The Tailors Two Inches

Our different truths and the lives they scar

She stood drenched on the sidewalk. Her kajal spread under the clouds raining safe behind her niqab. At her feet, tears and rain washed down into a clear muddle. Sprawling on both sides, the tarmac lay gleaming in the streetlights under a graying sky. Further ahead, his figure diminished fast into beyond.

A hundred miles to the north, cradled in a quiet valley between history and progress, there stood a home overlooking wavy paddy fields and tall transmission towers. There, she was born into the safety of her mothers arms, swaddled in soft woolen. Today, two and a half decades later, the swaddle had remained on her flesh; tighter and coarser. Except, now it was black. It showed her where her world ended. Two inches from her virgin skin, The Tailor had dropped a black curtain on her world.

The Tailor - Smiling from behind lips stained with innocent dreams, the hunchback scouts for fear alone. Bent double, he walks along The Street of Puppeteers, weaving his black drapes from a quiver of thread on his back. He sells the black veils at the puppeteers'. Watching the Tailor smacking his lips at virgin dreams,  against the dimly lit back wall, lay baby puppets stacked in a line, their  round unsuspecting eyes curious. The Tailor leaves, with a promise to be back when the veils outgrow their puppets.

Today, she was informed, she had outgrown her abaya. All of the two inches of her freedom, no more belonged to her. Two inches, that she had let him stay in. Two inches, where the warmth of his gaze, and the love in his touch had brought a puppet's soul to life.

"There is no good way this story could end. Grief had to follow. But what good is a God that is merely a spectator. So, I had her given a wish."

She closed her eyes and wished her wish.

Before the kajal scarred her innocent lips, the puppet's strings were cut, her veil torn and her world, reclaimed.

Author's Note

Please be appropriately scathing

Reviews

[AYVID N]

The concept is quite interesting. Indeed, it is dark world behind the veil but lift it a little and the rays of hope are sure to penetrate it. A good read, it made me wonder about captivity, liberation and the extent to which we all are in control of our lives.

As far as other aspects of the write are concerned, we all keep refining our pieces, as we go. What really matters is the concept and the message and this one is great...Keep penning friend.

[Sharan Suresh]

Thanks Divya,
Psyched that my words could bring those ideas to mind. That's all I ever wrote for. Quite encouraging.

It would be mighty helpful if you could also jot down your thoughts about those other aspects of my writing. You know how we can be blind to the faults of our own creations. A little feedback on things to improve would go a long way in helping me sort it out. Thanks again.

[AYVID N]

Ok Sharan. I will go through some more of your work and come up with feedback. You are most welcome.

[Stonz P.]

This seriously blew me off!
Where had you been all this time?
I am referring you to my friends.

I have not come across such concepts from India in a long time.
This was refreshing. I understand why you want the criticism to be scathing ;)

Regards,
Peter

[Sharan Suresh]

Whoa! Your comment's blown me off! ;D

Thanks for such wonderful words. Makes you feel all the more responsible and determined to write even better.

And yes, no secrets there about wanting criticism, definitely want to hear the worst that is conceivable about the piece ;)