AWTBL-Someday!Chp12(A). pg75. Jan28. - Page 2

Hey loved d prolonge
N yes d name is fab a wish to be loved someday.
U said dark stories
Superb becoz i m big fan of dark stories
Update soon
Eageely waiting for d part1.
Pm me

Mini you have all the support from us..!!!

Bring it on ... I want to read ur awesome story-telling skills for some ragna story 😃

Hi Mini...story seems interesting n loved d title

Love the plot. Looking fwd to reading more... Is it going to be in first person or third person?

Eagerly waiting for your update.

Prologue

Tears had already started smarting my eyes as I try to get up. I make an attempt to stand up, and feel the piercing pain in the insides of my palms. My breath is caught in my throat and I turn to look at the wetness on my hands. It was bloody. Blood was oozing out from the cuts, with splinters and grit sticking all over. Some of the splinters were sharp enough to cut through my layers of dermis and pinch on my bones. But I did not have the time to look at my palms. I was more worried about my dress. I got up and dusted my dull and gray frock. My frock was once a pretty powder pink color that Paakhi had gifted me. She had worn it on her 10th birthday and when she did not want to wear it anymore she had given the frock to me. It was very sweet of her to remember that I had loved it on her. So what if it looks gray and dirty now. It was a very pretty pink dress once and that thought is enough for me. Whenever I wear it, I imagine I am a pink princess in my own palace.

I try to walk away but my knees hurt too and I look down. My old wounds have not healed yet and I have again hurt myself. But I did not have the time to look at it right now.

My amma still stood hovering over me. Her eyes bulging and spewing fire at me. Sometimes, I wonder if she is my real amma. Is this how a mother is suppose to behave?

Paakhi's aai is not like mine. She loves to buy Paakhi new dresses, bakes muffins for her and reads stories at night. Why, doesn't my amma do any of those? Is it my fault that we are poor?

I have read in school about a different kind of mother. A mother who is kind, who loves all her children and cooks for them, sews new clothes, tells stories, gives kisses to her children and sings lullabies. But, I have never experienced such amma's love in my life.

Instead, all I know about a mother is that she shakes you out of bed at 5am, and makes you put the kettle for black tea on the gas. Then orders to pick up all the empty water containers and buckets to fill from the tanker outside. Our house does not have water pipes because my parents cannot afford to pay for water connection anymore. Then I come back and milk the cow so that my little brother can have some milk. I am not allowed to have milk but I have tasted when I go to milk the cow. Then I swipe the floors clean and get the wheat dough ready to make rotis for my Baba.

Once, all the morning chores are done, only then I am allowed to get ready for school. Thats why, somedays I forget to have breakfast. But, I often pick one or two cucumbers from the garden on my way out. Sometimes, I have the time to go till the guava tree so then I have something for lunch too. I love guavas.

I try to stay out of the house as much as possible but then I remember that my little brother would be waiting for me so I run back to see him. Who would look after him, if I don't reach home on time?

Baba does not have the time to take care of him because either he is down at the market or working in the fields. Aai goes to work at the Singhania mansion when she is not busy with the sewing machine.

She is very good at sewing and so the tailor took pity on her and gives her some extra works which is good because then she has less time to scream at me.

I rush back home to get the evening meal ready and help my little brother, Keshav clean up and munch on some stale bread. Once the kitchen work are done I can sit down to study. Often I go to Paakhi's place to study. Her aai likes us to study together because Paakhi has started doing better in class since we have started our group studies. But, I do not like her brother Prem. He does not say anything in front of others but he is always trying to corner me alone and is mean to me. He says bad things about my face, my clothes and my skin. I am little scared of him. But, I will not be scared when I grow up and become a strong girl.

I stand up to look at my mom worried that she will be mad at me for tripping and spoiling the tomatoes. I am also sad about spoiling my frock too. But, I see her smile instead. I should be relieved that she is smiling but instead my heart beats faster and I feel nervous.

I see Raghav standing just a few feet away, looking at me with concerned eyes.

He is 17 years old, The Boy's Captain of my school. I am 11 years old and I study in VI grade. He must find me so childish and silly. He just witnessed how clumsy I was. I recoil in embarrassment.

Shyly, I look up at him. He only looks at me very seriously and asks in a concerned tone. "Are you alright?"

He spoke to me, The Singhania boy! I am tongue tied. And I hear amma quickly say, "She is always tumbling and crashing into things. What can I do for you, Chote saab?"

Still looking at me Raghav replies, "mom, called you. There's some leftovers from the party."

My mom rushes inside the house to pick up some carry bags. And, I see Raghav come towards me. He puts his hand inside his pockets and takes out a chocolate bar. Then he takes out the pen from his upper pocket. Together he gives it to me. "Here take this. Chocolate to heal your wounds."

I look up at him and ask, "Pen too?"

"Yes, because education is very important for you."

Thank You friends. Loved writing this story. Hope you enjoy it. This will be a serious read. Romance not coming up anytime soon. Hope you will support my 'flight of Imagination'.

And do LIKE, LOVE and give me your feedback.

Your feedback will help me work harder at the story.

wow wat an emotional prologue love the last part rag gifting kalpi

OH...MY...GOD...

Nice prologue. Pls continue soon.