FADED COLOURS, FRESH MEMORIES

RED SHOES

I still remember the happiest days of my life when Rivka all of five years was delighted beyond measure to take me home as her birthday gift. A pair of red leather shoes which she always wanted. She held me tenderly, close to her lil heart which spoke volumes.

Rivka wore me to the park, playgrounds and picnics.

****

Out of nowhere came that ill fated day, when I could hear horrendous screams and crowds of panic-stricken people were crammed into a truck. Rivka was howling and clinging to her mother. We arrived at a hellish place where I was brutally ripped off Rivka’s feet and thrown onto a pile of other shoes.

Rivka and the others were shoved into a windowless room and locked in. The chimneys of surrounding buildings belched out putrid smoke. I never saw her again.

****

Years later, staring at the pristine room and men working in a calm manner made me relax in the cool confines after being scrubbed clean and polished by gentle hands.

The horrors I'd witnessed were unimaginable and heartbreaking.

Today, since seven decades I sit in a Holocaust Memorial Museum replaying the nightmarish episodes in my mind.

“Rivka….”

(Word count: 196 excluding the title)

©️ Sangeetha Kamath

Pic Courtesy:Image by Catkin from Pixabay

IN BLACK AND WHITE

It's a hot, blazing afternoon once again but things are not quite the same anymore. Years ago, I used to wish for peace and quiet from the bawling, squabbles and playful shrieks which shattered my eardrums.

Mornings began with me looking back at the cherubic faces who stared at me…or rather at the patterns the chalk sticks made on me. The teacher would stand elegantly beside me and go ‘scritch-scratch’ with numbers, alphabets and drawings.

During recess, the tots would, in all enthusiasm draw doodles on me and hurriedly wipe me clean.

Afternoons were a welcome break, when during their nap time, I too had some respite. I loved watching them nod off, their mop of bob hair spread on their arms or desks.

I too drifted off…

A sudden, horrendous explosion rocked the buildings and chunks of concrete came cascading down from the ceiling. Shrieks and screams rent the air.

Airplanes mercilessly dropped vile missiles which zipped hazhardly into buildings and crumbled them.

“Children…children…” the teacher was numb with shock as she stammered the last words from her quivering lips when the entire building came crashing down on us…

****

The silence is now deafening in this abandoned town.

(Word count: 198 excluding the title)

Pic Courtesy Image by Daniel Waleczek from Pixabay

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A HAYWIRE SCRIPT

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Sangeetha Kamath

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