• alxndr_ 75w

    On a clear windy day, a young girl from Surat climbed a mountain she was not supposed to. Every step on that mountain wasn't planned but rather a motion of rebellion: for it was that stage in her life already.

    "I'm not even alive."

    The thought repeated in her head along with pent up frustration and anger. Her brothers, she thought about how much she hated them ."Ever since papa died they've treated me so badly." Three years they've been on the island; for three years her spirit has laid dormant. Mauritius was a beautiful paradise but paradise was an insufferable reminder for all that was gone: the long stretch of sand along the beaches was a reminder that her friends were not there to run wild with; the lush greenery of the plateauing landscape had no one to explore with; the warm shallow water was after sometime un-inviting and the perfect weathered days in the camps were joyless without the time she used to spend with her father in the balcony, reading as many book as he would happily give her.

    "Why are you always mopping around? All you talked about when you were little was traveling." Her second brother's words came to her mind along with his face and how much she wanted to smack it. "Listen to me, never go up that mountain or you'll have to live there alone, do you understand?." Her oldest brothers words came up, his face too was even more tempting of a smack but also more scarier. She hated being afraid of him. The pace of her steps increased as her anger piled up; every step she took up that mountain was out of defiance and it felt exhilarating.

    Her brothers were never this serious and waspish before. It had always seemed to her that they had swallowed all of their glee on the day of their fathers funeral, a price for all of their tears. She will never know why they decided to leave their home thought: they told her the white men were not letting them do business anymore but she couldn't understand why that was a reason to sail away across the ocean to cut sugarcanes.

    Finally she was on top. It was a spectacular view: the water, which at one time lost its intrigue, captivated her; the waves from a distance seemed like those on rivers she saw back in her old home; the sky from above was so vast that it appeared to have expanded on all sides; the winds never sang as beautifully as this before; the land had colours so delightful that it made her forget she thought it was dull; she was glad to have disobeyed her brother. She thought about how it might be worthwhile to do it more often. After gathering herself and calming for her emotions, the realisation of having to go back into camp made her more and more despondent; having to be responsible all the time for everything from food and water, washing, cleaning to doing the chores of the employers wife and watching over their children. How her only happy moments are the times spent reading books she brought, and playing with the kids. The books she has read many times over but has never feel repetitive. She could have read them a thousand times over and still live through every moment with an unwonted experience .

    "You can't just do nothing, you have to be useful now." She had never imagined herself as a just hands to be used for convenience of others. That was all she now thought she was going to do; all she was expected to do and all who she was to be her whole life. "I'm not even alive. All the experiences of growing up with desires and being shaped by them. Those lives in all the books my papa and I shared, I'd thought that I'd atleast get one in my lifetime." She sat there on top of that mountain as tears began to impair her vision. As she wiped her face with arm, what she saw she couldn't comprehend. The moment before her arm touched her face, the sun was beaming down from about but after she had taken her wrist away from her eyes she found herself in the dead of night.

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    I'll try and finish this in the next part. Don't want to put it off like all the other stuff I start.

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