Sweven

She wore the kajal in her eyes, the jhumka in her ears. She neatly secured her saree pleats with a safety-pin. She looked beautiful. Or atleast, she thought so. She went out from her room into the living room and found her Dad watching her, his expression evidently boosting her confidence. “You look good,” he whispered in her ears. She smiled and flashed the perfect set of white teeth towards him. “Let’s go?” she asked. “Yes.”

The school was a five-minute walk from her home and she always preferred walking. As she came down the lane, she saw two pair of eyes, looking at her, horror writ large on them. The owner of the two eyes were two little boys, who were playing cricket on the road. She tried smiling at them, but they looked away and concentrated on their game. An elderly lady was on her routine evening walk. She looked at the girl in the saree and stopped abruptly, mumbling a little prayer under her breath and clutching onto the rudraaksh mala she wore around her neck.

Finally, they reached the school. Her father kissed her forehead and said, “Enjoy your farewell night.” “Thanks, Dad.” Saying so, she went inside the school gate and went straight to the washroom. She couldn’t stop tears from flowing down as she looked herself in the mirror. She was the bearer of melted skin, disfigured face. The memories of that horrifying night came flashing by. The feel of a liquid on her face, the realisation, the hot sensation, and then the unbearable pain. She was scarred for life. What was her fault?