This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 9; the ninth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.
CAUTION: Violent description. Rated as an (A). So please read only if you are over 18 years of age.
Arjun gazed blankly around his room. This was the same room where he had grown up, brought up by his mother, alone. They had laughed, cried, rejoiced and suffered together in this very same room; the one single room with no furniture; the yellow and black paint on the wall which might have been white an eon ago. But as far as Arjun remembered; it had always been like this.
“The wall has the colour and texture of a sunflower. They are so unique, beta. You will never find such walls anywhere in this world. They are made only for a special person like you.” Sheena had created the fantasy for him while caressing his hair.
Young Arjun had completely missed the tears that had rolled down her hard cheeks.
Age had been steadily gaining on Sheena and income had continuously moved down the same curve. The once-upon-a-time appreciated and admired beauty, Sheena had slowly lost her brittle appeal after Arjun was born; and with time her agility, charm and ‘earning abilities’. That little ray of sunshine of her life had eclipsed the glowing light of her professional life.
“Mamma, what do you do?”, asked the innocent Arjun.
“I am a stage performer, darling… I dance”, Sheena lied without compunction.
But Arjun’s child-like yet inquisitive and shrewd mind was never satisfied with the answer. He always craved for more from her. His little mind failed to understand why his mother went to work at night instead of telling him bedtime stories, why nobody wanted to speak with him or play with him. He continued being a fool even at twenty. Twenty whole years he had spent in this very room; until one night, when his curiosity propelled him out of the door and he went looking for the truth.
It was a cold winter night. Whatever he had told his mother, Arjun wasn’t feeling the least bit sleepy. His mind was occupied with the thoughts about his mother’s dancing profession, the feeling of being left-out and neglected by her and the hidden excitement and pride at his beautiful mother dancing.
That night Arjun decided to follow his mother. And watch her dance.
He pretended to sleep early. Sheena got ready with care to leave to find the work that was hard to come by these days. Her wrinkled, pallid face, her tired body which bore all the imprints of time and hardship did not help. Earning enough money to feed Arjun and herslf was a chore that was becoming harder with every passing night. Half the time, she got to eat only one meal so that she could feed Arjun properly. And ironically she couldn’t take care of the very thing that earned the bread.
Tonight she needed the money badly. Arjun had been more difficult than usual and there was barely anything to eat at home.
The roads were dark and the biting wind, strong; her flesh was numb from waiting and she was freezing deep down to her bones. The possibility for anybody turning up was very bleak; but she had to try; try for Arjun, and herself.
Arjun kept a close trail, and waddled after his mother. She had never exactly told him where she worked; but he was at least not expecting her to walk to that place in such a freezing cold. He was shivering like a leaf. He thought of listening to his mother, and going back home to sleep under his blanket; when an intuition, Sheena didn’t know her son to be capable of having, stopped him in his tracks.
His mother had stopped walking now. She stood under the shadows, as if waiting.
“Maybe someone is coming to pick her up”, thought Arjun.
Sheena was waiting at her usual place. These days, only drunk, old men stopped their cars for Sheena. All the rest wanted the younger, prettier females. Sheena wanted to quit dragging herself through this every night after Arjun was born; but it was the only thing she knew how to do. Added to that. everyone knew what she was and nobody was ready to give her a day-job. Those who gave her her ‘night-job’, their wives refused to keep her due to their “dislike” for Sheena. The truth was that they didn’t trust their husbands. And it wasn’t their fault either; as their suspicions were well-founded. The men needed Sheena for what she used to be reputed for.
Almost half an hour had passed and not a single car had passed by. Sheena was thinking about the next morning. She didn’t even have money to buy a cup of milk for Arjun. Arjun was growing into a smart boy. Her thoughts drifted to her precious son and she smiled, unaware of the glow illuminating her face.
She was lost in her own smiling thoughts when the car screeched to a halt in front of her. A bald man in his fifties signaled her to come in. The glow disappeared as fast as it had appeared, as if someone had cut a wire somewhere. She went inside reluctantly. Beggars could not be choosers. She should consider herself lucky that the man had stopped.
The man was much older and more drunk than she had guessed. He parked the car in the same shadows she had been standing in and without a word, pounced on her. He started tearing at her only pieces of clothing, his hands moving harshly all over her body; pinching, clawing squeezing, hurting her. She pleaded through broken whimpers for him to be gentle; but he ignored her, as they mostly do, the beasts in expensive clothing. Her clothes were falling apart along with her skin. His hands and teeth were attacking her from everywhere. Her voice was choking due to the immense pain she was going through as if even her old, battered and used body too, had limitations.
He freed himself of the expensive raiments like an animal shedding his borrowed human-costume and sodomised her. She gagged on the violence of it, the weight of it crushing her ribs, hitting her heart like a tonne of dropped bricks. Then suddenly he entered her with a vicious, hard push. She felt the unbearable and jolting pain shake her body while a forgotten, drenching wetness rapidly overflowed between her legs. She prayed for her life between sobs and silent screams. Her eyes burned from the continuous flow of tears that wouldn’t contain. But even between the breaths she struggled to take, she recognized the face on the other side of the glass that was staring at her with wide, bloodshot red eyes.
*
A few men out for fishing had found Sheena’s body drowned in a nearby lake. The small town authorities declared it as a simple case of suicide, ignoring the injuries all over her body. The only thought spared was, ‘Good riddance!‘.
*
Arjun wiped his tears. He had lost his beautiful mother forever. He had lost her because of his foolishness, as he had never tried to be anything else but that, a fool. He had never tried to find out the truth earlier. And when he finally had, he stayed there to witness that abominable misery and didn’t do anything about it. He was responsible for her death; he was responsible for what she was as he never worked, never shared the burden, never tried. She had to work to feed him; to take care of him, the worthless fool. The fool within him had led to his mother’s death; and now the fool within him compelled him to give up his own life too. A fool had no right to live.
He looked at the empty phenyl bottle lying near him even as his eyes drooped close.
Little did he know that he had become the fool he was because he had stubbornly survived every crude method his scared and hapless mother had used to kill him even before he was born.
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Maverick Misfit 
SHOCKINg.. is what i will say .. You will not beleive it but this has really jolted me , For a few months ago.. I had to go to one of such incidents .. the only difference was it was a Beautiful girl.. who took a wrong decision for a quick buck..
But thats the reality of being poor and other things that are called LIFE..
This Story is really for 18+ as you said .. and it has really brought me the feeling the sickening feeling i had when i saw the program I had written about http://mann-bikram.blogspot.com/2010/02/crime-watch-sick-f-men_27.html .
Such Men should be BROUGHT to justice.. I am sure people will say why did the lady go.. But the person involved is equally responsible.. I Am a believer of this…
Sad Arjun had to see all this .. But it would be a pity if he gave his life, he has to be strong.. Grow up.. do something in his life and maybe Save one GIRL who is in similar situation.. Thats what he should be AIMING for and DOING…
I hope he does that .. and does survive and wakes up and makes something of his worthless life.. Cause NO LIFE is worthless..
sorry i got carried away .. took a lot of space but there are some things that i strongly beleive in …
VERY well written .. EXCELLENT
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I am sorry I just couldnt read it after a point… it was so damn chilling! this is the best narrate story I have EVER read… brilliant work Sherya…
All the best for BAT!
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You sure have earned it, yours is the second BAT-9 post I read and already the bar has been set so high!
All the best for BATOM Guria!
Read Up mine: Murali – Fool
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Awesome work…seriously awesome
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Guria…This story though fiction must have been true for someone somewhere, sadly! Very disturbing, very gripping, very saddening…
How your words make a deep impression on the reader says a lot about your skills…Gr8 job!!
ATB for BATOM 9
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Very nice … and very well written!!!
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Very nice story and very well written…All the best for BATOM!!!!
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Yes, it is an 'A'. Topped with rationality and objectivity.
Yes, it is quite larger macrocosm for the word 'Fool'…
Somehow, it is not just foolishness, it is beyond that.
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Its brilliant!!! I know its a fiction here but these kinda stories are true some where. I am speechless.
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Nice story..narrated with something very close to perfection…
All the best
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Superbly narrated, (the cautionary note is a very responsible step I must say I appreciate that as much as I appreciate your story)
The compulsion imposed by the Marshall to name all the posts simply as 'fool' can be seen as an advantage in your case. After reading such a passive title, one is swept off his/her feet when one reads the hard hitting narrative.
The ending was especially surprising a twist in the tale as they say.
I must agree with Murali, you have already set the bar high!
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I got goosebumps reading this wonderfully written story.I am speechless !!
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@ Guria
Indeed…I too got the goosebumps and shivers in my body when I read it…
So well narrated, expressed:) and interwoven the fool topic!
~Bow to U abosolutely!!
~Keep the Spark Alive..
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Hey ….
I have an observation here….
It may be a coincidence i guess.
When i read this story, it was a deja vu not just hunch, that i read it somewhere. Not just the story, the characters and the narration.
And it took me nearly 5 hours to find the source….its pawan's story @
http://m4maruvada.blogspot.com/2009/12/all-in-days-work.html
check d link….u may feel the hunch too
btw, was that the source of inspiration for ur post??
I hope the readers will enjoy both the posts. Thanks buddy 🙂
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@Mahesh:
You are absolutely right about Pawan's story, it indeed is similar to mine or rather mine to his, but it was unintentional as I'd completely forgotten about his story. This one wasn't inspired from that one, and this story was more about the meaning of the word 'fool' quite literally, and not his mother. It was the conflict and irony of the boy's condition, that is more simply termed as 'a fool'.
Thanks for comparing me to Pawan's, I consider that a compliment, but I don't think the characters are the same (in that one there isn't any character similar to Arjun, is there… nor are the women concerned in each piece have the same personalities… if I'm not wrong?) and more to the point, Pawan's and my narrations are entirely different! As it happens his is more raw, elaborate and impactful than mine. Only I guess the setting was the same, even though the outcome was different.
But the reason behind the long reply to you: I really feel bad that you felt my work wasn't original. Sorry about that. To a respected reader from a writer.
Guria.:)
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This comment has been removed by the author.
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Story is good. Only the boy takes 20 years to understand seemed far fetched to me. Sons and daughters of prostitutes learn too early to understand the profession of their mother.. and get used to the reality. I wish the boy had realized it early and helped his mother .. what was he doing until he grew to 20 years.. is the question your story did not provide an answer to..
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Incredibly sad!Dark,disturbing and depressing stories are usually not my cup of tea for the after-effects of reading such stories stay with me for a long time ):
However I think you've done full justice to the topic of 'fool' in this case.
Reality is way too harsh for the less fortunate beings on earth.And that is what this 'true' story depicts.
Well-written!
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Guria
Nice to see you back at BAT.
your post indeed having your signature. When I read it i knew that Pawan had narrated this plot earlier….but on the same I knew you dont copy. Honestly speaking I had a smile. When finished your story.
till now your post is best for this BAT.
Keep smiling.
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@Bikram: Yes, it is indeed. The Fool was Arjun and he had to see what prostitutes have to go through to earn. It was tried in the post to get acroos two things, Arjun the Fool, and his mother for depicting the lives of prostitutes. Thanks! Your comment made me feel we did something right! :))
@Tavish: Thank you! So did you finally finish the story?! :))
@Murali: Thank you and, Welcome to MM! :))
@Swayambhu: Thank you! And welcome aboard MM. =)
@Vibhuti: Welcome to MM… So glad to have you here! =)
Honestly, in order to show a bit of reality I used the graphic detailing of what any prostitute usually has to go through. But the main plot was about Arjun who witnesses that. Who is a fool quite literally, a mental retard.
Thanks! :))
@Shilpa: Welcome onboard! Thanks and Thanks! :))
@Harini: Thank you dear… =)
@rahulamigo: Thanks and welcome! :))
@ARJuna: Your words never fail to gladden my heart…
Thank you, and you aren't half bad yourself! 😀
@Kavita: I could make an habit of seeing you here regularly! 😀
Thank you… 🙂
@Rachana: Welcome to Maverick Misfit! Thank you soo fr the wonderful words… =)
@aativas: Hey, I was looking forward to your comment but I guess you didn't catch a few nuances of the story. I used the meaning of the title quite literally, i.e. as a mental retard. Not the fooled or the foolish. Arjun only understood what he was told, what he was shown. What would he know of a prostitute? But Arjun wasn't foolish, or stupid. Now imagine his reactions when he sees his mother with the man… Point to be noted: Sheena wasn't raped, but it was something she had to face as a prostitute, most do, as rarely anyone is gentle and nice with them. Now did I make any sense? :))
@Sammy: I'm sorry if I have upset you! 😛
But I did want you to read, wouldn't have asked if I knew otherwise. Anyway, it's just a fiction. But, THANK YOU sooo much! 😀
@Makk: Okay firstly, thank you! Secondly, I have now re-read Pawan's story and there's NOTHING similar with his plot to mine. The only similarities are: A prostitute with a child, who dies and the weather. Nor the prostitute was raped in my story or she died because of it. And the title of the story is 'Fool' so, the story is about Arjun, the mental retard, what he is, what he sees, and how the mental retard grows up in his own limited manner and not at all about the prostitute who dies. Thirdly, I wanted very badly to get back on BAT hence this hurried post. Fourthly, no one ever even should have had the thought that there may be a chance of the post being copied. And finally, THANK YOU very much for your vote of confidence! :))
Smiles, Guria. 🙂
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The best one I have read till now… Trust me, my heart sweeled up on reading this awesome piece of work.. I found the narration flawless..
Excellent..!!
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A very well narrated story indeed…it was sad though…
Awesome read…
All the best for BAT 9
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hehe yeah i didn… i couldnt read after the “the weight of it crushing her ribs” thing… the visuals that formed we like crazy… but i did read the whole thing after sometime. 🙂
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Well, I respect your point of view.
but I found that plot similar.
Postitute
her child
both tattered & having miserable life.
the difference was He narrated it from prostitutes as main character and you kept child in center stage.
and of course that made all difference.
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@Chanz: Thank you so much! And it's good to see you here! :))
@geeta: Thank you very much! :))
@Tavish: ah, so finally you did fnish.. if u'd asked me I'd have told you to just read the last para… Kiddin'! 😀
@Makk: I guess you mean the setting. For the child in the other story had no role to play. Plot that is, the story is entirely, absolutely differnt! And most prostitutes have battered miserable life, if they are not the high society call-girls. But thanks for taking care to comment so many times. Thanks a tonne! =)
More Smiles, Guria. 🙂
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may I be frank, Sreya?
1. factually speaking the plot was very clear, as wanted it to be, from the very beginning.
2. so the whole point of reading further was the narration. Right?
3. But, I think(and you know!!), you have done better, before.
4. Still, I vote for your post.
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Shocking and hard hitting.
But what amazes me is the hypocrisy on the surface of it. This is known as the 'oldest profession in the world'. Yet our 'moral police' shout from the roof top that this is 'against our great culture and tradition'.
A millennium or so ago… this class of people were referred to as the “nagar badhus”. They were given all kinds of facilities e.g., healthcare. Their children were not shunned by society.
If children born out of wedlock were labelled “illegitimate” or much worse (as is the norm now) some of our greatest Emperors would not have ruled. There would have been no Pandavas either. The list is very long indeed.
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Really poignant narrative. Loved reading it. But it did not have the desired effect on me as I had recently read Pawan's post and a bit of deja vu feeling. But definitely yours is a different take – his story follows the woman while you follow the child. And perspective makes a world of difference in a story.
Also thanks for your encouraging comments on my blog and mentioning me in Blogaton comment. From votes, not too many seem to have appreciated my poetry. I am glad your one of those who liked it.
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Hi Guria,
first of all, thanks for liking my post and voting for it in BATOM. 🙂
and this story of yours is most exceptionally narrated and positively riveting! though of course, it is sad and reflects the harsh realities of life..
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The last line shook me…
I wasn't sure about one thing.. did he kill his mother?
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@RSV: I don't think this as my best either but you really know that I like telling stories and not one for twists… But you still voted for me, and that honour is all mine! Thank you! :))
@Roshmi: I am with you on this a 100%, you know! And funnily, the first one to cast stones will be the one to visit them… Good to see you back in here! =)
@The Fool: Very seriously, it is not only the perspective that is different, but I really am tired of saying that… Your post was really refreshing and I'd enjoyed it a lot! Thanks for your comment, and Welcome to MM! :))
@Mehak: I had really enjoyed the vibes of your post, no need to thank me, reading you was a pleasure! And thank you! Hope to see you around! :))
@Indianhomemaker: That was my first thought too…
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i like your blog! check mine out:
http://youdidwhaaat.blogspot.com/
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