Short Story 2017 Featured Nabanita Sengupta
The Monster
The arrogant summer sun exploded into a hundred pieces and Raya swayed like a wooden doll with an eroded base. Her hands gripped a human arm before she lost all consciousness. After all how much could a ten year old bear.
Drifting in and out of her consciousness, Raya vaguely heard human voices, conversing in Hindi. She was comforted, at least it was not the den of those infant devouring kuchche khao (Gobble you up raw) shouting monsters! They surely won't speak in a known tongue, the language of her family and friends! For Raya, languages signified familiarity and that meant a zone of comfort to her mind still unexposed to the sordidness of this world. Her subconscious mind alleviated her tension, assuring that familiarity of tongue meant a certain level of association, that she was among human beings like her own self, even if strangers. So, even now, when she felt closest to peril in her pursuit of the kuchche khaos, she drew comfort from the familiar language that she could hear and immediately fell into another round of slumber brought upon by an exhausted physical and mental state.
A skinny hand caressing her forehead woke her up. As she parted her eyelids, first in a hairline gap, and then gradually wider, the greyish white wall of the room in which she was lying down at that time, with its dense cobwebs and multiple cracks revealed squalor to her child’s eyes that was till that point only acquainted with the middle class mode of existence. Slowly, she adjusted her eyes to the dim light of the room and sharpened her gaze. An old woman with numerous wrinkles, which told stories of her long and poverty stricken existence, was sitting near her head and moving her long, thin fingers along her forehead. As soon as she felt Raya stirring into consciousness, she offered her a glass of water.
The arrogant summer sun exploded into a hundred pieces and Raya swayed like a wooden doll with an eroded base. Her hands gripped a human arm before she lost all consciousness. After all how much could a ten year old bear.
Drifting in and out of her consciousness, Raya vaguely heard human voices, conversing in Hindi. She was comforted, at least it was not the den of those infant devouring kuchche khao (Gobble you up raw) shouting monsters! They surely won't speak in a known tongue, the language of her family and friends! For Raya, languages signified familiarity and that meant a zone of comfort to her mind still unexposed to the sordidness of this world. Her subconscious mind alleviated her tension, assuring that familiarity of tongue meant a certain level of association, that she was among human beings like her own self, even if strangers. So, even now, when she felt closest to peril in her pursuit of the kuchche khaos, she drew comfort from the familiar language that she could hear and immediately fell into another round of slumber brought upon by an exhausted physical and mental state.
A skinny hand caressing her forehead woke her up. As she parted her eyelids, first in a hairline gap, and then gradually wider, the greyish white wall of the room in which she was lying down at that time, with its dense cobwebs and multiple cracks revealed squalor to her child’s eyes that was till that point only acquainted with the middle class mode of existence. Slowly, she adjusted her eyes to the dim light of the room and sharpened her gaze. An old woman with numerous wrinkles, which told stories of her long and poverty stricken existence, was sitting near her head and moving her long, thin fingers along her forehead. As soon as she felt Raya stirring into consciousness, she offered her a glass of water.
To read what happens to Raya next, read it in
https://www.wordweavers.in/2017/09/short-story-2017-featured-nabanita.html?m=1
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