Short Stories


Her long twirls of hair, tumbled over her shoulder. Her dark yet thin eyebrows had a rising arch. Her beautiful wide forehead always had her flicks falling over. Her hazel eyes that usually sparkled with bliss, turned out sometimes, red underneath, out of fury. Her chalky pink lips, curled upwardly. She had small cluster of broken veins over her high cheek bones, which added a blush… Her clear and fair complexion was as fresh as a raindrop. Her small squinting eyes, her beaked nose, flattened slightly when she smiled. Curls fell on her dimpled cheeks and hung around her slightly jutting ears. Her face with silent features and lack of cosmetics, used to glisten with sweat. Everyday, she seemed to be fresh as new untouched green leaf personified.
This was ritu… the crush of my teenage. She was not materialistic and qualified yet dignified and inebriating.
It had been six years, today I shall meet her.
” Ritu.. Open the door..see it’s me Vivaan!!”
Then a girl completely wrapped up in a shawl came and asked,”Who is it there..?”, in a steady, lifeless voice.
” Ritu? Hey it’s me, you don’t recognise me or what? And , why have you covered yourself? “, I said and simply gave a jerk to her stole, which concealed her face..
What I saw was breathtaking!!!! There was no trace of ‘Ritu’ in that face!! There was a totally devastated face…
Her face had a layer of unevenly thick, flesh which had shades of brown clustered veins which covered her forehead skin, and had no traces of eyebrows at all. Her nose was packed under by a tightly stretched skin which had up and down horizontal impressions. Her eyelashes had vanished, nearly making her one-eyed. Her nose, was covered by tightly stretched light textured skin and it had clusters of flesh which were protruding out from several portions of her face. Her lips, had lost the curl and the elasticity. Her neck, had a texture of tightly carved stagnant unclear ripples of burnt flesh, somewhere rising and somewhere dissolving.
She suffered an acid attack, on 24-May-2014!!! Her father passed away meanwhile… and she lost her mother in her early childhood. Now she has devoted herself by working as a cook in a nearby restaurant, so as to collect capital for herself for her surgeries….for her treatment!
I stood there horrified and scandalised, unable to accept the reality and her burnt lips smiled, depicting the revolting flame , of surviving in this ruthless world, inside her.

Srishti Lohani

The author Srishti Lohani

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