and you may get a clear view of her room.

Its a single room with a cot placed near the wall that faces the door. There's a black coloured blanket and a white pillow on the bed covered with a pink bed sheet.

As you turn to your left you find an old cupboard with a mirror on one of its side door.

There's an earthen pot of water at the corner of the wall opposite to the one where the cot is placed. Adjacent to it lies a stove and a small rack of vessels and some grocery items.

The room has a brown ceiling fan. She switches it on tired of the temperature. How much ever you regulate it the fan runs on the same speed.

The veil is lifted up and she stares at the reflection in the mirror. The girl has a fair complexion with a mole on the upper lip. She is gifted with a scar on the left side of her forehead as a childhood memory.

She takes off the burqa to caress her six month baby bump.

Welcome to the world of silence, the world of questions, the world of Duha Thakur.