The girl stared at her black locks, tucked hastily behind her ears. She hadn’t combed them for days. A pair of ghungroos lay beside her, limp and lifeless, waiting to dance again. Sudha shifted her gaze to her leg, the traces of blood and a festering wound making her want to scream. She didn’t deserve this.
A week ago—
As Sudha entered the bus, she adjusted the pile of garlands woven across her neck. She leaned back against her seat and dreamt about the upcoming dance competition. She had danced her heart out. The crowd had lifted her up in joy; she was flying through the air. Somebody screamed, and she opened her eyes to see horror unfolding. The bus screeched, then crashed into a large double-decker truck as she lost consciousness.
Sudha woke to see her tattered face reflected in the mirror of her parents’ home. She had been bundled up and brought there, along with her heap of shattered dreams. Was this the last page of her life? She stared at the blue sky through her window, gazing at the bright sun beckoning above. Her eyes fell on the prosthetic leg delivered by the doctors. A slow smile crossed her lips as she tied the discarded ghungroos around the cold prosthetic limb. Taking a bright red sketch pen, she scrawled in bold letters on the first page of her diary: “THE FIRST PAGE.”
DoubleSpeak 