Tiny Steps to a Vibrant World

Short Story

Little pinky looked distinguishably beautiful in pink frock and butterfly hair-band under which short fringes gratifyingly hung on her glossy forehead. Her diminutive yellow fingers clasped her father’s dilapidated palm; her fancy frolicking consistently wheeled around until her little velvety feet stumbled upon the sprouting stones on that enchanted ground.

“Are you hurt?” asked her concerned father.

“I am alright” a consolatory answer appeased her father’s anxiety. She stepped back to her preceding zeal.

Her soft idyllic feet cuddled fairy dust sparkling on more than ordinarily wonderful road; the road which was mollycoddled by the embellished parks on both sides. Children of her age were playing amongst the family of trees. The Trees were singing the song of their dreams to kiss the sky; and wondrous vibrant green herbs were rhythmically nodding their heads. It pleased her pink-shelled ears and overwhelmed her lively temper. The spicy aroma of wild flowers sprang up in the zephyr.

Surprisingly, she witnessed everything began growling like an angry giant; they entered a wide big hole with monotonous surface which ended into a narrow dark alley where an awkward gloom cast a spell; a keen tingling air fell insanely upon her and crept all over her mind. It seemed she entered in the ‘abode of sickness’ where pallid antique air was the only inhabitant. A heavy dreary surge of uncomfortable feeling urged her for a question,

“Where are we going father?” her intense weighty peeks enquired.

“We are going to visit your new uncle” with the inscrutable artifice, his authoritative voice acknowledged her excited glance and assured her wholesome state of happiness. She stepped forward with enthusiasm; polite and attentive voice of her father didn’t need any further investigation. There was no heavier woe.

A strange slice of silence prevailed and a grown-grey figure emerged with a modish white sleeping car which benevolently stood in the murky sinister milieu. He was the replica of dignified figure amalgam of multi-featured characteristics.

“So, finally you have made up your mind” his welcoming glance that regarded her father was of recognition.

Pinky saw his enthusiastic eyes widened, gliding over her long beautiful hair that hung down her neck and crawled around the pinkish countenance roving over the aesthetic beauty as he was voraciously seeking, “She has got a pretty face” satisfactory smile appeared on his face.

“You stand here, we are coming” she shook her obliged head signifying her father’s command.

Their voices sunk low in distance, a moment’s pause and the muffled conversation turned into some pieces of harsh whispering that rose louder from the stranger’s thick fleshy throat …she saw them truculently arguing that finally crumbled into solution. Their voices ceased abruptly. Though, at her farthest she couldn’t proceed to any conclusion only saw the stranger’s bold finger patted her father’s bony shoulder which confirmed their elaborated discourse was satisfactorily settled. A bundle of hundred rupees went to her father’s pocket.

“He’s your uncle; you will go with him” her father decidedly told her.

“Where?”

“I don’t know him.”

Her novice blank eyebrow knitted and quivering end of eyelashes gave an impression of extraordinary resistance. Her striving voice entered into immediate struggle in front of the stranger’s carnivorous eyes that shuddered mysteriously and fluttered in greed, “Where Am I going?” Clutching her father’s coarse fingers, she ejaculated the question. There was no word, only dead emotions that scattered on his exhausted sun-browned countenance. Uncomfortable sprinkling of clammy damp wind sailed her into metallic whirl of mist; her legs were unavailingly struggling into tremendous agitation to accompany her father… but… boisterously obstinate clasp of stranger discouraged her frost hand even to try. The gauche air that passed ragged her ordinary vigilance and veiled shrill was wailing inarticulately from her inside. She only remembers the last indefinable grace of her father that feverishly touched her restless maudlin tears in fatherly love and persuading consolation, “you are my best daughter, I know you will not prove it wrong” which confirmed her father’s metaphorical love.

Tiny Steps to a Vibrant World

Mayawati's Maya

I was seriously stuck on the news that our ‘Mayawati’ has demanded reports of “illegal property” of Indian Netas..... Why does she idolize herself?
Humanitarian Mayawati
Mayawati is acting, with almost natural tinge, as the galvanizing apparatus allotted with the self-appointed responsibility for ameliorating the disconsolate stink of morality in the air of every quarter of the country. Her virulent knack of presenting herself as a ‘Defender of Loyalty’ in the great dearth of worthier Netas is recognizable on her deficiently coarse but spacious visage. She can be excused, as it is not her intense greed but the contaminated circumstances that created a claptrap situation for her to harmlessly suck diluted blood of poor, for whom, as she claims, is shouldering the way to progress. A fatal freshness is so obviously prominent in the ecstasy of her humanitarianism. It is her moral endowment that strengthens her feminine instinct to 'Love Only Dalit Caste’.
To give a perfect touch, I would say, she is woman of immense variety of notabilities. She is the ‘Miss Lord of Justice’ for oppressed Dalit. She dextrously combats against any injurious treatment to her caste reputation and passionately revenges upon Knavish tricks of mischievous Netas, if they try striking the recognition of her instinctive attributes.

Architect Mayawati

Recently, she has proved herself as a great manufacturer. Her profoundest fear of her ‘Might Extinct Existence’ initiated her taking precautionary steps; if people, in any case, forget her eminency, her aristocratic statue will remind her ‘Once upon a time’ presence. She did nothing except for dwelling on the necessity and such establishment was needful.

Mayawati's Garland

Valuing her vast piles of accomplishments, she was welcomed with garland worth crores. She seems to be a fearless tigress under any circumstances. Other Netas who either raise their low grumbling voice or are reluctant inaugurating war against Mayawati valour are not haunted by vehement composure of her character or savage state of madness but their fear of being banged about. So, the good gracious advice is ‘apparently disdain but take pleasure in every passing event’. A fierce brilliance you can say.....

Mayawati's Maya