Shobha Arora

Drama Others

4.9  

Shobha Arora

Drama Others

The Typewriter

The Typewriter

2 mins
844


That day…

The sun with its benevolent aura filtered through the thick patches of clouds and scattered across the vast canvassed sky, pecking the dewy flowers, touching the wet soil, knocking the dozing life and stirring all secrets that shrouded themselves in the darkness of the night. The flight of birds speedily flew along the uncharted course of the sky, like armed forces chasing their prey.

She had woken up with the cooing of the nightingale that customarily sat at the window sill of her worn-out building that made its way among the cluster of other buildings that girdled the locality. The clicking sound of the typewriter from the other room ensured another sleepless night of her husband. She bathed and sat down to eat her breakfast. Tiny droplets of water beautifully trickled down her wet hair that cascaded over her shoulders. She was lost in one of her old memories.


The clicking sound of the typewriter continued in the background.



Thoughts, of things, people, situations and incidents had begun to hover her mind like trooped forces on an invasion spree. Kalpana struggled to drift her thoughts from one to the other, clutched and tied to her roots…Roots! she wandered…roots that tied her up. If she was to save her family..if she was to save herself from the disgrace that she’d be heaped with if she steps out and speak for herself…if she would harbour thoughts of self-contentment and say it aloud to the world that this is not what she wanted in marriage and life…this is not what she had imagined her life to be…handicapped..dependent on an individual for love and care…


They say this is an institution built on compromises…you need to learn the art of flattery, the art of masking your true self..guising your worries with a deceitful smile..smile which makes you seem compliant and obliging. NO! she wouldn’t strangle herself anymore..she would learn the art of loving herself rather than yearn or someone who denigrates her.

The thundering sound of the clock striking 12 shook her from her deviated thoughts and she stood up to continue with her daily chores.

The clicking sound of the typewriter continued in the background.


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