( Trying something different for a change - a piece of simple fiction)
Part one
Vedika was an orphan, barely twenty, but as ambitious as a hawk. Not a plain Jane, but not beautiful either. However, if you passed her on the street, you would probably give her a second look, because there was an earthly charm about her and oodles of personality. Although money was far from aplenty, she had the confidence of a honey badger and hence stood out in the crowd.
And when she sang informally, as she often did at parties, get-togethers, and whenever the opportunity presented itself, her voice danced like a gentle breeze, weaving tales of love and longing with every note.
Intelligent, with a fierce determination to succeed, she was a go-getter, who had decided as a young teen, that she would not endure the poverty and suffering she had seen her parents go through before they both tragically passed away- a month apart, from Covid.
She topped the final board exam in the government school in her town and was ready to take on the world. Her name in the newspapers did not come as a surprise, as she was known to be someone who navigated complexities effortlessly, her intellect illuminating paths others scarcely perceived.
College in the US had been on her mind, and she was intent on pursuing a degree in science and finally studying medicine – the exorbitant fees did not deter her. She filled in innumerable application forms, knocked on countless doors, applied for a multitude of scholarships, appealed on social media, and waited.
She kept saying to herself that things would somehow work out as they always had in the past. Then out of the blue, she received an unexpected call late one evening.
He called himself an Indian philanthropist from Delhi and said that her story had moved him. Then, after a brief conversation, which was just myriad questions strung together, he offered to sponsor her. She convinced herself that the few innuendos at the close were just her overactive imagination.
The first tranche of money was in her account a week later and she busied herself shopping for necessities and packing. Simultaneously a myriad of thoughts was plaguing her mind.
Would she like it there?
Would she make it there?
Isn’t four years a long time?
And then would she continue till it was eight?
Would the money suffice?
Would she manage to secure part-time employment?
Would she have the coveted Dr title before her name?
How often would she manage to come back to see her old and crippled grandmother – the only relative she had left in the world- only time would tell?
And at the back of her mind – What type of man was her benefactor? In reality, she knew nothing about him.
Part two
The flight was scary and exciting all at once, and she took umpteen selfies on her old mobile phone with its partially cracked screen- a hand-me-down from a school pal.
And then all at once she was in college – selecting courses, settling into the dormitory, making friends, sightseeing on weekends, attending classes, and visiting the library where she spent hours pouring over manuscripts, journals, and computers.
The first eight semesters flew by in the blink of an eye, and the studies began to get more serious. She was often exhausted at the end of the day, but she was a dynamite in a small package and slacking was for the weak.
Two years were over – she was doing fantastically well, and she missed home but there was very little time to pine.
Assignments began to pour in, and she busied herself in the laboratories, till late at night, conducting experiments along with classmates, investigating, researching, and meticulously following established protocols, while recording data with precision. This was all new and oh-so-exciting.
Collaborating with eager and highly intelligent fellow students from various corners of the globe, she analyzed results and identified trends. She also contributed to literature reviews, synthesizing current research to contextualize findings. Additionally, she presented progress papers at meetings, fostering constructive discussions and receiving feedback for further refinement.
With relentless dedication and an insatiable thirst for knowledge, she was ascending to the summit of academic achievement, consistently outshining her peers. Her single-minded & meticulous approach to learning, coupled with a passion for excellence, propelled her to the forefront of her classes, earning admiration and respect from professors and classmates alike. Her bubbly nature endeared her to all and becoming the ‘class representative’ was an added and welcome bonus.
So, this was what university was all about.
She would usually return to her room close to midnight, then rustle up a quick meal, devour the same, and crash into her bed. The intensity was, at times, a trifle overbearing and she would tear up, but a sound sleep would drive away all such emotions, and come morning, she would be raring to go once again.
She received one or two letters from her sponsor, but they were cold and impersonal. He acknowledged that she was doing well and no more. He asked her to send him photos of herself and her university and she obliged willingly, almost every month. He confirmed that the money for her fees would continue to come in tranches as agreed with the university.
Part three
Year three began on a sad note. A brief call from a neighbour in India reduced her to tears- her grandmother was no more. Wrapped in sorrow's embrace, she mourned her grandmother's passing, her heart heavy with loss. Memories flooded her mind, each cherished moment a bittersweet reminder of a love now gone. The only solace was in the echo of her grandmother's wisdom. Suddenly, she felt alone and extremely vulnerable.
And then an email from her sponsor, which for some unknown reason caused her to shudder. He was arriving at the end of the month and said he was looking forward to meeting her- and there was more ……..
She read the letter repeatedly - each word seemed to hold weight, causing her heart to race with apprehension. With each line, a sense of unease crept over her, causing her to breathe heavily.
‘Not able to concentrate on anything during the next few days’ was putting it mildly. Suddenly she was a bag of nerves. Anxiety clawed at her chest, its grip tightening with each passing moment, and sparking unease in every corner of her mind. There was no one to talk to and friends wouldn’t understand how defenseless and unprotected she felt.
……………………………she walked out of the hotel apartment after meeting him, feeling used, shattered, and hollow- the world suddenly felt cold & unfamiliar.
Trust shattered; scars unseen, etched into her soul forever. She wore a cloak of shame she didn't choose, and it was heavy – sadly, far too heavy for her fragile shoulders. She didn’t mention a word to anyone.
She didn’t make the journey from victim to survivor that we often read about.
She couldn't bear the shame.
They forced her door open when she didn’t respond the following morning and she lay motionless. It was over.
The college held a touching memorial a few days later. Her friends and a few professors were there in large numbers as she was popular and well-loved.
“Gone but not forgotten, a life stolen by vicious, cruel hands.
In your absence, our hearts ache with the pain of loss.
Rest peacefully, dear Vedika, your spirit forever cherished in our memories."
Unfortunately, not everyone gets saved. Not everyone survives the darkness.
