A Voice for Change

 "Idhar nahi karne ka, log dar jayega!" Chaudhari Chacha admonished me and my friend for letting our desires run wild outside the hospital OPD. Onlookers gave us disgusting looks. Some stood transfixed, cursing our audacious ways. Others giggled, and threw intermittent glances from the IPD above. With quite a few, it was, "Mera number kab aayega?" look. But none's intestines had the musculature to shoo us away, except the self appointed  moral police of the medical college, Chaudhari Chacha!  "Chacha, viva hai. Practice karne dona. Halka lagega!" I requested him with folded hands.  "Idhar nahi, patient log darneka! Common room mein jao. Chalo, bhago!" Common room was common to girls applying lips to their pouts, some others gossiping about the new lecturer in campus, few enjoying their unrestricted afternoon seistas and many bustling out of this overtly feminine room.  With no respite from Chacha, we picked up the objects of our fondling but

 Received this freshly, this morning. The postman with feathery appendages, cooed on the windowsill, till I gave a hand to it. The parchment paper was thin, the inked words bold, and the biggest surprise came to me when I found it was handwritten. Gosh!! Was it from the Rigveda or so? In the era of print, who writes in ink? Seems some silly joke, I thought yet the ruins of my sensibility urged me to read it. I fear a terrorist threat, so reading it aloud with you,  Dear Aparna,  This is a soul in distress, writing to you from Janakpuri. Remember we met in the Forests of Enchantments? It was so thoughtful of Chitra to have brought about this meeting and many more, so that I could get inspired by modern women.        Whatever has been said about me-the strength, resilience and endurance is at one end, but right now my heart is doing somersaults thinking what you will say. Yet, I choose to bare it open. I HATE RAM for what he has done to me. I hate to be called his wife. His love for me w