She smiled at her reflection in the dark. It all seemed like so long ago...
"I'm coming pa...” Tara glanced at herself in the mirror for one last time and ran to the hall, “I’m ready”, she smiled. Her father turned back and grunted, “You look nice.” She beamed. It wasn’t often that she received a compliment from him. It had never been the same since her mother died, or so she’d thought. That was 11 long years ago. Time, she’d assumed, didn’t heal well enough in her case. An average 17 year old and a passionate dancer, Tara had learnt to let life be, learnt to accept things as they were, learnt to love her father…
Her legs ached from the strain, but she was relieved. Dancing was not only her passion but also her only way of relieving stress. It had always worked, through 11 years. She turned on the lights to check the time.
“Let me get my shoes,” she raced back into her room. The phone began to ring as she searched. She kept looking as it went on and on, and she finally picked it up. Hearing the click of the parallel line and her father’s voice, she was about to put it down. And then she heard her name…
‘Was it really yesterday?’ She counted on her clock. She hadn’t opened the door since the previous evening. She was starving, but that’s not what was killing her. She turned off the lights and drew the curtains.
“…Tara’s dance today. I promise you, 5 o clock tomorrow.”
He, who was so distant and seemed so uncaring, had cancelled his plans for her. She was too happy for words.
“Do you think I care?” It was a woman’s voice, “You promised me a dinner and I’m sick of it Rahul. When on earth is she turning 18 and why do we have to wait?”
“Soon, soon. It’s not my fault. Her stupid bitch of a mother left her everything. A few months and a couple of signatures and then I never have to see her again. We'll go to Geneva, just as you always wanted…”
THUD
She slammed the phone down. Tears just wouldn’t come. She’d always imagined that somewhere deep down, her father had loved her.
The music continued, she turned up the volume. She’d learnt to accept things as they were… and will always be…
"I'm coming pa...” Tara glanced at herself in the mirror for one last time and ran to the hall, “I’m ready”, she smiled. Her father turned back and grunted, “You look nice.” She beamed. It wasn’t often that she received a compliment from him. It had never been the same since her mother died, or so she’d thought. That was 11 long years ago. Time, she’d assumed, didn’t heal well enough in her case. An average 17 year old and a passionate dancer, Tara had learnt to let life be, learnt to accept things as they were, learnt to love her father…
Her legs ached from the strain, but she was relieved. Dancing was not only her passion but also her only way of relieving stress. It had always worked, through 11 years. She turned on the lights to check the time.
“Let me get my shoes,” she raced back into her room. The phone began to ring as she searched. She kept looking as it went on and on, and she finally picked it up. Hearing the click of the parallel line and her father’s voice, she was about to put it down. And then she heard her name…
‘Was it really yesterday?’ She counted on her clock. She hadn’t opened the door since the previous evening. She was starving, but that’s not what was killing her. She turned off the lights and drew the curtains.
“…Tara’s dance today. I promise you, 5 o clock tomorrow.”
He, who was so distant and seemed so uncaring, had cancelled his plans for her. She was too happy for words.
“Do you think I care?” It was a woman’s voice, “You promised me a dinner and I’m sick of it Rahul. When on earth is she turning 18 and why do we have to wait?”
“Soon, soon. It’s not my fault. Her stupid bitch of a mother left her everything. A few months and a couple of signatures and then I never have to see her again. We'll go to Geneva, just as you always wanted…”
THUD
She slammed the phone down. Tears just wouldn’t come. She’d always imagined that somewhere deep down, her father had loved her.
The music continued, she turned up the volume. She’d learnt to accept things as they were… and will always be…
24 comments:
whoa! deep!!
really nice :) :)
lovely...priya...i never expected that ending..
ps:why don't you put this up in the story book??
Kahani?!
hey u hv a nice blog!!
Why a lot of stories have a negative ending!
@barath: thanks!
@vishesh: cool, ya i will
@abhishek: i'm sorry, but i don write too many stories, so the negative ending was jus an impulse
:)
damn gud!! :)
nice..cool pic 2..
@viswesh: :D
@jaya: i'm overwhelmed
@nitesh: really ? :)
Hee HEE!!
Lie that *eeeeeeeeeeee* ( in that very cute pic!!)
itsokay!!!
nice blog!!
@abhishek: thanks a lot
Wonderfull....!
Pain...sadness..tears....darkness...
@standbymind: i'm glad you like it
Quite similar to a lotta stuff i'v read.BUT.Why does every single person who writes a sad story be all "I wrote a story with a sad end and now I'm all thoughtful and brooding".That's what most ppl who write these kinda stories think.
Vshnu
@vshnu:
i dono why all the stories ppl write r lik this.
actually i wouldn know cos this is only story i've actually writtten
plus, i wasn't brooding, if u wer, jus shows your level of emotions. thats good
no.wht i meant is most ppl think dat.n i shud know.this is similar to most hot chicks.give dem a camera n dey take a pic of a lawnchair n its shadow in blk n white n think.Oh now im all brooding and deep.
@vshnu: wateva
tht was smething good enuf to b in chicken soup!!!way to go girl
You've got sum serious issues.not wit da story.wit ur self image.
Vshnu
n d story aint bad.
vshnu
@niyati: thanks a ton
@vshnu: look who's talking
I know.me telling u d story's gud wen my own stuff is...well..beyond great.its an honour.yeah.but take it well k?;)
Vshnu
sir yes sir
gud stuff gal :)
Very nice :)
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