How Short can a Life be...!!!

Friday afternoon, after a heavy lunch it is really troublesome to sit in front of the system and code. however I have decided to take some time off and write my long awaited article. I just realized its been a year since I last published my work... well I guess I never found some time for my passion, that's why people say women are such a distraction.

Men we cant live with out women or can we live with them. well you must have guessed it rite I am single again and its time for me to do what I like the most. this write up is a true story I encountered in my sixty Days of what people call as paid collage (TCS ILP Training).

I was riding my new Bullet with my friends, we had hit the road to Madikeri (coorg). I was listening to "I,m into u" by JLo, it was strange that my Music player's volume kept increasing and started to vibrate in a weird manner... 05:00 Am my alarm danced on my bed. It was the month of October, winter was intense then. I could barely open my eyes, my dreams were shattered. I had to get ready; seven was my office.

last night's party had knocked me out; I still had the hang over, I was running late. I some how managed to peek in with out anybodies notice, I spotted a corner seat next to a girl. she looked in her yearly 20's, skinny and dark; well not exactly dark, brown to be precise. I grabbed my stuff and switched on my system, I could barely sit. twenty minutes passed I turned to check this girl out pretending to be stretching. she had beautiful eyes, black in color and bright. Her pointed nose suited her long face and broad lips, she had long wavy hair. she was not actually skinny like I had first realized.

"We have to work in pairs Mr Prashant told me before u came" she said as I was scanning her temple areas.

did she see me checking her out what a jerk I had been. I looked down trying to cover up then I looked at her eyes again. she smiled at me "I am Rashmi". she had a very commanding voice yet sweet. still recalling from my humiliating act I replied "I'm Prajwal, so what are we to do then?" trying to sound a little flirty.
"No idea" she snapped as she turned to her monitor.

for the second time in a day I had felt like a jerk already. we didn't speak after that she just minded her business. I headed to the mens room it was break time. though I do not understand much telugu, I knew enough to understand that I was the topic in the washroom. I couldn't resist my eagerness to find out what was going on.

"hey machaa... your partner is married man, she has a baby also... hahaha".

alright now I knew why I was the laughing stack. but then it didn't really matter to me. I didn't say any thing to any of those flocks, at that time their was something else running in my mind; I know a lot of people who have been married in their collage times, but having a baby???

During the lunch break I enquired more about her. she was married at the age of 18 in her first year of engn. and in her second year she was carrying. I found it very hard to digest the fact of carrying and attending collage. how in-human must her husband have been and what sort of parents was she having.

The following days the way I looked at her and spoke to her had changed. Although she never spoke anything about her personal life to me. We did interact as normal friends I started to help her out in all ways I could. I had noticed she never wore any toe ring nor she wore the sacred chain(Mangalyam); all I could see was a pair of gold bangles that married women normally wear. I knew she used to go home every week and she always used to be late, the least I could do was cover for her in her absence. Every Monday morning I used to wonder how hard it must have been for her to maintain her kid, family, and work at the age of 21.

I felt that what we undergo in our life's are nothing compared to what she must have seen at this young age. people of my age sit and discuss about their new crushes, their girlfriends and their breakup's. probably she would be laughing to herself to see immature people like us.

It had been more than a month now and I had digested the fact and that their was nothing that could be done until one fine Monday morning, I found her weeping very badly in her desk she was accompanied by a couple of girls. I wondered what had been wrong. Rashmi never shared anything personal to me and I had no talking terms with her in these matters.

Her husband was dead. I found out in the lunch break. her life was ruined I felt like somebody just punched my abdomen hard. I couldn't eat, I felt terrible for her. I was just wishing that somebody tells me it was a joke, It wasn't. At the age of studying she was married and at the age of getting married, she is a widow. life sucks, I know but why her of all the people in this world. she had began her life very early and now it ended before she could realize the reality.

A week later it was the last day of the training period. she was their, everybody shared and expressed what a wonderful time and fun they had in this sixty days. Soon it was her turn to share, she looked like she would faint any minute. she just walked down to the stage. she looked down at the flore, I could see tears in her eyes; she was fighting it hard. "I am in no mood to say anything" she started, her voice was still commanding and sweet but had no life "I am also aware that I may not get another chance to speak after today. I just want to thank Mr prashanth and all my group mates for their help and support. and I also want to thank Prajwal for being a very good friend of mine". she had mentioned my name. she walked fast to her place and held her head down for the rest of the time.

today two months and two weeks later,
I still wonder who is to be blamed. was it her fate, or the god for being so cruel, or is it her husband to be careless to drive after being drunk and ending up dead.
I feel it was their parents, her parents who got her married when she didn't know what marriage and commitments meant, and they are gonna weep the rest of their life looking at their daughters life which they spoiled themselves.



Article by
Prajwal K V