Those were still things she could deal with, but what she could not deal, along her way were more tangible problems….

Worrying for food,

Worrying for safety

Worrying to be fine

Worrying for compassion

Will the world give her a chance to survive, and if so, will they allow her to put her terms on the plate?

She was aware of millions who were not living at all in their own terms, millions who just were living or being puppets to survive the show, to go home alive at the end of the day, to be able to fend for the small children which have been their only masterpiece in life, something they look up to, to amend ways through this world, to create that small place for the children, even if not enough for them to dream it had to be enough to breathe, to become one of them when the children grew up at least.

Will the world not take away from her all that she had built so far?

Was this the first step, her mother’s illness towards destruction?

I am sure every single day, many of us are dealing with these issues, these worries.

In a world of men, women still tug their fears somewhere deep in their heart.

Women are not free, they are still slaves to the slavery which promises grand world tours but the promises fade and the grandeur vanishes when the terms and conditions change. People all over, live in fear.

So Shrum thought of trying, at the least she would lose all of it. She was not attached, she had very less to lose at that point so the fear, we guessed had dissipated slightly not finding any foothold, any strong point on which it could grow.

“What is fear? Huh….a mere parasite.” Shrum was brave and blood was young and hot. She ventured out, a girl who knew bikes, who knew Taekwondo, who desired to be on top of Chomolangma one day for reasons of her own, she shared it with only one person in her life time, the man who once pointed a finger to himself wanting her to go to him always. She shared it with him, went repeatedly, banged his doors so many time. One fine day she realised that the door won’t open for her the way she wanted, so she left trying. But, in her heart she would only go to him always, when weak, when tired to rest on his shoulders. She knew she did not need him close if he was happy away from her.

She went out, she had seen a lot of crevices and fissures, tricky traps too.

She used all her knowledge to dodge that rat faced big teeth fellow who called her sex siren 1 since there was one more such person. Initially like an ordinary man, he pretended to like her and she was apathetic, smitten by her own wounds.

But, then she knew he was scheming and plotting. Trying to be that one bright face which would not be denied the best job in the institute.

It is strange that often knowledge is not enough and you need to add more dimensions, presumably unnecessary often cynical dimensions to get anything in this world.

Shrum did not want to twist her finger to get the butter. She believed to change the bottle and not twist her finger, since she did not like twisting it. She did not believe in twists and turns, she was tired of so many imposed twists and turns of tales.

If you are even vaguely attached to a tale, any twist in it would make you feel the impact.

The training took her to coastal beaches and castles and chapels and churches.

The Konkan coasts.

She worked with another cranky person who was indirect yet the world could guess he was trying to lure a grief stricken girl who was not even noticing.

Well, she had no such intentions and stuck to herself.

One day he realised she was not bowing to him ever, he was decent enough to stop the little games and moved on.

Shrum felt later it was her training ground as the games grew big later in her life.

But, he punished her….how?

Well, the rent of last month of his stay, he gave to her and instructed her to pay it to his landlord.

She went a little shaken by what she would meet, a few precautions in mind

-don’t enter any house, room.

-be strict

-do not talk.

The place was a filthy, shabby place. There was a wine shop and a man with a thick moustache. To her relief he was shorter to her.

She looked around, peeping out of the bar were few shorter people.

The shrubs and bushes had three more men.

She was prepared for combat, if need be but then the need did not arise.

The short man took the money from a severe faced girl and stood as if stunned for a moment. Shrum knew she had won the battle, he had lost it inside.

“It’s good if he chooses you, why don’t you go with him. Your parents can have a support and you can stay in these regions forever.” A girl stricken by love, her colleague was smiling one day telling her this fact.

“Precisely since I do not love him.” I said.

“What the heck is love? We believe a woman can love anybody?” She said.

“Why don’t you marry anybody then, why wait for a man and all the drama?”

I was chagrined.

“Image Shrum, image. You have to be image conscious. The world runs on image. If I say I can sleep with anybody, well, you know the rest of the story.”

I looked at her, clapped my hands and just one thing escaped my lips.

“Wow! A jackal amidst sheep, I must say. You are so good in acting. Why don’t you try it?”

“As if you are some Sati or Savitri or whatever. If he is friends with benefits also with you, it will help you. You can also do such things.”

“Wow! You know me better than me. Good.” The Taekwondo in me rolled and glided within me to punch her on the face. I resisted punching her that day so hard that it gave me a fever in the evening.

She left after a month and called once after that, but then she knew me by then, never daring to contact again. I would say dare since she knew it’s wrong to tell a person to be something or someone, the person does not wish to be when it comes to personal, intimate choices.

Whom we choose to love?

Whom we choose to live with, whom we wish to marry?

How or what we choose to spend our lives in?

Which path we choose to live? If we cannot help a human live a life in a certain path, I think they have no rights to try manipulate minds for their selfish benefits or petty advantages or greater advantages.

Telling is fine, we all do at some point but pursuance is not, a Nono.

Precisely if that very person does not disturb your living pattern, whether they like it or not should not be of much concern to anyone.

If you can help somebody acquire something which can be good as per them, their paths then and only then it should be done and that I think is called help.

Help cannot be defined as any action or thought which has been considered for another person or living being by not keeping his or her best interest or the path they desire to follow in view.

If that is so, it is not help. It has many names, but not help.