SHIKHA


She stepped out of the shower. Her hair was wrapped in a blue towel; water droplets barely contained trickled down her neck and on to her bare shoulders. She scrutinized her body which had changed considerably since the last time her sister called her ?scrawny?. But, that was six months ago. Now, Shikha realized with a pang, she had again outgrown her lacy bra for the 2nd time. Which meant she?d have to buy a larger size and soon.

Shikha was the thin, quiet one of the two sisters. Neha was the vivacious child who went against all norms of their conservative upbringing. Neha was the one with the love letters from the boys in their school. Neha was the one who got the bluff calls and the flowers on Valentine's day. As for Shikha, she felt like a mere shadow in front of her lovely younger sister. Their mother always remarked how Shikha's big brown eyes did not quite fit into her small, narrow face. Her voluptuous lips often caused surprised looks from strangers. Their sanu ma would lament, if only they could fatten up her cheeks, she would be beautiful. Shikha had long before been de-sensitized to comments about her features and her thin body. She had learned not to care. But, she had also learned to fantasize about an ample body and a perfect boyfriend. Shikha was a dreamer. She was, an escapist who skillfully balanced her imperfect world with a perfect fantasy.

Neha, Shikha's younger sister was getting married in two months. To her mother's amazement, Neha had agreed to marry Binod, their father's friend's son, a family friend. Her family had expectations of Neha, to do the outrageous: to elope or to marry a Kuhire. It was, the family's way of bracing for impending disaster given Neha's track record of having dated beyond the acceptable Nepali caste, and color line. Shikha remembered an overjoyed mother rushing to the ?Hare Krishna? temple to offer prayers of gratitude, donations and flowers at the thought of Neha settling down with a ?good? huney khaney, Nepali boy. And, to one the whole family approved of.

As Shikha struggled into her jeans, she smiled secretively. Her time would come, soon, very soon. The email she had received from Jeevan assured her of that.


**********to be continued**********

delightful comeback. One of the fans can now stop worrying.

the story has just begun. So not much to say about the plot. Narration is sublime as usual.
And those beautiful poems in the sideline, very refreshing. Deep Bro, try to push Sitara for more poems please.Didn't read your poems previously but now found you so good at this department as well.

Continued...

Considering that Shikha was the only "pro choice" advocate in the family, she'd never had the choice of an abortion. Against her will, her stance changed to "pro life" after the first trimester. The big mental challenge was to accept the baby as hers. But, the bigger psychological challenge was to figure out why she, a Nepali woman was unable to accept motherhood in all its feminine, traditional, cultural, religious glory.

The thought of co-parenting with Jeevan gave her a warm rush. He would be the ideal father but the idea of marrying Jeevan in his in-between-jobs state was premature. Perhaps, they could live together and bring up the baby while she finished her doctoral. Jeevan seemed progressive enough to consider such a relationship. Plus, Shikha and Jeevan loved each other. The family would want to rush her to the nearest temple she knew, but with Jeevan?s support, she could convince them.

Jeevan was arriving in two weeks for a job interview in DC. The prospects looked promising, he wrote. They could be together in the same city. Strangely, Shikha's joy was pragmatic. His move would resolve her constant heart ache and her strange predicament. Much depended on it. That night, Shikha wrote to Jeevan about their seven month old baby growing in her womb. She finally shared the ownership of her baby with his father.

*********to be continued*******

Sitara sis.. a very nice story... enjoyed reading every part of it.. thanks

Friends, thank you for reading. I will conclude this story in the next part.


Deepji:
Justice was never blind,
just oblivious;
She was never cruel,
only insensitive;
Never was she corrupt,
only indifferent
to the changing seasons,
and maladies of our fragile heart.


Forget-me-not;
Darshan! Wow! M.P.'s graduation? Perhaps, he will allow us to celebrate with him? :)

SITARA dijyu, i have been a silent reader.. what to say about you ..simply superb..now waiting for that final episode.

Antim bhagko pratikshya swasthani pachhiko tillauri jasti hudaichha...ani in the mean time:

Eccentric as she was
Obliviously bias
Her justice was
Subtle fog I was
"A thundering cloud"
Accused of, I was
"Reduced to rain" the verdict was
Gentle mist-that's all I was.



Well... when a reflection is taken for reality, confusion is sure to rise to mar subsequent decision(s). "Neither the reality nor the reflection is at fault but the assesment is". That's how I have understood the lession. Huna ta paila paila ni bujhe bujhe jasto nalagne ta kaha ho ra lession....

Once again, Antim bhag padhna pani man chha katha nasakiyos bhanne pani chha...hare
jindagi...

Lovely ! Dijju waiting for the continuation..................

dherrai din dekhi padhna khojchu..kyai bujchhu kyai bujhdina..ma matra ho ki..sabbailai yuastai huncha....aba ek phera ramro sanga napadhi ma kyai bhandina ba.......

Pratiksha gaara meri mayalu,
Pratiksha ko phaal mitho hunchha....:)
Waiting for Continuation Sitara di....Hope u ll post it soon

Perhaps the best yet from one of sajha's most senior contributors! We lucky readers are witnessing, I predict, the blossoming of Nepal's (and, dare I say, America's?) future Laurate in fiction/poetry. Simply brilliant!!

Continued.....

The next morning, Shikha grunted laboriously as she turned to her right side. She used her right shoulder and both hands to push herself up into a sitting position. Her protruding belly rolled up like a rebounding basket ball. It always took a few seconds for her to orient herself in the morning before she began her daily routine of checking emails. Fifteen emails, and not one from Jeevan. Saturday mornings, he usually slept in.

Her family had already gathered at the breakfast table as Shikha walked in with a Dhaka shawl around her shoulders.
"Hoina bhanya Sanu ma, Poonam le Ka-le bihey garyo ta ke bho ta? Oos lai maan paryo ra garyo." Neha argued with her aunt.

"Aammai, ke bhanya tyasto? Aaphno sanskriti chadera pani bihey garincha ra? Neha, hamro dharma le didaina kya!" Sanu ma explained in exasperation.

"Mamoo, maile, kuhire sanga bihey gareko bhaye hajur le ke garsinthyo?" Neha asked mamoo as she nudged Shikha with a wink.

"Tyasto Kuhirey sanga bihey garney chanas nai thiyena thimro. Mamoo lai sodha, kaati patak graha shanti garayom hamiley timro! Timro bihey ra bhawisya ta mantra le jogyako cha, ba. Tyo Poonam ko pani tyastai garaoonu parne Nepali dula nai paoonthyo ki? "Grinned Sanu Ma with a conspiring glance at mamu. Shikha caught mamu glance at Sanu ma as she frowned and touched her lips with her forefinger.

"Aajha, mandir janai parcha ra, mamu? Malai ali sancho chaina, tyas mathi mandir dhayei rakhna pani icha chaina." Shikha said as she meticulously sorted the onions from her omelet. Onions always triggered off nausea.

"Hin-na-hin, Pundit baje pani wohin aaoonchan ke. Ani tero pani chi-na dekhaoonoo parcha ke." Mamu coaxed.

"Tyahi ta Shikha, timro lagi pani Kathmandu bata biheyko kura ayeko cha ke. Ye so graha shanty garaooney ki timro pani? Aaba ta oomer pani bhai sakyo. Abiwahit chori ghar ma baseko hamro sanskriti le ramro bhandaina ke!" Sanu ma blurted the real purpose for the visit to the temple.

"Janna ma mandir sandir. Malai bihey garna iccha pani chaina!" Shikha pushed away her plate and walked out of the room.

' Bho bho katti karai rakheko Sanu, oosko padhai le nai dherai byasta cha. Ooslai keta seta ma dhyaan pani chaina ahiley." Mamu warned Sanu ma.


**********To be continued**********

Continued....
Back in her room, she stepped out of her pajamas and scrutinized her body. She was beginning to show. Her navel protruded like a ripe navel orange and, she could barely see the tips of her toes. And yet, her family had not noticed the physical change in her. Strange. Neha?s marriage occupied everyone?s waking and sleeping hours. ?Even in my most rebellious, I am negligible!? Shikha sighed into the baggy, pink shirt she wriggled into.

After three hours of staring at her computer screen, Jeevan replied back. She saw her original email attached to his.

Shikha,

I am in a state of shock. How could you have kept your pregnancy from me, I don?t understand. Your excuse is that you did not know until it was too late. Well, I find it hard to believe that such a gross mistake can occur, especially, from one as educated as you. And now you are seven months gone!

Well, I am not ready for fatherhood, yet. I don?t think I will ever be. Same goes for marriage; I am not financially stable. As for living together, it is against my conservative upbringing. The only option available to you at this point is to tell your parents about your pregnancy. I?m sure they will agree to my suggestion of giving it up for adoption. In the long run, it will be better for all involved. I wish I could help you more, but I cannot. It?s a predicament you put yourself into. However, I have faith that your family will give you all their support.

Well, at least, I have one good news to share: I got a job right here in LA which means I won?t have to move to DC. But, we can always keep in touch.

Jeevan

*********to be continued***************

Continued...

Shikha re-read the email five times until the words jumbled into a frothy mix of guilt, fear and shame. "Freedom is not a reaction!" she repeated in monotone, as she pulled herself out the chair. "Freedom is pure observation without direction, without fear of punishment or reward." She recalled Krishnamurti as she slowly made her way to the bathroom. She watched fascinated as the warm water gurgled into the bathtub. She needed the fluid warmth of the bathwater. Like the amniotic fluid that lulled her baby she desperately craved bubbles fizzing around her heavy body. She sank into the salty bath bubbles and closed her eyes for a few seconds.

Shikha?s eyes flew open as a sharp sword of pain jabbed through her abdomen leaving a trail of flutter in her womb. As she clutched at her belly, she watched the big bath bubbles pop unceremoniously one at a time. The thousands of rainbow reflections of her large, hollow eyed face burst rapidly revealing her twisted pink shirt. It was clinging to her belly which looked like a whale caught in a fishing net. As she watched fascinated, thin threads of red floated to the surface. Her blood fanned out in a fine plume; like that of a tropical bird. The water surged over the edge. The crimson water spread out slowly as it seeped into grooves of the floor tiles.

"Freedom is the final release of love and life" she smiled at her own twisted logic as she slipped into the void.


The End

That's some skillful storytelling, Sitara. Congratulations.

great narration Sitara,

but ambiguity only serves the methods and means and not the end. I just couldn't fathom the end..her freedom, justifiably 'the final release from love and life'. Was death (whether of the baby or hers)her only aerie of freedom? I wonder how Shikha, perceivably a woman of strength, came to succumb to such cowardly a pretext? On the other hand, the semblance could have well disguised her fears and insecurities within....something which all of us could one way or the other relate to.
just some wanderings!!!
looking forward to more
-raccoon

sitara di
i read your story first time.its very nice.you also best story writer of sajha.thanx for your imagination.

sitara jyu...as always...ke bhannum...words ni auna ..hehee....ending pani wah...am speechless..:o)...still thinking about it..and thinking well wat could it be...cant really believe that it is wat it seems like..dunno am thinking if it is smthing else :o)...

anyways euta secret bhannum?hehee...oh well bhannu maan lagyo..so might as well..who knows wat there tomorrow hoina ;oP hehee...long long time ago..(not too long ago hai..im not that old..;oP..)when i was surfing and bummed into a site called..www.sajha.com...i saw some writings that kinda well...u know..well read...and read again and again..and after that day...strarted coming back to that site to read more ;o)...and now as they say its history...

urghh dyam i wish it was like that time again...those good old days..when i was chuup and enjoyin me reading...doing 2 things...reading and writing...i think im not really givin the reading me 100% attn which it does more than deserve hoina ;o)....hehee...

anywys ..i guess i dun need to name that name..that i kinda noticed then ;o)..did not notice the name cos of the name..but cos of the writings ni..duh!(sonika style ;oP )

and well ...everyone realises that.duh...(dyam sonika has got me ;oP..tho of cos she will most prob dump me from her thrash chute..99th floor wasnt it?;oP dyam im scared of heights :o(...;oP)...dyam it feels good to be a bit sure..maybe im right this time ;oP..as they say majority wins ;oP...plus if the author makes the reader think if it is fiction or fact...aru ke bhannu paryo hoina ;o)..hehe...

lu ja ta....dunno wat else to say...bhujio bhaney bhujioo...bhujio na bhaney..dun blame urself ;oP...

anyways more pls..;o)..not for me...askin for ur fans ni ;o)...hope u are doing great...

good day...

danny
(is sonika makin an appearance here?been a while since we saw her..im sure she is being missed by a lot :o)...and hehee...since i mentioned her name..maybe she wil oblige ;oP hehee..anyways enuf bhakwsh ehehe...)

What's common between Sitara & Dananah?
* They both write long & boring trash. Duh.

**
FYI Dananah, too bad that you haven't heard >Duh< from others but from me. Its in every tongue of Americans. Duh. FYI, mine is 55th floor. Now why don't you jump from it and do me a favor not writing long blaberrings. What a waste.Duh. I'm busy.


Peace out

Sis, read your story, nice twist at the end. I don't know which is worse, the baby (fetus) dying or her wanting to be a single parent. If someone asked me I would choose the latter but then to each his/her own.

Twist of faith, indeed.

Desires when forced
Submit once but
Revolt forever.

Sitara ji...Aru ni jawos na fursad ma.

थियो आगो त मन्दै
सल्काको हो मैले थियो।
सँगै खै उ भने ताप्दै थियो
म दाउरा भाको नी देखेन बन्दै।।