She was Prakreeti, nature; the purest of them all. Brought to this world to fill it with love and hope, her golden heart illuminating even the darkest of corners.
The daughter of a rickshaw puller, her morning started with plucking flowers and making garlands for sale to rich women. Smelling like the jasmines and roses that filled her courtyard, she would smile at everyone passing her on the road, making their morning beautiful. She would go door to door, her basket filled with sweet-smelling ornaments as the women of Vishnupur waited for her. Her basket would be empty in no time and then she would run home to make lunch for her father.

A motherless child, she was brought up by her nani with more love than even her mother could have given her. But nani had grown old because of which her granddaughter was unable to go to school.
Every morning, she would climb the neighbour’s wall and wave at the school buses passing by her area. She pitied them, feeling lucky, for leaving her home and nani every day was too big a punishment for her.
She knew how to count her money and she even knew the alphabets; it was more than enough for her. And so she waved and smiled with her whole heart as the sleepy kids watched the thirteen-year-old girl, and waved back, feeling a little more cheerful for their day ahead.
That was the spark of her angelic smile. It energised everyone who saw it. They couldn’t help but smile. Nani always put black kohl on her forehead to mark her against ‘buri nazar’.  All her knowledge about the world came from the sweetest old woman whose life was limited to the cot.

“What happened to them, nani?”
Prakreeti saw them every night.  They came from the part of city she’d never been before. They came on an old rusty jeep, yelling, singing, and laughing. Their action puzzled her a lot.
Nani said it was liquor. When taken, it could make one forget his sorrow. Some found happiness in it and some turned into evil. Nani told her liquor was very bad.
“Never drink it, my child.”
“I won’t.”
And she wouldn’t. But she wondered about it. A drink to forget one’s misery, a drink to bring joy. Magical indeed. What if she drank it, what will she forget, her sadness? But what made her sad? Being poor? No, she had her flowers, most priceless jewels in the world. Then what, being motherless? But she had most amazing nani in the world.

No, she had nothing to sad about. She need not drink liquor. But those men did, every day.  How sad their life must be. They had to forget their misery every day, poor people!

Right at that time she heard the horn of the jeep. She ran at the door, her pure heart filled with compassion at their pain, her eyes with empathy.

They looked at a girl out of her house in dark of night. Maybe their pain was too much and they needed it to share. That must be the reason for their actions.

They pulled her in the jeep, in the middle seat. They didn’t see a kind soul feeling for them as they stuffed her mouth to prevent her screams.  They didn’t see her angelic face confused at what was happening to her. They didn’t see a thirteen-year-old child before ripping her clothes and beating her. They didn’t see her innocent eyes brimming with tears of helplessness before doing the unspeakable. They didn’t notice her melodious voice, screaming in pain; it was unheard in their laughter.
Satisfied, they threw her in canal outside the city, got on their jeep and went back to their holes.

Next morning, the women of Vishnupur waited for their favourite girl and her beautiful flowers. Children in the school buses craned their head to see their friend waving at them.
She wasn’t there. She was long gone. Her body floated away from her world. Her home, her flowers, her nani, her father.
She was Prakreeti; nature in human form, trying to take away pain from this world, corrupted by those who lived in it.

* Nani – maternal grandmother
* Buri nazar – ill omen