They bundled me up, separated me from all my other friends and tied up a knot on me. I was suffocated. Hadn’t they ever heard of claustrophobia? I wanted to breathe, to smell the ‘exotic Indian air’, to cherish the gone moments, to smile through the troubles but they wouldn’t just leave me alone. The weather seemed to be pleasant, I could sway with it, could feel the wind on my face, but only if they would untie me.
One of them held me by my hands, the other grabbed my wavering legs, and my stomach ached with the knot getting tighter and tighter. Couldn’t they apprehend that I was losing my shape? What would become of me? I would lose my colour and my shape. I wouldn’t want to lose myself but they just don’t understand me. When will they?
They are just relishing their game of tug of war. How can they get pleasure out of this, by disquieting me? How? I just don’t want to be torn into two smithereens, misplacing my individuality.
Moushmi Radhanpara 
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