Posted:
I am putting this down as a piece of essay writing. In school, we used to be given an outline of a story which we had to expand and write in our own words. Consider this to be one such assignment where Friday's episode was the loose outline. This is not Kranti's POV. This is not to support her either. This is not to run down the hero. Not at all. This is just a story and treat it as reading material only. Of course your comments are most welcome.
Kranti was travelling by the family car to meet her mamaji. She was actually going to meet ther KKs. Her husband had found out about her secret messages to her friends and she was convinced that he was on their trail. She knew he would do anything for his father and the gori sarkar. He had been shadowing her for a couple of days and was at times behaving in an understanding manner. This raised doubts in her. Why was he peeping through the curtains? Why was he being nice to her? What was he upto?
She now realised that he may play the informer for the British. She had heard him so on the phone. In her haste to reach the spot of activity, she slipped and fell. Out of nowhere her husband came and saved her from being crushed under the tempo. She was a bit unnerved and winded from the roll. She was about to thank him. Was she wrong to consider him a swine? Just then a posse of cops came on the scene. Her eyes narrowed. This was a trap after all. She needed time. She wanted her KK friends to get time to escape. So she concocted some story to set the Britishers off the track.
Her husband was going to face the ire of the Brits. Let him. She didn't care. He deserved it. When he returned that evening, he was in a rage. She was happy. He had lost on both fronts. His reputation was in th dumps with the govt and with her too. She found victory sweet and rubbed it in. He didn't like the taste of defeat. But then, did anyone? He was always the one to crush, so when he was crushed he couldn't take it. He threw her clothes in a suitcase and told her to leave the house. He could tell her that because the RB had gone and so had his place with the Brits.
She stood her ground and wouldn't go. So he pulled her by the arm and dragged her down the steps. He yelled at her to get lost and stay out of the house. He threw her down along with her suitacse. She lifted herself up. Tears welled up in her eyes. Why was it that she had to face humiliation over and over again? Her aunt had sold her out for money to the highes bidder. Now her husband had sold her out to the goras. She wasn't afraid of death. She knew she would do anything for her country. Why had she ever tried to think that he was different now?
She wouldn't be played around with any more. She sucked in her breath. She wouldn't cry any more. It was the death of her hope in man. Life was a game of power and money. She wanted no part in such a game. She would go her way. She would live a life that she wanted. The way her parents had lived. She didn't want to think of her husband or his family. She didn't want any encumberences anymore. What was family anyway? She lifted herself to her feet and took a step forward. Her feet were trembling. But she was brave. She slowly walked to the door. She didn't look back. Looking back would be yearning. What was there to yearn for in this house? She didn't want to take anything with her.
She opened the door. There was a new world waiting for her outside. She would begin her new life. Tomorrow was another day. Now she would look for a better life in a free India.
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