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#This is just my POV of what Indira must be thinking after each day's episode, I'd try to do it everyday...😛
Who said fairy-tales do not exist?
Of course they do, but only the first part. All fairy-tales started with the same concept, a girl in trouble, fighting her way through life. It happens all the time, in those fairy-tales, in the movies, in the serials...but then the author gets stuck in the middle and can't find a way out of it. As in real life those problems don't have permanent solutions. So, they fix things up dramatically because the story has to end, and who loves a story without happy ending?
That's the difference between stories and lives. Story finished, book closed, the end. But life must go on.
My name is Indira Sharma, you might have heard about me if you've ever ventured Chadni Chowk. Have you ever heard the name Hitler while enjoying a Kulfi? If you have, well, that's me. I've a feeling that Mandira has a hand in making that name so familiar, well, it doesn't bother me. They can call me whatever they like.
And if you've never been to Chadni Chowk, don't worry. Look out of your window, or in the street while you travel, or maybe in the mirror to see your own reflection. You'd find Indira there.
My nephew Ishaan always say that he doesn't know why sun comes out in Chadni Chowk and I don't know why alarm clocks were invented. I, myself, never felt the need of it. The alarming call of duty is enough to wake me up every morning. The same things happen everyday, it's the same old pattern. Wake up, get ready, wash clothes, hang them, wake Ishaan up, get his breakfast ready, poke the bubbles of daydreams that my whole family seem to live in. Bhabi is always day-dreaming about food, Bhaisaab about winning a lot of money. Ma can't stop herself from worshiping the photograph of a man who left her for someone else. How pathetic! And don't get me started about Mandira. That reminds me, I need to go and check on her, I believe she's having something with the next-door boy who often wears a check shirt and fails in each exam he sits.
It's actually the same old story everyday with different titles. I sometimes feel so fed up with all of them. But I can't do anything about that, they might hate Hitler all they want but this Hitler can never let go of her responsibilities. Why? I don't know, maybe that's just me.
They say I never smile or laugh. Well, have you ever seen a sponge exposed in the sun? It soaks all the water you pour on it. My heart has become a sponge created from the hatred and anguish I felt when my father left us, exposed to the heat of the worry of daily expenses. You can come and try pouring every kind of fun on me, my sponge of a heart would absorb them inside.
Who said fairy-tales does not exist? Of course it exists, just wait until the author of my life decides to pull some strings from above. That day I'll laugh too, I don't know when, why, how. But one day, I'd...you would hear the laughter of Hitler, nah, Indira ringing throughout whole Delhi.
But right now I've got to find a way to cover that 12000 rupees I had to pay to municipality. I'd do that to, because, as I said earlier, life has to go on and it would go on...
Anupamaa
Cricket
