Sparkle.
Story of discarded life.
One leg of the bench is broken, it limps when young Sparkle hunkers on it. A small ruffled, buttermilk white feather swipes on the bench, where she sits. The gush of naughty breeze drifts the feather again and descends it over her crossed lap like a luck in disguise.
However hard Sparkle tries to ignore it, the stubborn feather didn’t budge. Every time she picks it, to throws away, it naughtily comes back.
Few moments of combat, and Sparkle declares the peace. Or rather she declares love. She fondly picks it from the tail, and rubs its dishevelled hairs, and softly whispers, "You too, don't have a mummy?"
Perhaps the lifeless feather doesn't know what human relations can be?
What it means to be an orphan like wild, uncombed feather?
Somehow Sparkle feels a strong connection with that grubby feather. She wonders where has the winds hauled it from? Because like that feather, she too didn't know where she was scooped from!
She marveled the reason she was discarded like an unwanted feather, immediately after her mother's body shed her?
In 10 years of her life, all she knew about human existence was limited to the lackluster walls of the orphanage, Mamta. The caretakers say that she was found at the threshold of the orphanage, around the dusk.
******
A high pitched, inconsolable shriek rose to pierce the serenity of the Mamta garden. Sister Louiza was on her way to chapel. Her heart gasped loudly because she could immediately understand the painful cries of infants that intruded the otherwise dull silence of the orphanage. This happened often.
She knew the meaning. Once again a baby girl was discarded, like a used bloody rag. Her feet rushed to the gate, where lay a little swaddled bundle of blood and muscles. Eyes forced closed, round lips like bud rose petals, trying to complain about the unforgiving set of human, who mated either out of pleasure or force!
Though there were faceless humans coming over under the blanket of darkness, to abandon the infants for their own "perfect" reasons.
But today Sr Louiza’s heart lumped in her mouth. The little baby on seeing Sr Louiza, instantly stopped screeching. Sister saw that emotional shine on the baby’s forehead and plucked it from the ground.
The baby wasn’t yet ritually bathed!
Just wiped hastily, perhaps with an intention to get rid, earliest possible. The stains of blood pulled the baby’s wrinkled skin.
Sr Louiza grasped the baby and pressed her to her heart. Turning her tiny face towards Sr Louiza breast, making her lips round to suck the milk, the baby might’ve thought that it was the only way to dissolve hunger.
Sister immediately fed her with the bottle and lulled her to sleep in the cot, that lay extra in her room for meeting unexpected situations.
With daybreak, she opened her eyes and gave a cry to call. Sr Louiza couldn’t resist but call, "Welcome home Sparkle".
P.S- In India still there are people in remotely rural as well as highly civilized urban areas practicing female infanticide, for they consider a girl child as burden. There are other reasons too for the infants are discarded. My story is just a shove to bring out the evil practices prevalent. As humans we have always lived in dualities and ambiguities of our moral responsibilities. This is just a nudge.
