Sharmishtha Basu is an unemployed artist, writer who is out to test her works, see if they can help her to build an “unorthodox” career, a path followed by many before, some has been blessed with success, most have not, let us see what you make of her attempts! A failure or success- it all depends on you. These are pieces from her book, the book is available on createspace and amazon-
This is a chapter from my own life, the reason why I cant go out and look for a job like you guys do and live a normal life, because the monsters of this book hovered around me for too long, to ensure that my life gets screwed up as much as possible, they succeeded in material sense, that is a credit I will give them without least hesitation. Read it with an open mind and if you are Indian, woman better believe it. I have done my duty, believing truth or not is your choice.
II. Vision of hell:
The harmless stalkers all of a sudden became menacing. Not only menacing they became filthy. Filthy as only human-beings can be. It appeared as if I have all of a sudden woken up from sleep and have discovered that I have been transported to the land of demons.
My scooter’s brake became as moody as weather, it was not hidden inside the body, it was out in the open and the brake started to fail too frequently, unpredictably. The vehicles out on the street started to get attracted toward me and my scooter like iron and magnet. And the drivers seemed to be quite amused by the whole incident! The funniest part was they were either driven by extremely low class people who had well dressed women as passengers or women themselves.
During the next few months I spent there I got quite a vivid idea about what hell looks like and its dwellers too.
Then truth dawned on me, I still remember that night, I was sitting upstairs when Sulata came with a plate of sweet dish. “I have made it especially for you.” She said.
She went downstairs and I took a spoonful and gave the remaining to Anita. She gobbled it up happily.
An hour or so later Sulata asked me if I can come downstairs and give her company for an hour. “Abhishek is not here, some of his colleagues want to download something from the computer, and I don’t want to stay alone with them.”
I felt a little uneasy, why I don’t know. I told my mother to call me half an hour later on any pretext and went downstairs. Yes, I am one of those who can’t refuse a request and thus suffer like all doers of nice things do. After all, no good deed goes un-punished!
I settled down in Sulata’s bedroom, Sonu was sleeping peacefully in the bed. I was feeling a little drowsy Sulata asked me to lie down and take a nap. I refused. I did not felt very comfortable with the idea.
“What will you do if someone takes some obscene pictures of you and blackmails you or traps you in flesh trade?” she suddenly asked me.
I told her the simple truth, “If someone ever tries to blackmail me I will ask him to publish it in the newspaper or make a leaflet of it and distribute it in streets and if someone plays some funny game with my core principles, I will leave no stone unturned to destroy him or her. No power in this earth will be able to save him or her from me.” Most probably my cold tone convinced her that I meant it, which I did.
“But you know, if you make someone’s daughter suffer, someone will torture your daughter too right?” She remarked in a cold, weird tone.