Skip to content

Sirimiri

The Lifestyle Blogazine

Menu
  • Home
  • About Me
  • Disclosure
  • Feathers in my Cap
  • Fiction
  • Book Reviews
  • Humor
  • ThinkingAloud
  • My Ebook
  • Reviews
  • DIY. Health. Beauty
  • I Travel
  • Collaborations
  • Blogging Tips
  • Festivals
  • Newsletter
Menu

Short Story: A River Runs Through It – Part 6

Posted on 6 August 20217 January 2024 by Mayuri Sharrma

I worked hard in my fields, continued running errands and doing odd jobs for village folks, and looked forward to my biweekly visits to the Gurudwara. I caught my mother looking at me curiously when she thought I wasn’t looking. She never asked and I never shared either.

Yet another of my Uncles passed away and his widow, my Aunt, called for me. His lands were thoroughly neglected with no one to care for them, and poachers took advantage of them. Her son had wasted himself with drugs and women and her daughter was married abroad. She being illiterate and always confined to the house, did not know what to do.

Would I help, she wanted to know?

A tiny seed of compassion reared its head but I quashed it immediately. My mother had been like her once, but no one had shown her any mercy. Not even the women of the house.

I told her I would think about it and get back to her.

When I shared my proposal my Aunt was stunned. My condition was that she would have to transfer the lands in my name, in place of which I would drive away poachers, fence the land in, cultivate it, and give her ¾ of the money the yield earned, for as long as she lived. After which the land and its earnings were all mine. I asked her to think about it and walked away.

My Aunt sent for me the next day, agreeing to my proposal, and I started getting the legalities sorted immediately. As soon as the paperwork was done I set to work.

My workload increased but I was also proud to have acquired more land. My Uncles land had been twice my size, and even after he had sold a lot of it, a generous portion remained, which would mine in the future.

I was deep in thought during the Langar when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to see who it was and it was her. Soni. She raised an eyebrow questioningly towards me as she stood, swinging her plait left and right. I raised my eyebrow in return, as I stirred my ladle in a huge vat of Dal bubbling away.

‘Ki?’ (what?)she asked

‘Ki?’ (what?)I retorted

‘Aaj pucchega nahin?’ (Won’t you ask me today?) was her second question

‘Dasso.’(Tell)

‘Ki?’

‘Sawaal da jawaab’ (the answer to the question) I responded.

‘Sanjhi de nere mil mainu, aaj raati. Wadde bargat ke kol. Dassangi tenu’ (meet me on the banks of the Sanjhi river, near the big banyan tree tonight and I’ll give you my answer), and before I could respond she ran away.

I was speechless. This was the last thing I had expected. I was ecstatic even though I didn’t know what to think or do.

For the past few years, I had no thought in mind, except that of protecting my mother and later breaking free from that miserable life we led. I didn’t know any girl, for that matter when I tried to think if I had even spoken to any girl my mind drew a blank. So, I didn’t know how to interpret this change in Soni. I had no one whom I could ask either. I would have to meet her to find out.

I reached the big banyan tree to find no one there. I circled it to make sure and then sat down beneath it, waiting. The Sanjhi flowed peacefully, moonlight turning its surface to silver. Mixed emotions still pulled me both ways. While I was happy that it had come to this, I questioned what would happen next. Soni didn’t come for a long time. It was a prank I concluded, broken-hearted after a long wait. I got up, brushed my clothes off, and started walking home.

I had walked a little distance when something hit me sharply on my back, followed by a yell, ‘Oye! Kitthe chala tu?!’ (Hey you, where are you off to?) It was her, hurtling a pebble at me to get my attention.

I paused, then turned and walked back and stood in front of her. Standing within such close proximity to her I found my tongue had tied itself into knots and all my bravado had melted away.

‘Naam ki hai tera?’ (What is your name?) she asked

‘Jagga’

‘Tera?’ (yours?) I asked

‘Seebo’.

Silence. We both didn’t know what more to say.

‘Jagga? Ai bhi koi naa hon da hai, bewakupha sa!’ (Jagga? Is that even a name? So stupid it sounds!) she spat out, her eyes shining with mirth.

I suppressed a smile before I retorted ‘Mainu toh Seebo pasand hai’ (I like Seebo) my tongue was slowly untangling itself.

‘Seebo pasand hai ya Seebo da na?’ (Do you like Seebo or her name?) she asked naughtily, looking somewhere beyond my shoulder, not meeting my eyes.

‘Dono’ (both)

‘Haw! Tut te wada besharam seega!’ (My God, how shameless you are!)

‘Dekh le, aisa hi hoon’ (This is me) my heart was hammering.

 

Once the initial awkwardness was overcome we couldn’t stop talking. To each other, over each other. I told her she was ‘Soni’ to me and the reason behind that name, and it seemed to please her.

Her questions flew fast. Where did I live? With whom did I live. Was I married? How much land did I own?

I learned that she was the youngest of 8 sisters. Her father had passed away long ago, leaving them penniless. Her mother sewed to make ends meet and bring up her daughters, 4 of whom were unmarried.

After getting to know more about each other, I felt a kinship with Soni. We both didn’t have fathers and both of us had faced struggles growing up.

Mid conversation I realized that hours had passed and it was very late in the night, it was almost morning, and I stood up abruptly. Won’t the people in her house realize she was missing, I questioned her. They wouldn’t even know she was gone even if she disappeared for days was her reply, a bitter smile turning her soft face harsh. She turned down my requests of dropping her home and before I could argue further, slipped into the bushes and disappeared.

The first of our meetings were followed by many. We met twice a week, on the days she came to the Gurudwara. Even though I worked hard the whole day and, thanks to these nightly meetings, hardly slept at night I was never tired. I had new reserves of energy and felt exhilarated instead.

So this is what a good life is, I thought to myself for the first time.

This post is a part of the Blogchatter Half Marathon.

I am writing A Fictional Short story – A River Runs Through It – for this challenge.

Read Part 1 of the story here

Read Part 2 of the story here

Read Part 3 of the story here

Read Part 4 of the story here

Read Part 5 of the story here

Spread the love
Tweet

Post navigation

← Short Story- A River Runs Through It – Part 5
Short Story: A River Runs Through It – Part 7 →

7 thoughts on “Short Story: A River Runs Through It – Part 6”

  1. Swarnali Nath Swarnali Nath says:
    7 August 2021 at 10:28 AM

    Yet another gripping storytelling and a lovely story is being woven here.. Can’t wait to finish it soon.

    Reply
  2. Pingback: Short Story?: A River Runs Through It - Part 7 - Sirimiri
  3. Chinmayee Gayatree Sahu Chinmayee Gayatree Sahu says:
    8 August 2021 at 4:59 PM

    I was just wondering how Jagga would be restless at the banyan tree and just then like a theater experience, Seebo enters the frame! What a superb narration. I love the dialogues. Waiting for the next chapter now.

    Reply
  4. Pingback: Short Story: A River Runs Through It - Part 8 - Sirimiri
  5. Pingback: Short Story: A River Runs Through It - Part 9 - Sirimiri
  6. Sonia Dogra Sonia Dogra says:
    10 August 2021 at 10:37 PM

    I enjoyed the conversation between the two. The Panjabi!

    Reply
  7. Pingback: Short Story: A River Runs Through It - The End - Sirimiri

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

About Me

I live my life like a premium Netflix original. Sharp writing. Unexpected twists. Real character growth, and zero tolerance for boring side characters. And when life knocks me down, I get up, fix my hair, and upgrade my entire personality.
.
I’m Mayuri, a Mumbai-based Blogger, Writer, Author, Tarot Card Reader and professional noticer of human quirks.
.
This little corner?
Think of it as a table for Stories, Reviews, Tales of Travels, Feelings, Recipes, Laughter and the beautiful chaos of being human –  honest, unfiltered and served with a wink.
.
Come in curious. Leave lighter.
.
Slainte!

Hot off the press!

  • Oh, Baby!
  • The Secret Exams Women Conduct (That Men Don’t Even Know They’re Writing)
  • 28 Days, 28 Posts, One Changed Mind
  • Writing My Story : Day 28 of #WriteAPageADay
  • The Questions I’m Afraid to Answer : Day 27 of #WriteAPageADay

Newsletter

Archives

Categories

What I wrote…

  • April 2026
  • March 2026
  • February 2026
  • January 2026
  • December 2025
  • November 2025
  • October 2025
  • September 2025
  • August 2025
  • July 2025
  • June 2025
  • April 2025
  • March 2025
  • February 2025
  • January 2025
  • December 2024
  • November 2024
  • October 2024
  • March 2024
  • December 2023
  • November 2023
  • February 2023
  • November 2022
  • October 2022
  • September 2022
  • August 2022
  • July 2022
  • June 2022
  • April 2022
  • March 2022
  • February 2022
  • January 2022
  • December 2021
  • November 2021
  • October 2021
  • September 2021
  • August 2021
  • July 2021
  • June 2021
  • May 2021
  • March 2021
  • February 2021
  • January 2021
  • December 2020
  • November 2020
  • October 2020
  • September 2020
  • August 2020
  • July 2020
  • June 2020
  • May 2020
  • April 2020
  • March 2020
  • February 2020
  • January 2020
  • December 2019
  • November 2019
  • October 2019
  • September 2019
  • August 2019
  • July 2019
  • June 2019
  • May 2019
  • April 2019
  • March 2019
  • February 2019
  • January 2019
  • December 2018
  • November 2018
  • October 2018
  • September 2018
  • August 2018
  • July 2018
  • June 2018
  • May 2018
  • April 2018
  • March 2018
  • February 2018
  • January 2018
  • December 2017
  • November 2017
  • October 2017
  • September 2017
  • August 2017
  • July 2017
  • June 2017
  • May 2017
  • April 2017
  • March 2017
  • February 2017
  • January 2017
  • December 2016
  • November 2016
  • October 2016
  • September 2016
  • August 2016
  • July 2016
  • June 2016
  • March 2016
  • December 2015
  • October 2015
  • September 2015
  • August 2015
  • July 2015
  • June 2015
  • May 2015
  • April 2015
  • February 2015
  • November 2014
  • October 2014
  • September 2014
  • August 2014
  • July 2014
  • June 2014
  • May 2014
  • December 2013
  • November 2013
  • August 2013
  • July 2013
  • May 2013
  • March 2013
  • February 2013
  • January 2013
  • December 2012
  • November 2012
  • October 2012
  • September 2012
  • August 2012
  • June 2011
  • January 2011
  • July 2010
  • June 2010
  • May 2010
  • February 2010
  • January 2010
  • December 2009
  • November 2009
  • October 2009
  • September 2009
  • August 2009
  • July 2009
  • May 2009
  • April 2009
  • February 2009
  • January 2009
  • November 2008
  • October 2008
  • September 2008
  • August 2008
  • July 2008
  • June 2008
  • May 2008
  • April 2008
  • March 2008
  • February 2008
  • December 2007
  • November 2007
  • October 2007
  • September 2007
  • July 2007
  • June 2007
  • May 2007
  • April 2007
  • March 2007
  • February 2007
  • January 2007
  • December 2006
  • November 2006
  • September 2006
  • August 2006
  • July 2006
  • June 2006
  • April 2006
  • February 2006
  • January 2006
  • November 2005
  • September 2005
  • July 2005
  • June 2005
  • May 2005
  • April 2005
  • January 2005
  • May 2004
© 2026 Sirimiri | Powered by Minimalist Blog WordPress Theme
We use cookies to ensure that we give you the best experience on our website. If you continue to use this site we will assume that you are happy with it.