Promise of a home

Divya was forced to change trains and somehow managed to reach Mughalsarai past midnight, another hour max by road to her college hostel in Varanasi. But there was nothing to travel by!

Just when she had lost hope, a car stopped right in front of her and offered her a lift. Sharat was a man of medium built in his late 20s or so, dark tan with sharp features – his eyes were deep set and attractive with a bemused look in them.

Sharat turned his glance at her momentarily, she felt embarrassed for staring at him and mumbled, “Why are you traveling such late at night?”

“I have to keep traveling.” Sharat said nonchalantly.

“Why?” Divya asked wide-eyed.

“It is a story you don’t want to hear.” Sharat gave her another glance and her heart skipped a beat.

“Try me.” She could barely speak.

“Well, I was just 7 when they first came over and laid me – I was bruised and torn. I screamed and cried.” Sharat said cocking his head to a side.

“I was a rather beautiful creature and my father sold me – night after night - to get his booze. My mother had died giving birth to me and my father never forgave me for that. I wanted to run away but didn’t have the courage to. I had no friends, no one to turn to. It was an endless pit and I was sinking, my soul was broken, my body was shattered and my heart – don’t think that tender me had any left - by the time I turned 10, I had decided to somehow kill myself. I focused on planning the end, procuring the materials like baygon spray…” Sharat’s eyes were on fire as he recollected the brutalities.

“And then?” Divya’s choking voice asked after a long pause.

“And then there was cholera and the entire village became desolate – I and a few handful of children were rescued by an NGO.” Sharat sighed.

Divya squeaked “And then?”

Sharat gave a sudden break disorienting Divya – “And then you get down.”

Divya looked around, they had arrived.

“No, tell me.” Divya pleaded.

Sharat gave a long look at her and got down. He opened her door and gestured her to come down. She complied. He led her to a nearby closed tea shop and sat on the bench. He motioned her to do the same. She sat.

Sharat looked into her eyes almost searching and then suddenly started, “The NGO educated me, and I got a good job, but the past never stopped haunting me, I could not sleep a single night at home - which I changed many times; I can only catch a wink while traveling, at a dhaba, train or plane – I can’t have a home.”

Divya had been staring at him, tears flowing incessantly. They sat looking at each other for a long time, then she found her voice, “I’ll make you a home.”