The Rusted Chains

There she lay on the floor. Her eyes closed. Suddenly a beam of sunlight enters. It must be mid noon by now, she thinks. She raises her hand to block the source of light. She wears a bracelet which reads Mahal.

Slowly she gets up holding on a nearby stick to support her skinny frame. She stands up slowly and tries to feel the light and fresh air coming from the window of her cell. She wanted to see if her house was still there on the opposite street. It was so many years since she saw her house. Her mother and father were killed in the late British period and she put into jail for no reason. She moves forward towards the window, she walks very slowly. She was about to reach the window, when suddenly she fell and cried. The rusty chains holding her legs pulled her hopes back. They had restricted her to pain and grief.

She wants to have a glimpse of her house, she wants to make a hole in the wall, she has nothing else but a safety pin, but she is determined, so she started, months passed.

She started losing patience. Once again she tries to reach the window but in vain, her chains pulled her back. She looked in vain towards her chains and suddenly something struck her. If these non living rusted chains can hold her with determination for 50 yrs, then how can she loose her determination in such a short period?

And she sat again determined to work with the pin as her life mate on whose support she lives on hope.

Hoping to see her house again through a pin hole.