Khushi

The street lights were flickering, revealing the dull silhouettes of a slum landscape, the sirens of the fire engine and ambulance blared through the cold and suffocating silence of the fateful night. Amidst the babble of an excited and anxious crowd, who pulled us out of the debris of metal and concrete, I saw those sad eyes on that dust smeared unclean face.

A rag doll in hand, she disappeared round the corner like in a dream. The pain and panic numbed me as I lost consciousness. It drizzled through out the night. I woke up to find Shravan by my side, his face cast in a shadow of gloom. I understood, but I did not cry...my womb was Kushi's cradle. She needed no lullabies, for she never woke up again. Days later, as Shravan and I stepped out of the Shraddha Child Care home, clinging onto our fingers was the six year old, holding a rag doll in her hand...Khushi's laughter filled the happy little space we called our 'home'.