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File 145989799623- (473.09KB , 2171x1472 , mat_03) The darkness in Preetha’s heart was reflected, as it were, across the sky as dark clouds had covered it from horizon to horizon.Slivers of lightning were streaking through the inky blackness that blotted out the blazing sun of the afternoon.It is happening to her often these days -- a side effect of having too many valiums for sleep.She can’t sleep at night, and throughout the day, a spell of gloom and drowsiness hangs heavy over her like a shroud.She could smell herself, the scent of her womanhood, the scent of her robbed motherhood, the scent of pent up milk in her breasts, now spilling out.She had been effusing for quite some time; she didn’t even realize.If the maid doesn’t come, she orders lunch or dinner from the nearby restaurants who deliver at home.



The wind was like an invisible naughty lover trying to violate her modesty.This is the reason Preetha doesn’t wear western clothes like T-Shirts, tops or salwar-kameez these days.These spontaneous effusions have become an issue of embarrassment for her.The owner of the tea stall across the road was struggling with the shutter of his shop to close it against the violent gusts.

People were running helter-skelter to find cover from the impending storm and torrential rains.

This pain was a constant reminder of what she had been robbed off, what those monsters had done to her.