Muddling Roots

She was wearing a pink salwar and a black printed kurta. A pink chunni covered the upper half of her body. She was wearing white plastic blocks that had pink platforms. When only hundred meters were left she saw three boys riding a bicycle crossing her. The boys were somewhere between twelve to thirteen years of age. They were wearing blue shorts with a purplish hue and red-checked cotton towels were tied around their waists. Both pants and towels lacked luster appeared to be over-used and hardly ever washed. Their feet were devoid of any protective covering of slippers and were in direct contact with the soil and pebbles of the ground. None of them had covered the upper parts of their dark rough patches of skin. Sukanya was still walking looking straight at her destination and was about to take the first turn.One of them commented What a pair of ******? Nice size. Another one followed Are you satisfied with your partner? Come we can have fun. By the way why are you wearing these sandals? Sukanya was shocked. I cannot react violently. I cannot be aggressive Sukanya thought diplomatically. The boys are from nearby villages. They are perhaps not well taught. Sukanya was experiencing a cultural shock in her own land amongst her own people.Almost all the female characters in most of the stories in this book have had similar experiences which led to the reshaping of their behavior ideology and interpretation of a society where they take birth mature and feel secure without knowing that their security is somewhat confined to the four walls. The world outside is waiting to butcher not only their physical but also their intellectual growth. The butchers may come in any size age and form. They are excellent shapeshifters.