Street Stories #2

“Some lives die on the headline and some are dead, or living thousands of deaths that don’t make to the headlines.”

Living in a city is beautiful as well as tough. There are thousands of mysteries behind the iris of many. Roop was one. Roop was a fifteen year old orphan girl who got lost in a fair. Her parents didn’t find her so fate took her with itself.
She knew every chowk and gully of Bombay as if she owned it. But the reality was, the city owned her. It became her home.
Roop was free. So free that her wings were never used to chains. She was so free that her heartbeats never slowed down.
But it didn’t last long. Freedom was a right but only few had it on their platters. Rest had to struggle for it. Sometimes, even die for it.

Roop ran down the ally with her rusted anklets irregularly dinging. While her legs were eternally moving to and fro, a van gulped her in the blink of an eye.
Her legs were paused. Her heartbeats, bewildered. Her body, icy. Roop was held so tightly that her wings were tearing apart. Her liveliness got muted. Her eyes, a deep void.

Roop’s footprints faded with time and it didn’t matter because Roop had nobody. In the middle of one night, Roop became a mystery. A mystery like a few.
I relax myself in the car and stare out of the window. There are similar cars and people inside them. And nothing seems odd. But believe me, you can look at the window of any car and find Roop.

Roop could be sitting there and staring outside the window to see nothing. Her whole life had been turned off. Her eyes might not drizzle anymore.
Roop could be in any moving vehicle which my eyes would never witness.
Maybe Roop will lose her organs to somebody else. Maybe Roop will get muted and touched.
Maybe Roop will struggle and look at you from the window but her face wouldn’t show the struggle.
When the signal is green, Roop’s vehicle will drive off and you shall never see her.
Maybe Roop will die with no present, no past and no future; with nobody; with no regrets; with no wings.

Maybe Roop will not be put on the headlines.
Maybe Roop will die young with a freedom that got snatched.
But her death would become her freedom. Maybe after too much struggle, death will grant Roop her wings. And then, Roop will be free again.

“Maybe abandoned lives don’t have the freedom to live. Maybe, we are extra. Right?” -Roop


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