Random musings of a wandering soul

Rumi Girl

(My first attempt at fiction)

She had not expected him to come back the next night. Horror, shock, shame, guilt, revulsion, sympathy, hopelessness and finally a sense of emptiness had run through his eyes in a matter of seconds. Then he turned his back and went out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him. She had not felt anything, after months now, she could face anyone and anything with a feeling of indifference and detachment. Nothing seemed to matter anymore.

It was as if his senses had disappeared from the moment he stepped out of her room. He couldn’t remember how he reached back or when. The whole day passed in a state of limbo. By evening he knew his feet would follow his mind and trace back yesterday’s steps.

“How?” was the only word that came out of his mouth. Maybe he knew the answer to the question that should have otherwise come naturally – “Why?”
That was the first question he had asked her years back.

“Rumi said I have to ask you”, the voice had startled him out of his reverie on that rainy Sunday afternoon. He had fallen asleep on the armchair and there was this waif like thing with his ‘Mystical Poems of Rumi’ in her hand.
“Why?”
“Why what?”, came the somewhat insolent reply.
“Why do you want this book?”
“I asked your daughter the meaning of her name and she said it is in this book.”

He was surprised that his daughter even remembered the book. She had started hating her name from the time she was old enough to understand the undercurrents in some of the rare conversations her parents had. She could perceive the unseen links between the book, her name and the more and more frequent wistful look in her father’s eyes these days. With each successful project of her mother’s, his father’s grip on that book and the distance between the three of them had grown. She could sense that her father had lost something priceless and this book was the only relic of that past of his.

And the girl continued standing there holding out the book to him. He didn’t know what came over him when he said yes.She had run off like lightning. That is when he realized he didn’t even know who she was.

The girl was back next Sunday, “Can you explain these to me?”
He was surprised at the poems she had chosen. By then he knew she was their maid’s daughter, a favorite of the nuns in the missionary school that she was studying in. He started looking forward to Sundays now. The life and the dancing humor in the girl’s eyes had started lighting up his eyes and there was a new spring to his step these days. She was perceptive beyond her years and her thoughts were far way from where she lived.

The visits stopped as suddenly as it had started. From the bits of pieces of exasperated soliloquies from his wife, he could make out that the maid and her family had returned to some obscure homeland of theirs after the quintessential spar with the drunken husband.

Seasons passed, his wife and daughter had moved on with their lives in which there was no space or time for him.

A wordly wise friend, an alumni meeting and a drunken stupor had led him to the house in the darkness of the night. The first glimpse of her face shook him out of his stupor. He could see that the light had gone completely out of her eyes.It was that darkness in her eyes that he came in search of, the next night.

“Why?”

The shreds of shattered dreams were reflected in the lone tear that balanced precariously at the tip of her long eye lashes.

The old spring was back in his steps as he led his Rumi girl out of that room.

(picture courtesy – vividmix.com)

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Comments on: "Rumi Girl" (25)

  1. JayadevM said:

    You definitely aren’t a novice and this doesn’t appear to be a hesitant first step.

    The story is told well and with such maturity. I have said this before… There are many more stories waiting to be told by you.

    Good one, Bindu.

    • If you do not take into account the stories produced for school assignments, this actually is my first attempt πŸ™‚
      Thanks for the good words. Yes, I agree there are more stories and I am now realizing that what I need to do is just sit down and get it out!

  2. did you say FIRST attempt .. ot me its like chakk de fatter types , a lovely story and very nice.. I dont think if others will also think this is the first attempt, its beautiful

    cheers to many more πŸ™‚

  3. Exceptionally well written. Your writing stye is impressive. I really loved the very subtle word play and intelligent sentence construction. I share your love for Rumi. “My place is placeless, a trace
    of the traceless. Neither body or soul.”

    Keep writing and expecting more stories from you. Congratulations and best wishes.

  4. Goodness this your first attempt?? Outstanding piece of writing! I hope you wouldnt stop at this one πŸ™‚
    Heres looking forward to reading more stories from you!

  5. Very interesting indeed with a spontaneous flow! Wish you many more!
    Cheers πŸ™‚

  6. this doesn’t seem like the first attempt. The style, narrative seems to belong to a seasoned author. Your blog posts are anyway very engaging, so there is no mystery that your fiction should be this GOOD! Please write more..
    btw, I did not get any email notification for the new post 😦

  7. Thanks a lot, Uma. I am totally flattered by all your comments. Came across this quote today, guess that says it all πŸ™‚

    “β€œRead, read, read. Read everything — trash, classics, good and bad, and see how they do it. Just like a carpenter who works as an apprentice and studies the master. Read! You’ll absorb it.
    Then write. If it’s good, you’ll find out. If it’s not, throw it out of the window.”
    ― William Faulkner

  8. Prasanth said:

    Very interesting and catchy ! Doesnt feel like its your first attempt mam….! Keep on writing ….! Its a divine gift ! Now I understood the FB update …!

  9. Gud read and keep going. Springs always bring hope and joy. Let the spring come very often.

  10. I had to read it atleast 3 times to get the meaning. U think I might be a little dim 😦

    All I can is that I’m awed, you’ve used words so economically yet the descriptions are vivid. That last bit was heart-rending but then again u’ve ended it positively.

  11. phoenixritu said:

    Really good. I love the undercurrents

  12. I would love to wander through your drafts folder πŸ™‚ πŸ™‚

  13. Wow! A novice cannot do this. Tell me how many are still lying there without being shown to anyone?

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