Slaves of power

Fathima applied a lotion over her burns and then put on a long sleeved blouse over them. She turned and looked at the mirror. Not one black mark was seen. She then tied the matching green -red and white sari and watched the effect. It was perfect. Made her feel like the stalk of a beautiful flower. She combed her hair high and pinned it and then started for the interview.                                                                                          

 She had passed the main auditor's exam and now only had to pass a supplementary interview. Nobody from her tribe had passed this exam so far. Nor had expected her to pass it. It was like jumping from one rock to another in a flowing river - like she used to do when she was a child. She who  once had a fracture in her leg thrilled at every obstacle she overcame.

The other aspirants were pouring over books. Over preliminary questions she was already familiar with. When her turn came she walked in majestically. The interviewer was young, tall and smart in a white shirt. She answered her subject answers correctly. Even personal questions (perhaps for attitude, she guessed). After all she had the right attitude.

She was hungry when she came out. And tired. The sun teased her for her long sleeves. And then she remembered. The interviewer had mistaken her for a muslim because of the long sleeves. They were out of fashion now. No wonder he kept asking weird questions. Her name too must have added to the confusion (he had repeated it pensively). If only she had followed his line of thinking then, she would have cleared his doubts. Not that he could be prejudiced against muslims or show it here, but that was life.

At home father seemed tense and off his jovial self. A senior official who had come  to his office for inspection had written a not so good report about him because father's boss did not give him the expected 'pocket expenses' and the official who couldn't get a bite at the shark was satisfied to bite smaller fish just to show his power.
 Father had a good reputation at his department and in the village. Everyone knew that he'd leave home sharp at 8 every morning and how his bosses trusted him to finish to perfection any work that they had started and could not complete.
"Don't worry dad," Fathima tried to comfort him."Everyone knows about you and your work. This man is only making a fool of himself by giving you a bad report. People would have respected him if he had given this report about Subu, the fraud."
" I flinch thinking mainly of Subu," father said. "He was all teeth after the incident."
The phone rang and Fathima went to pick it. It was Karthick, her brother Justin's best friend.

"Hello Fathima, Justin has just had an accident. I'm with him at V.R.K hospital. Fractured his hand and had some scratches. Rammed his bike into a tree. I told him I'd drop him. He didn't listen. Priya jilted him suddenly in the evening. Said her father just got a promotion and has become an officer. They'll be shifting to the Officer's quarters.
"What will people say if they see me coming to your house,Justin?" she says coolly.
"She said that?" Fathima's eyes blinked as she took in the new shock.


At the hospital Justin was half dazed. Opened his eyes, said something and closed it again. Then again he opened his eyes as if he suddenly remembered something and father, son and daughter put their hands together in a thumbs up sign, a renewal of their previous decision to unitedly face and win life's challenges.

                                                                                                                                                                                                 

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