Sivi slept well but not for long. She dreamt that she was frantically running around in unfamiliar places, though she quite didn't learn why. She just kept on running and running and running - up stairs, across fields, up inclined roads.Only later, a couple of hours after waking up did she remember that in the end she ran to save herself. Someone had been discretely following her, tracing her exact path only a few metres behind in the dark.
Earlier that week, a six year old had been raped brutally and hanged to death. The maid who used to come and help Sivi's mother with chores around the house had told her about this incident.
Mrs.Mytla kept true to all the observations Sivi had previously made, poorly matched clothes and no evident attention payed to her appearance that morning, as always. She looked the same, no visible out bursting emotion. The same Mrs.Mytla, who wore a white spot of sentimental Indian vibbuti and a red bindi on her forehead, a thin black strapped gold rimmed watch, and a smile that could possibly make someone's day. But then, her smile got lost for some moments.
The boys in Sivi's class were like any of the other teenage boys who craved attention and to be remembered as humorous and nonchalant by everybody they knew. So in their usual self, that day, their strategy to be recognised was howling as the class teacher entered the class. It wasn't a preplanned strategy but Sivi quite audaciously hated them for being so unthoughtful.
As Mrs.Mytla entered her classroom after the morning prayer assembly, one of the boys howled ,and many hooted and made a ruckus. The hooting and making noise was part of the everyday schedule for the students' insincerity. But the howling, Mrs.Mytla felt was way out of line and uncalled for. This upseted her more than anyone had anticipated. She made all the boys stand up and demanded the name of the boy who howled, incessantly but only in dismay. It perplexed her why the howl had erupted such intense emotion in her.Just in one of those many moments of her emotional out burst, a beam of light revealed her glistening eyes, glassy and teary almost. Sivi noticed the eyes and the undetectably small choking on words. She felt such strong hatred towards the boy who had howled that if she knew who did it, she would have told Mrs.Mytla breaking almost the most crucial rule of being a student. Sticking together as students against the dictator equivalent preachers.
Just then, Mrs.Mytla's smile returned in taste of her ever going but unknown conquest of promoting only positive energies, Sivi thought.
YOU ARE READING
Entwined Lives
Roman pour AdolescentsEntwined in a single life from two different times, Mytla and Sivi. Soul mates. Not in the sense prevalent. Their fate was written to oblige their elders. Instead they wrote their own eventful, fulfilling life of regret and happiness.
