Short Story of Brave Woman – A BRAVEHEART
Photo credit: duane_j from morguefile.com
“Run, Rashmi, run,” Susheela screamed as loudly as her punctured lungs allowed.
“No, mom, not without you,” Rashmi screamed back, endless stream of tears rolling down from her eyes and blood trickling form the gashes on her face and body.
“Run …” Susheela’s cough brought out bubbles of blood on her lips, “save yourself.”
“But, mom, you…”
“Forget about me. Run. Get help…”
Rashmi ran for her life, literally.
***
Susheela looked helplessly as the assailant stabbed the iron rod viciously.
***
Half an hour later, the police and Rashmi found Susheela on the roadside in a pool of blood. An iron rod was sticking out of her left eye, which was mutilated beyond recognition. Her swollen face bore numerous blunt force trauma marks. The right eye and swollen lips were open. It was difficult to tell where blood ended and where skin started.
***
About an hour-and-half earlier…
***
… Susheela and Rashmi were returning home from a movie. After alighting from the bus, they started walking towards their apartment complex, which was about a kilometre away. Being a new and developing area, the streets were still kutcha and dark. They were eating pea nuts and discussing the movie animatedly.
Suddenly, a white Maruti Omni screeched to a halt beside them. The side doors slid open violently. One person jumped down, violently pushed Susheela down and pounced upon Rashmi. He started dragging her by her arm into the Maruti.
A struggle ensued between her and her assailant. Meanwhile, Susheela recovered from her initial shock and joined the struggle. The person behind the steering wheel jumped out and started bludgeoning Susheela with a baseball bat. A couple of hefty blows broke her forearm and a few ribs but not her spirit.
‘My daughter’s safety first. No pain, no pain, no pain…’ she started chanting as if it were a mantra.
She ignored the blows and pounced upon the second assailant. She tore his hair from the scalp and slapped him as hard as she could. He winced and backed off a couple of feet.
Notwithstanding her pain Susheela did not ignore Rashmi who was struggling bravely but seemed to be losing the fight. Susheela moved between her daughter and her assailant and pushed him violently. He tripped and fell supine on the ground. Without wasting even a second – she knew that that was all the time she had – she kicked violently with her stiletto-heeled right foot, which landed accurately on the target – his crotch. The assailant screamed and doubled over with both hands covering his crotch. Susheela did not let go of the momentary advantage. She kicked once more, this time with the stiletto heel and the target was the lower abdomen. The heel pierced and damaged the private parts of the assailant. He fell unconscious.
Susheela’s luck ended there when a fiercely swinging iron rod landed on her jaw. She fell on the road benumbed and fast losing consciousness. She saw her daughter struggling with the assailant in vain. She knew there was no time. With both her arms she held on to the legs of the assailant as if they were conjoined inseparably and screamed to her daughter even as the assailant stabbed her chest with the iron rod.
“Run, Rashmi, run,” Susheela screamed as loudly as her punctured lungs allowed.
***
Rashmi identified one of the assailants – the driver – as a mechanic in an automobile workshop near their apartment complex. He used to tease her, pass lewd remarks and stalk her. She had seen the second assailant in the mechanic’s workshop a few times. The mechanic and his friend were arrested after a three-day manhunt and remanded to custody.
***
The scent of agarbattis and camphor permeated throughout the apartment. Rashmi and her father stood in front of a life-size blowup of Susheela smiling beatifically. A small oil lamp was glowing in front of the photograph. A garland of fresh roses was dangling languorously from the top corners of the beautiful photo frame.
After paying their daily respects the father and daughter moved away from the photograph.
Rashmi hugged her father tightly and both shed silent tears.
***
… and Susheela smiled.
***
By Shyam Sundar Bulusu
Author’s remarks: All the characters and situations portrayed in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
This short story is my humble homage and tribute to all those bravehearts that are struggling and fighting the “evil” every day.
