Wars

Once upon a time, there was a couple. They lived a peaceful life in a little apartment in a big city. They had a girl. 3 year old. They didn’t have anyone else. 

They were not used to having people and things in their life. So their house was practically empty. They only had those things that made them happy. So was their hearts. They did not have many people in it. And so they lived their happy lives. 

Then one day, the happiness vanished. 

The 3 year old began to disobey them. She wanted things the parents did not want. She invited people they did not want in their lives. They felt that the girl suddenly became a stranger. They developed a distance in their hearts. The girl went further away day after day, while the couple stayed close. 

The girl one day felt that she did not have anything in common with them. She decided to move out and away. And she did that. 

The first day, the parents did not feel anything. In fact, they thought they felt happy when they reclaimed the calm and inner peace. They no more had the extra things, extra demands and extra people. 

Days passed. The couple spoke less to each other. In their individual hearts, they began to feel a void they could not fill with each other’s presence. Somehow, they felt responsible for this situation. However, in the rush to justify themselves to claim their peace, they tried to make themselves believe that it is the other who is responsible. 

Months passed. One day, the girl came to visit them. Not out of love, but to get some of her remaining things. The moment they saw the girl at the door, the couple felt a rush of strange chemicals in their veins. They froze. Their hearts bled. Their inner eyes shed tears like a fountain. But their physical bodies remained frozen till she left. 

Inside, each knew what was going on. Each withdrew into their shells. 

Years passed. The girl attended the funeral of both the parents the same month. When she was at home one last time to clear and lock it, she realised that her parents were still there inside her. They were still fighting a war over her. They were still not talking to each other. They were still feeling guilty. They were still justifying themselves. They were still blaming each other. 

The only difference was that now, both were her. The last day of the month, her obituary appeared in the same newspapers, in the same obscure corner. The war was over. Probably. ¯