|The Dressing Table (standard:Psychological fiction, 1667 words)|
|Author: Shamoil Ahmad||Added: Jan 26 2010||Views/Reads: 2469/1041||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|The Dressing Table’ is an offbeat story - advocating strongly the ‘’reality’’ how the objects that we think , are lifeless – absorb human vibrations and energy so intensely that they can influence human life adversely as we|
The Dressing Table Shamoil Ahmad Even prostitutes were not spared during the riots ... Brijmohan could only lay his hands on Naseem Jaan's dressing table. It had a life-size mirror encased in an ivory frame. The mirror was cloudy and the hair oil, nail polish and lipstick stains on the frame gave it a rundown look. But when he reached home and his wife cleaned it with a wet rag, the mirror began to sparkle. Brijmohan's wife was delighted. Turning from side to side, she looked at herself from all angles. Her daughters too did the same. Brijmoan had installed the dressing table in his bedroom. Everyone seemed to have fallen in love with it. At any given moment, some member of the family or the other was found in front of it. Brijmohan often wondered what secret lay behind the whore's dressing table that drew every beholder to it irresistibly. His daughters were glued to it, and his wife glazed at herself from different angels. Even he felt there was something attractive and appealing about his reflection in the full-length mirror. He wanted to go on looking at himself but it was difficult to stand face-to-face with it for long. Each time Naseem Jaan's image would appear before his eyes, crying and cringing, "Bhaiya, don't take away the dressing table. It's a memento from my nani...." "Get lost, you whore!" Brijmohan would shake his head violently and move away from the mirror. Gradually Brijmohan noticed a change in his daughters. They had stood in the balcony in the past too, but not quite the same way. Now, even Chhoti, the youngest one, plastered her face with talcum powder and lipstick, and laughed at loud as she stood in the balcony. That day too, the three of them were out on the balcony amusing themselves. Standing quietly on the road Brijmohan was watching their antics. Suddenly, Badi, the eldest one, stretched out her arms out provocatively, displaying the contours of her breasts. Manjhli, the middle one, bent over to look down and then started scratching her back. As if on cue, a young man standing near the paanwala smiled and looked up at the balcony. Chhoti nudged Manjhli and all three of them broke into laughter. Brijmohan's heart began to sink. His premonitions were coming true. He had experienced this fear the day he had robbed Naseem Jaan of her dressing table. There was a veritable pandemonium when the rioters had entered the prostitute's kotha. Brijmoahn and his compankons barged into Naseem Jaan's quarters and grabbed what they could. As Brijmohan picked up the dressing table, Naseem Jaan began to scream and shout. When he did not heed her, she fell at his feet, "Bhaiya this is an heirloom. Please don't take it, let it be .... Bhaiyaji." "Get lost, you whore!" Brijmohan yelled, giving her a mighty shove with his leg. As she fell, her sari rose up to her hips, but she quickly pulled it down and grabbed Brijmohan's legs. "Bhaiya, this is a momento from my nani ... bhaiya, leave it....!" Brijmohan pulled his leg free and kicked her hard. Naseem Jaan doubled ;up in pain. The buttons on her blouse burst open exposing her breasts. Brijmohan flashed hisknife. "Shall I chop them off!" Terrified, Naseem Jaan cowered in a corner. Brijmohan went down the stairs carrying the dressing table, immensely pleased that he had robbed Naseem Jaan of an heirloom. It was obviously a prized possession. Her great-grandmother and mother would have dressed up before it to entice their clients. Naseem Jaan might buy a better dressing table but she could never get this one back, thought Brijmohan. Like the other rioters who had indulged in plundering and looting, he felt great satisfaction in the knowledge that they had succeeded in robbing a community of its heritage. Brijmohan noticed that each member of the family was changing subtly. Click here to read the rest of this story (108 more lines)
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