That's what she could never say

“Sujata to Ground Station: exiting ISSS for spacewalk 13 on sub-mission 2-b in 57 seconds.” Captain Sujata Rao sent a voice-message to ISRO ground station from the International Super Space Station orbiting Mars as she was about to go out on a short mission to fix a couple of mechanical issues. She’d get a response in another 25 minutes.

Sujata thought that the sun was a bit unusually brighter. She shrugged and proceeded toward the bolt she needed to tighten by 10 degrees more. She didn’t find a need to activate her jetpack as the micro-thrusters in her space-suit were adequately powerful.

As she approached the bolt, a static started playing in receiver. ‘So jarring!’ she thought, irritated. The specially designed automatic spanner registered a significant temperature rise in the bolt. Her jaw dropped when she saw the sun had grown 10 times its size. Before she knew it, the static had gone from unbearable to ‘extreme torture’, impairing her hearing forever.

A superbright flash… an explosion… a hundred thousand suns bursting into life…

Nothing… no Captain Sujata… just individual atoms floating in space…


Dr. Sujata Rao was stressed. Yes, even the world’s best neurosurgeon can get stressed. Especially when you are operating on the Prime Minister of your country.

She ran the final checks. All equipments: okay. Emergency backup system 1: fully functional. Backup system 2: ready. Mr. PM was anesthetized. As she switched the drill on, Sujata became acutely aware of the enormous weight of responsibility on her shoulders. The fate of the man who made India into a superpower lay in her hands. Literally.

Click!

Blink!

‘Huh!’ thought she after her momentary blackout. The drill was boring into the PM’s neck. She could see all her assistants panicking. Some struck paralyzed with the shock, some screaming at the top of their voice. Why could she not hear anything? She screamed. She screamed so she could wake up from the nightmare. She screamed because that was the only thing remained to be done. She couldn’t hear herself scream.

One after another, her assistants seemed to vanish in a puff of dark mist. The blood all over the operation table — seemed to turn golden before it vanished along with the table. Sujata tried to clasp her hands around her head, but found no hands to do so. What was happening? The universe seemed to be being whisked away… piece by piece… herself included. No Dr. Sujata… no Mr. Prime Minister… just mist… dark… swirling… endless.



It was a blissful spring evening. Sujata was lying on the lush green grass. Clutching a letter in her hand. She was confused which spring was more beautiful, the one on the outside or the one in her mind. After all, she had just received a letter from Rajesh. ‘Why did that stupid guy have to go away for such a long time?’ she thought to herself in mock-anger.

She opened the letter. The wind blowing intricate patterns on the grass, gently. Her heart beating, not as gently.

“Suju, I can not even begin to describe how much miss you…” the letter began. Each word turning more and more blurry, Sujata read on. She thought of Rajesh and of the extraordinary warmth that flooded her at his thought.

Was she hallucinating? Why was there a hole in the middle of the letter? Burning… spreading slowly… devouring the letter… She thought of Rajesh again. She couldn’t remember how he looked. She tried harder… couldn’t remember his voice. Harder… Who Rajesh?

A sense of profound loss engulfed her. Love had evaporated. She didn’t know why she was sad… she didn’t know what sad meant… as if feelings were something alien… why was there water everywhere? The green grass… gone. The blue skies… grey and gloomy. Sujata and her feelings… what feelings? Who Sujata? Just water. Everywhere. Salty. Lifeless. Still.



So many branches of the timeline… each more beautiful and intricate than other… colorful… winding, twisting and turning…

But one after another, those branches were vanishing into nothingness. The probability distribution was collapsing. Rapidly.

It was the J.J. Hostptal. Years ago. Sujata (you know what Sujata means? The one who’s born of goodness. The one who’s born to good[hearted people]) was floating… blissful… unaware… innocent. 

Dhak dhak… dhak dhak… her heart beat. Slowing down with each beat. With each beat, a star extinguished. With each passing moment, one tendrill was cut off the exquisite timeline that lay ahead.

In the end, there weren’t any stars remaining to bring hope. Only one possible direction for the timeline remained: the one which went nowhere.

She was being taken out of the womb, piece by piece… dead like meat and bloody like wine.

Because her grand mother deemed it extremely important for the baby to have the ‘right’ set of genitals. The probability distribution had collapsed to a single point: at zero.

Sujata wasn’t born.

P.S: While you are at it, give this a viewing: http://www.satyamevjayate.in/female-foeticide/femalefoeticide.aspx

2 comments :

  1. Amazing! Apart from the poorly unorganized whitespace, that could have been better interspersed to fulfil the intended purpose, and the utterly goofy name that 'Rajesh' is, I loved everything. :D

    Want to see more of such!

    Reminded me of Steins;Gate (no semicolon is out of place). You _must_ watch that anime. It will blow your effing mind out of the space-time continuum.

    Reply Delete
    1. Thanks! :D
      I love you or what! :-o

      Whitespace for intended purpose? You meant _indented_ purpose? ;)

      Yes, same feeling here about 'Rajesh'! :P
      But I was in rapid-write mode re. Had just an hour before I went to office. (Believe it or not, I wrote this thing in under an hour and published it off with editing limited only to grammar and spellings) Now, I didn't want get stuck on thinking of a name, right! ;)

      About Steins;Gate. Watching. Right. Now.

      Delete

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