An Outcast...

The only sensation was pain.

A bird of golden wings is obsessed down by the gun blast. Still a half-dead seagull, who is recently tattered by the turbine. Life's too exhausting and untouchable. Blood's so wasteful and flesh too abhorrent.

"Where have the colors gone?"

Gauri doesn't fit in her dreams even. She is finished.

Living along with the bank of the Ganga River, images of her marriage, bridal garland flashed in front of her eyes.

Her shoulders dropped under the heavy weight of the vibrant bridal garland. Gauri was only nine at that time. Her Uncle had pocketed Rs1000 ($ 25) by marrying her off to a forty-six year old. Her husband died five years later, leaving her a 14-year-old widow.

Those sinister flashes leave tears till date, when her head was shaved by the local barber, and body wrapped in a barren white sari, so she may not stimulate carnal pleasures in other men. Her presence was considered so inauspicious that even her shadow  could affect anybody's fate.

A shunned face, which has spent each night securing herself, from the havocs, who roamed in the dark sinful nights.

"I am more than 85 but still the scars of the bruises and tearings are not cured". She murmured stroking her bruises."

"Gauri, a male correspondent wants to take your interview". A voice from another fellow widow destructed her agony.

"All men lust after our bodies" She stood and shut the door forcefully.

"My soul still feels abused and raped" She speaks with a strong voice, but her spirit is broken.

(*ashram: an intentional community, formed  for the spiritual upliftment for the members, headed by a religious leader)