THE COLD BLANKET

Like any other day, Swapna was obstinate of not going to school. As a responsible mother, Aisha was persuading her to go to school. It was the beginning of January and the nights were getting unbearably colder. The Sun would show up as late as 7 in the morning. Her heart melted when she saw Swapna hugging herself and wrapping herself in Aisha’s worn out pink sari. She wanted to hold her little innocent girl tight in her arms, caress and bundle her up in a thick blanket for which she was saving money. Nevertheless, Swapna was always a happy, contended kid. Graciously she adored the small and big holes in the saree like her favourite pink colour of it. In the summer, she would wrap it around her waist, carefully fold the shabby saree into pleats and drape it down from her shoulder to touch her feet. She loved it when the fabric touched her feet, she felt like a grown up. She would then wear those old glasses, the only memory her father had left them. He passed away when she was just 5 and Swapna faintly remembered how he looked and talked. Sometimes, she wondered why her mother never talked of him but she never pondered over the reason. She was a happy cheerful kid!
Being unable to lift her heavy exhausted eyelids, Swapna still lay on the cot.
“You are getting late “yelled her mother Aisha.
Swapna gave her a feeble look, her eyes filled with some expectation.
“Not anymore. I am tired of your excuses. If you go to school regularly like a good child I will take you to the exhibition” uttered Aisha.
Swapna secretly smiled at this excuse that her mom gave every day. Though reluctantly, she had been regular to the school but her mom never took her to the exhibition. She never forced her mom to. She understood how hard her mother worked in the neighbourhood, washing their dishes and clothes. Even if they did go to the exhibition, unlike other kids she would not have her father to take her to those scary rides and her mother could definitely not afford those fancy frilled Angelic gowns.
Early in the morning, hands in hands, they would tread down the narrow lanes leading to the school. This is the time they were the closest to each other. Sometimes, Aaisha would even churn up a cute story for Swapna. With big old trees on either sides and the chirping of birds, in the best company of each other Aaisha and Swapna would start their day this way.
“I have kept sugar stuffed parathas for lunch. Eat that fully” uttered Aaisha on reaching the school.
“Hmm. I will Amma” uttered Swapna in a low voice.
With hunched shoulders under the heavy backpack, Swapna slowly moved towards the school.
With a lot of dreams for the future and the unconditional love for the other, they parted this way each day.
Aisha, while doing the daily chores of different houses would often sink into some sort of day-dream admiring the education, lifestyle and especially the respect her malkins had in the society. She coveted (yearn to possess) Swapna to become one of those revered persons and more often than not her reverie broke into reality by either the doorbell or a new command from her master, sometimes by the clink of porcelain dishes or the icy cold water cutting through her hands instantly reminding her to get a new blanket for Swapna.
It had started darkening. Some weird calmness and wild chill in the air only added to the troubled atmosphere prevailing already. Swapna was missing. Missing for the past 3 hours!
Everyone in the neighbourhood had gathered at Aaisha’s rickety house. Men in the village were gravely searching and enquiring for Swapna. Aaisha was running to every place of possibility. Mercilessly, strange thoughts were coming to her. She was internally fighting them back and subsiding the fear with prayers.
Then, a painful wailing of a villager hit her ears. Huffing and unsteadily, she brought herself to the spot. In a deep deserted waterless well, Swapna was thrown. Thrown mercilessly like a waste after use. She lay there in a pool of blood, captured in the thorny bushes. She lay there naked, her body full of bruises. She lay there with her eyes closed!
This terrible reality broke over Aisha like a wave of terror, picking her up and thrashing her around. She stood paralysed! She thought of Swapna’s beautiful eyes, her innocent smile, flat noes and her ever understanding soul. She thought of her little soft hands and legs. She thought of her calling “Amma” again and she could not think anymore. She rushed towards her home, pushing away the crowd that had gathered around. She came back huffing with a newly bought thick blanket and covered up her little girl. The entire night she wept into her old shabby pink sari, the only one that accepted her with all the warmth.
The very next day, it became news. Just another one of its kind to be precise. It read exactly this, “VIOLENCE WREAKED ON THE 14-YEAR OLD GIRL IN A FERAL MANNER, WITH MEDICAL REPORTS STATING THAT HER LIMBS WERE BROKEN, HER ARMS DISLOCATED FROM HER SHOULERS, HER SKIN SHORN FROM HER BODY WHICH HAD BITE MARKS ALL OVER.”