She never knew that, her life would turn into a stalemate of despair, hope and aspiration. She hardly knew that, outside her mother’s precinct, life would change. On leaving her mother’s precinct, the life begins to mourn; over the deathly silence, innocence acquires the probing stance. Her naiveté’s called for comfort, which she was used to; instead, she received scary scr......atches of coarse hand. She coils her body and soul to hide the tragic invasion. The day her innocence cried, she understood the madness of the world; outside the precinct of her mother she encountered a different world.
With harsh vagaries of life, her chirping existence weaned and the boisterous charm of a young lady vanished into a thin air. She was lynched and the circumstantial truth weaved farcically, the tortuous moments. The day truth made her cry; she realized that, she is far away from her mothers lap.
Long spells of torturous moments with the passage of time, turned as earned dividends of her life. Whenever she tried to barter the deal for peace, the benefactors rewarded her with hurt.
She refuses now, to contest the lies of pretending truth; she knows that no reasoning in the absence of trust can ever prevail upon her. The arduous trail of apprehensions and expectations graphically depicts her life. She knows that outside the precinct of her mother’s house, the world is different, and no yelling or cries will fetch her any tender caressing. She knows that there is a price tag attached with the truth and that is hurt. And she holds the truth.