The Unheard Screams

The sky was clear and the clouds flew by in complete tranquillity. The endless sky seemed to be painted with beautiful shades of blue, it all felt like a perfect day in the small village of rural Rajasthan. But you know what they say never judge a book by its cover. The day had come, the one which the girl feared the most and had horrible nightmares of. On the outskirts of the village was a small house, in one of the rooms, lied the girl crying into her pillow unable to breathe. Her tears made a huge wet patch on the pillow leaving it soaking wet. She looked at her bare wrist fitting the urge to pick the blade and slitting her soft, moist skin.

There was a loud knock on the wooden door retrieving her back to reality and warning her that this wasn't over yet.

"It's almost time Geeta." Said the shrill voice from behind the door. Geeta jumped out of her bed, all her small sparks of hope had died. She had hoped and prayed that her parents would refuse this inhuman act, but there was no luck. They were sure of what they wanted.

Whenever Geeta tried to talk her mother out of it she would always say one thing "what will the villagers think?"

She carefully draped her red saree and pinned them safely near her stomach. She threw the other part of her saree over her shoulders, she had seen her mother wear a saree enough times to know what she was doing.

The saree was studded with small golden stars and was made of a soft material. A white lace was attached to its hem giving it a graceful touch.

Geeta studied herself in the mirror with sad, red eyes. She applied a thin layer of kajal, a big black bindi and slid some bangles onto her thin, delicate wrists. She looked back at her reflection one last time and started walking towards the door.

It was time for her grand entrance, she knew, because the drums had started playing.

Geeta opened the door, her stomach lurched and grumbled ferociously.

The floor was cold under her feet, she could feel multiple blank stares pressing in on her as she walked towards the blazing fire. Her legs were giving out but she couldn't fall, she had to be strong no matter what.

She could see her mother giving her assuring nods periodically from the corner of her eyes, but she didn't dare look at her. She knew she would fall apart.

Geeta sat down next to her husband's pyre which was now burning and giving out warmth but this didn't stop her shivers. They weren't because of the cold anyway. She was numb and confused and had no idea why this had to be done to her. What her crime was and why she was being put through a living hell. The priest chanted without stopping. He had to get over with it before the holy time ended. He chanted the prayers without staggering as though he did the ritual every day. Well, he probably did.

Geeta had questions, many of them just like the other girls who went through this and the most colossal of them was "why me?"

She stood facing the fire and looked at her parents one last time, the only thought that lingered her mind now was "I have to be strong"

She closed her eyes and leaped right into the bright fire. She let out an unholy scream as her body burned and stung.

She could hear the drums, trumpets and other instruments being played outside to block out her screams and calls for help.

Geeta ran around in a circle until finally, her lungs gave out. She fell on the ground her body slowly burning. She gave out one last big scream and that rang her death bell.

Hours later the fire went out and all that was left of her were black ashes that gave out hot fumes. Days went by, and the village had forgotten about Geeta and her bravery. Maybe if Geeta's mother knew that the village would forget so fast, Geeta would still be alive. Maybe if she hadn't thought, "What would the villagers think?" 

Geeta would still be alive.