Dusk has fallen and Sunday will be over in few hours more. A house stands in dull and airless environment of the evening, but group of children is rioting outside. It is a house where a family of four resides and one of it is a man in his fifties and a girl in her twenties. The girl is lying on bed with a pillow pressed on her face. She is thinking about Shekhar and herself. Pillow cover is green, the green fabric which is generally used at hospitals. Shekhar is a protagonist of the book she has been keenly reading and loving. Shekhar is real.
The man enters a house; he has been out with one of his friends. He had perhaps a cheerful day at a racecourse. He removed shoes and immediately found his daughter napping. He hollered about odd timing of her sleeping. Indirectly it was to indicate his discomfort with her way of living which he was unable to change in spite of trying. It maddened him.
The man moved closer to the bed and stared at the Shekhar lying next to her dark frame of thick spectacles next to her fragile body. The girl got up quickly and slipped out of the room, to avoid any dialogue. On the way to staircase, she heard a voice "Is Shekhar a part of your syllabus for Chartered Accountancy? "
Just a single rhetorical question. There has been many such single ones poking her deeply.
