FF: MCH Prologue

My Cindered Heat Prologue

“Khushi hurry up! Khushi hurry up! Come here!” Her mother grabbed her hand as soon as she got up from the couch she had been munching chips on and leisurely watching Salman Khan movie. Her mom dragging her petite form, ran out through the big fancy wooden door of their mansion while scooping up a little girl from her stroller. Khushi could not understand as to why her mom had suddenly decided to have a run with her after a phone call, which she believed was her friend’s. She tried asking her mom, but she only heard her mom praying to God for their safety. Hearing her mom send prayers to Devi Maiya, she did the same, understanding that there is some trouble looming over their heads. Her mother hurriedly made her sit in the car’s front passenger seat, putting little girl on her lap, and securing both of them with seat belt, she herself got into the driving seat and backed the car out of the garage onto the road. The whole situation seemed to be far scarier than it seemed. First- because her mother never drives, the driver does. Second- the look on her mom’s face was terrifying, something that she had never seen before. Third- because her mother pulled up in front of what seemed like a dirty railway station, that they never visit, she’d been told it’s for poor people. Her mother quickly unfastens the seat belt, takes the little girl from her lap and helps khushi out of the car. They run as their lives depended on it, towards the train which had just started to depart. Amidst all the crowd and tension that clouded her mind, she lost track as to where her mother was. People pushed against her, and she fell to the ground. A helpless 8 year old khushi yells “ Maa!”

She wakes up with a jolt, sweat beads forming on her forehead, as she gingerly wipes them off. “It was that railway station again” she says to herself. This same scene has been haunting her from quite some time now. “Gosh, why do I have to be reminded of my past through these horrible nightmares?!?!”  She says frustrated to herself. The same image of herself plays again and again in her mind yelling “maa!” As far as she remember, she doesn’t have a maa. Then why? Then why does she have one in her dreams, no, nightmares. She takes a look at her bedside clock to see its only 3 in the morning, pitch black outside and she still have a couple more hours to sleep before she gets down with her day. But knowing very well that the nightmare have left her mind dishevelled, and she won’t get any sleep. She is now used to it as this has been a part of her otherwise scheduled life from past- 18 years. She decides to get out of her bed and get herself a shower followed by a good and hot black coffee.