Tickles of Wind Part 1

Part 1

Get Out!!!!! NOW!!!!

My grandpa was yelling at my mother. My Aunt was crying on the other side. I was standing behind my cousin, twice removed, and my t-shirt was dipped in tears. It was one of those times where, you have no idea, but if you didn’t cry until your lungs break out, you are definitely on the verge of lunacy.

Someone had tipped off the police. They had come in the morning once. My mom hid upstairs when my grandpa negotiated with them. I was watching him when he did. A perfect replica of Sherlock holmes in a white shirt and dhoti. The most respectable man in the neighborhood. The first son among 13 children to built a 4 storey house. By then, my mom was only 5.

And how she loved it! She was his first daughter and so she was the most loved of all. Once she told him in the night, wrapped around his chest, that she will never leave home. Never leave daddy. Little did she know the fate fairy was smiling around the corner thinking “So Be It!”.

Her husband, my beloved dad, had run out on us yet again. A man I hardly remembered! I was still crying when my grandma choked in tears came to me and said, “Shut up, stop crying and find your brother.

So I went, still crying, trying to find my brother. It was an easy job. I just had to follow that automated wailing noise. He was hiding behind the door of the veena room. Seeing him, I cried even louder, took his hand, came down and sat by my mother. And suddenly, with the jerk, she got up, adjusted her glasses, took us both in one hand each and said, “Let God be on my side”, and walked into the streets through the front door. However, she didn’t take us in the street. You see God’s wit is not for test! She took a shortcut and we started walking on the main path with hundreds of other dhoti clad men and saree clad women walking past. May be it was the air. I had stopped crying.

She was murmuring something. I could see she was lost and she was crying behind her spectacles. I was holding her hand and walking in her speed, when I tripped, lost her grip and fell. I could see that my slippers had broken. I was adjusting it when I heard a mad bell tinkering close to me. And when I saw, the speeding cycle had hit me. I flew, hit the tree and fell down with a thump.

I could see everyone, including my mother, all gathered and screaming around me. As I was lying, I lifted my hand towards the beautiful girl clad in just a red blouse and underskirt smiling at me. While my mother lifted my body, my spirit went with her.

She sat me in the same tree while everyone cleared. I touched the mud dried in my blood. I looked at her and she smiled. I didn’t know then if I was alive or dead. After all, I was only 11. But I somehow felt well. And she took my head and placed it in her lap. And she told me a story.


The girl was beautiful. Her face dripped in innocence. Her eyes were small but she had blood red lips. Purely natural.

She was in the shower. In front of the mirror and she was pinching herself. She was whispering, cry, cry, cry. But the harder she pinched, the harder she laughed. But she kept saying cry, cry, cry. Please. Cry, cry, cry. Finally she stopped. Her shower was still pouring water. She moved closer to the mirror and she slapped. Slap, slap, slap. Her cheeks were red now. It was not the pain. It was the little tear trail on her cheeks. And she cried. Hard. She smiled in the end. Then she looked at the mirror. She touched her face. Moist. She checked her lips. Red. And she smiled and said in a sing-song voice, “my my, I am beautiful!

Then she went into the shower and closed her eyes. She cleansed her mind and body. She felt one. She felt the cold water in her head and it cleansed the body. She placed her hand in between her chest and took a breath. It made her feel like a fish. Like she belonged in water.

Finally she heard the screams outside. Time to step out. She got out, still dripping in water. She dressed herself in a skirt and t-shirt. And when she climbed the bed to touch her fan (a small thing to do with a vanity for height!), I caught a quick glimpse of her left knee. It was scarred. A white patch of skin.

I touch my knee. I cant see the scar but it was definitely bleeding. I slowly lift my head and tell the girl in the red dress, Its me. That girl is me.

She smiles and touches my head. And in that moment, I wake up in a hospital bed, with my mom kissing me all over. I looked around the room. She wasn’t there. I look down and saw my left leg all wrapped in white bandage. My mom says, its ok dear, it ll heal. And all it will leave is a scar for you to remember.

That’s weird, I think, I definitely saw a little girl there! I slowly climb down the bed and look around the room. Ha! Too much HBO. I gently adjust my skirt below my knee and step out. And while closing the door, I look at the fan and wink. You are not that far away! I smile and seat myself for dinner. I hear my brother whispering to my sister, she is mad. I smile even more and stuff my mouth.

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