Fate of Innocence
“IT IS THE FATE OF INNOCENTS TO SUFFER”- Virginia Woolf
She use to catch the morning metro from Noida city center. He boards from Rithala and both intersect each other at Kashmiri Gate. The love that was building under the colossal city infrastructure was seem to be forbidden by the one section. She wore hijab for some apparent reason and he wore a sacred thread around his shoulder, again, for some apparent reason. Apart from the different festivals that they celebrate, they share a lot in common. She was an apple to his eyes and an apple of discord to his family. Whereas her parents were AMU liberals, had many hindu friends, who were liberal too. So it was clearly one sided issue. A city which allowed them to meet and share a roasted corn stick on the corner street of Connaught place, didn’t expected to see their blood intermixing under the collision of faith, but it was the result of their inevitable fate, that could have altered with a little less bitterness.
It was nine in the morning when it took place. They left their houses at seven in the morning and reached Kashmiri gate. The day was Monday, rushed office workers who passed by them were too busy witnessing the last night episode of god knows which tv serial on their mobile screens, that they forgot to look around and acknowledge the beauty of sky, that the morning was depicting. He caught a glimpses of her, filtering in between the rushing public. For him the time stopped whenever he looked at her, for her the heart skipped many beats. Today she was wearing his favorite earrings and he was wearing the t shirt that she had gifted him on his birthday. Her glittering eyes, sticked to his, holding hands they found a peaceful spot on platform number 3 where cctv cameras had no surveillance. She offered him a Prantha that she had made for him, this morning, she knew it was his favorite. He skipped his breakfast just to taste her handmade food, as the first thing in the morning. It was seven forty five, they had no idea what the people, who called themselves the enemy of lovers were conspiring behind the back plot of their simple story, they had no idea that they will be lying cold and motionless on the same street where they usually sit for hours, holding hands, talking about contemporary politics, supporting and revolting the present government, arguing and end up kissing each other’s dry lips, then sat silently for some time.
“The cold Paranthas taste even better” He said picking one more out of her lunch.
“You are saying that because, you never had a hot one” She said
“May be” He said stuffing his mouth with a quarter of the prantha.
“Samar” she said in a serious tone “till when we will meet like this?”
He felt the depth of her question instantly, and that reminded him, the conversation that he had with his father last night.
“A Muslim girl, what do you mean by that?” said his father
“Where did I lost you” he had said angrily.
“ You are out of your mind Samar, what will the party say, they were about to give me the tickets for assembly election” said the father who was all ready to set his foot, firm and strong, in the upcoming elections.
“Why it’s always about you and the party, what about me?” he had asked
“Mishra ji had asked for you, he’s daughter is completing her graduation next month, your mother likes her very much, forgot that Muslim girl beta ji” the father said in a calm voice giving stress on Beta ji.
“Samar, what are you thinking” she interrupted his reverie.
“Give me some time, please” He said without looking at her.
“I don’t think I could handle my parents any longer, they are contacting relatives in order to find a suitable match.” She said.
“You have told them about us right?” He asked
“Yes but you remember their condition right, they wanted to meet your family” she said
“Yes.. yes .. I remember”, “lets run away” he said after some silence.
She looked at him, “we had this conversation, I can’t do this to my parents”
A less revolting attitude of daughter, depicts a positive culture of upbringing. But what about life, unpredictable life? Would she have said the same thing if she knew that she will be lying in a morgue for the next 48 hours just because no doctor is available for the autopsy in Safdurjung Hospital as they all were busy in blowing trumpet under the reign of the great Gujarati Prime Minister. May be not. But that’s what happened.
“let’s go out” He said.
“Yeah, let’s go to Akshardham” She said, holding his hand.
“No I don’t wanna go there, let’s go to CP and have some milkshake.” he said.
“Umm Milkshake” she said in childish voice.
He smiled and kissed her cheeks.
The rushing public of Rajiv Chowk Metro station were in constant hurry to achieve hardly anything constructive. They were blindfolded with materialistic component that they thought could build them a better human being but they were indeed wrong about it. In between this rushing robots, there were some birds that own antithesis perspective. They were among those. They didn’t believe in breaking stereotypes but they were against creating one. The philosophy of reserving judgment could lead to infinite hope, that’s what her father had taught her, but as he was born in more orthodox setup couldn’t rely faith on it, unless called for.
After taking two butterscotch milkshake they found a spot in the adjacent narrow lane of Revoli, where hardly anyone passes by. They finished their drink and sat silently for some time.
“What do you think, we do next?” He asked
“I don’t know” She said and passed onto his shoulder like a tired traveler finds a pillow after a months of travelling.
“What if my parents denied” He asked.
She looked into his glossy eyes and find her reflection smudging and flickering. He looked into her eyes, her big shiny eyes molded with mascara brows that aroused his fidelity towards her and the face that could never be forgotten.
The saviors emerged into the narrow lane, with their vedic era weapons. They enchanted coherently. Used their weapons brutally on the innocents. The careless public gathered around with their smart cameras that recorded videos of pooling blood from every possible angles. None took action or came forward. The saviors sublimed like acetone. Police arrived late like always. The bodies were send for autopsy. The blood pool was cleaned by local people, the place was fresh like ever.
There right in that narrow lane He sat with her in his arms.
“What do you say we do now” He said looking into her eyes.
“I think we take a walk” She said.
They didn’t move.
Thousands of people are dying every year because of increasing polarization between different community. Hate crimes, communal riots and honor killing must be condemned by every section of the society. People must stand against such evil.