Have you heard of Palampur? It's awesome little village nestled between the hills and valleys.
A serene village becomes the stage for a story of shattered dreams and newfound hope. Fiery and short-tempered Jiya, separated from her mother and sister...
🏍️ "Close to him, every heartbeat whispered love." ﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌ 🍃🌙🪞🪷✨📜
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There are three stages of being a shameless person: first is the normal level of shameless, then comes the middle level, and finally the extreme level of shameless, where Mr. Unknown resides comfortably. Has this person devoured all his ethics and morals? What an idiot! He blatantly stared at my nipples through my clothes while I was wiping my hair. This is mortifying! By evening, I had forgotten about it, but then he just had to remind me about my straps too. Now, I have to be covered from head to toe to shield my 'glory' from his prying eyes!
Despite our houses being directly opposite each other, we never had any real interaction. I started drying my hair downstairs just to avoid his lecherous gaze; who knows when he began his perverted behavior! Yesterday, I almost slapped him, but his cunning dodge saved him from my fists. One day, I decided to dry my hair on the balcony, but damn it, there he was, standing in his black vest, sipping tea with a smug look on his face that made my blood boil! The final straw was when he brazenly lowered his gaze to my chest. Though I had already covered it with a towel for precaution, his smirk remained, prompting me to slam the window shut in his face!
Today, our village is buzzing with excitement for the grand Kusti/Pehelwan competition. The stakes are high, with cash prizes for the winner and a large TV for the runner-up. The match pits muscle-bound, heavyweight fighters against a single, wealthy opponent who has placed a hefty bet on the outcome. My eyes are glued to the shimmering TV under the sun's rays, but I don't have enough money to place a bet. Even if I did, I'd need to ensure my chosen fighter's victory, which is a gamble in itself. Besides, we villagers can't easily participate in such extravagant events.
"Jiya, let's go, the match will start soon."
"Coming," I replied, adjusting my chiffon dupatta, a vibrant blend of orange and blue that perfectly matched my orange cotton Patiala suit contrast with blue salwar. As I reached downstairs, I was greeted by Tara, looking radiant and ready, standing at the door. I gave her an amused look before locking the doors. Rajshree Amma had gone to sell pots, and was discussing my father's whereabouts, he lay drunk and unconscious in one room. Ever since we moved into this house, my father harboured a deep grudge about leaving his eldest daughter somewhere. It was then I learned of my elder sister, whose existence I never knew, revealing that I still had family living far away.
My father descended into a daily ritual of drowning his sorrows for two heartbreaking reasons. Firstly, he felt incapable of showing me the love a father should, leaving me yearning for affection I never received. Secondly, amidst his drunken stupors, he would incessantly mutter a name 'Meera' a name that held the key to the painful truth about my mother. Each time he spoke of ending his own life, he seemed oblivious to the crushing weight his words imposed upon me. Does he know how much pain it causes to my heart? Despite my relentless efforts to rescue him from the clutches of alcohol, he only pushed me further away, his threats of violence hanging heavy in the air whenever I dared to stay by his side or snatch the alcohol bottle away from him.
