Saturday, March 5, 2011

Change

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton Season 2 edition 18; the eighteenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.


The leaves change to a daunting hue of red. The sun ceases to appear. There is a dull, sullen feeling in the atmosphere, as if it were grieving for Aiesha's grief. The clouds spread like a shroud over Aiesha's dead spirit, the fighting spirit, that her nana referred to as. Well, nana was dead long back. From the pampered, over protective child that Aiesha had been, her life changed, so starkly, it left her abandoned, with nowhere to go. The family didn't stick around, not anymore. The last she heard about them, was when, she learnt about nana's death, a fortnight after she eloped with Steve. But that was 5 years ago. Nana was dead, so was papa, and Steve, has eloped, again.
Aiesha did not like the automn in Montreal [Mo-ray-aal like her French teacher would say]. It was a dull, deploring sight. Everywhere she went, the grey clouds would follow her, until they'd dampen her very spirit. People seemed more morose then usual, all in their raincoats, and hushed voices. Rain made Aiesha very unpleasant. It reminded her of the tears, the tears she shed when nana had locked her in the house refusing to allow her meet Steve, the tears her mum might have shed when she eloped, the tears she shed when she heard of papa's death, and then nana's subsequently, the tears that dried inside her, when Steve had eloped, again.


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The chill had begun to set in by November. Aiesha hated the winters, the snow. It was white everywhere, and Aiesha hated white. It reminded her of the white shroud that covered papa's and nana's bodies. The freeze in the air made her feel alone, made her conscious of the absence of Steve's strong arms. Aiesha 's house didn't have good heating and all those days when she'd lie on bed, all covered in a ball, even the tears would freeze. Marie, her neighbour had said long ago that Steve wasn't coming back any time again. But she wouldn't understand, Aiesha was Indian. It wouldn't be the same again for her, taking the kid in the crib back to the house. And she held a lot of esteem to accept her defeat that way. She couldn't go, not anywhere.


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Spring was such an ideal name for the season of the same name. There was literally a spring in the air. Little kids running around, crowded gardens, the clear blue skies. But Aiesha didn't like the spring. It made her conscious of everybody's happiness, and her impending grief. Her loneliness. Her desperation. For Aiesha wasn't a regular Montreal [Mo-ray-aal] mother who could take her daughter for spring games. Her daughter lay in the crib, since the last 2 years. For Aiesha spring was when her daughter's cheerful gurgle filled the air. That would choke her, make her want to lift the baby in the air, jolt her to the skies, but what if she broke? The baby was so sensitive, that Aiesha couldn't risk picking her up. The kid had to lie, in waiting, for her father, for her limbs, for a sudden death.


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People had started feeling the heat, like Marie would say year after year, "Il fait très chaud, si cela continue, je fondrai" [It's so hot, if this continues, I will melt]. But well, there was no Marie to say this to her this year, she left, forever to her son. Aiesha didn't like the summers, there was so much of the heat, it made her uncomfortable. The baby wouldn't stop crying, to top it all. Aiesha had to work for longer hours, and managing the baby, would cost her many a odd jobs. Aiesha was in need of change.


The world was changing. Seasons fused into each other. Marie had moved out. Buildings had come up in place of swamps. But Aiesha was stuck. In that one moment, when Steve had eloped with someone else, leaving her a very brittle and sensitive child to look after. All the sacrifices had seemed wasted, in that one defining moment. Aiesha hated all of them, seasons. Aiesha hated the sadness, the happiness of others. Everything around her reminded her of her grief, of her frozen tears. Aiesha was stuck in time, while the world kept changing.




The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

14 comments:

Saket Dabi said...

I hope she finds her happiness some season coming fall :). nice crisp and emotional .

The Fool said...

Interesting - conncetion seasons to the emotions felt by the protaganist.

Nikita said...

Seasons and emotions are somehow related and you brought out this fact beautifully here..

hugs...

Md. Muddassir Shah said...

An entirely different take from the rest of the blogs on the topic. Nice one Meher.

You have an amazing blog :)
Kudos

Koo said...

"Stuck in time while the world kept changing."
Wonderful :)

Saket Dabi said...

I forgot to mention one thing , I really like the way you wrote your "about me " description ! Random yet pattern.

Amropali said...

it is hard to let go of things that hit us the hardest, inspite of the hurt.

Sometimes self-pity overwhelms us.

Aiesha is a very relate-able character.

Best of luck for the contest.

Someone is Special said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Someone is Special said...

I loved it to the core.. a beautiful piece, particularly the last line is awesome.. Great.. Smiles, mine is what most people feel in their heart but no one acts to achieve it, Change

Someone is Special

Aashish Sood said...

At times felt the description was so randomly vague and still something was there which was holding the flow together... u did succeed in painting a bleak world, dark landscape... I just hope that gets some lucky break and lives better!

Lost in thoughts said...

she will also change like the seasons...:)

Splatters Of Ink said...

beautifully written. It made me stop and go through a few paragraphs again. A job well done. =)

Pratibha The Talent said...

Seasons change but never felt the way you have written,beautiful!!.I loved the selection of words too.

Sweta said...

you are very good with words...
small but emotional story...
best of luck for BAT !