Skip to main content

The Compromise (Part 2)

Jan 1st, 2007
-11:00am
-Savannah, GA

Rumble- rumble …..Sshhh… Again, rumble - rumble.

Shyla’s heart skipped two beats! Was that her baby moving? This was the first time that the baby had moved. Shyla felt her tummy with her hands. Her face was still; her hands glued to the small belly. Something powerful went between her fingers. The movement of life, felt intensely alien at first; but the second shudder turned her fears into an awakening understood only by those who have experienced it. A little bump appeared at one end and then tumbled across to the other side of her belly. “Ma!” cried Shyla. Her mother came running into the room from the kitchen where she had been preparing lunch.
“Ma, it’s the baby moving”.
The two women sat close to each other, their faces flushing with excitement. For half an hour they followed every little movement, with eager eyes, un-relinquished enthusiasm and squeals of laughter.
******
Four months ago, Liz had welcomed her daughter home. She came with a suitcase full of CDs and cheap clothes. She was pale, alone and completely nauseated when she had arrived. But, she still had the little live fetus inside her. Liz had spent sleepless nights worrying for her pregnant daughter and how she was going to raise a child alone. And then she said to herself, “Just like I have, she will too”.
Shyla felt her life was going to change for ever. The baby was here to stay. And she was going to be the mother, forever. She felt tremendous regret that Eric did not want it. He hadn’t called since the last time they had the argument, outside the abortion clinic. Shyla wanted to keep the baby. Eric left her there, and had driven back alone. Before leaving he had given her a thousand dollars.

June 21st, 2007
-4:00pm
-Near Savannah, GA

Eric opened the window to let the cigarette smoke out. He couldn’t keep the window open for more than a few minutes since the sun was still pretty harsh. He had been driving for almost four hours now. While driving past Macon, he had stopped by a gift shop and bought a porcelain lamp for Shyla, one he thought she might like. Eric wondered if he should have bought anything for their baby. But he did not even know its sex; only that it was born 3 weeks ago. When Liz had picked up the phone last night, he had simply said, “Can I see Shyla tomorrow?”

For nine months Eric thought he had prepared himself for this. He was wrong. It had actually taken him his entire life to get ready for this moment.
He felt vaguely released off a great burden. The burden of trying to save his life. The pressure of preparing to survive. It was replaced by the joy of simply living; and with it the loving came back. The agonizing defeat that he experienced everyday from hating himself, drifted away silently without his even realizing it.

(Last part this thursday..)

Comments

Vivek Sharma said…
Will read it properly later, but had to drop this suggestion:)

Change the earlier part everytime you write what follows... change it so that the whole series is the best possible outcome of an effort spread over time (my own fault was I tried to leave my mistakes, and then soap becomes a soup, a soup of the unappetizing kinds)
GS said…
Went through it a few times and here are some areas you can work on:

1. Grammar - certain passages lack structure and a few sentences can be reworked.
2. Choice of words - "the tummy" to "her tummy" with more detail added - "She tentatively placed her palms on her distended belly where a new life was actively exploring the confines of her womb"

Something to add more drama and to create the "video" in the reader's mind. I've always noticed that good writers are capable of creating an image of the scene...only the best can create a full motion picture in your head :)

The story also seems to be headed in a different trajectory from what I had originally anticipated...suddenly the potential for reconciliation has increased :) I may be wrong - but I'll wait for the final part...

Keep em coming!!! :)
Vivek Sharma said…
I guess I gave you the right suggestion before reading your piece...

Please add details, follow some of the precise and insightful suggestions of GS and if you need to, change length and size of first and second part:)

You thought writing a piece was cakewalk. And now you find out, you need to grow the wheat and make the flour too. Its hard work:)

Enjoy the process... and looking forward to next part... but also looking forward to parts gone by REVISED
Proma said…
GS, Vivek : Thanks for the tips guys, will certainly work on it. Vivek I never thought writing was cakewalk, never ever.

GS: Wait for the finale ;)

looking forward to more suggestions/comments
Anonymous said…
Oi, achei teu blog pelo google tá bem interessante gostei desse post. Quando der dá uma passada pelo meu blog, é sobre camisetas personalizadas, mostra passo a passo como criar uma camiseta personalizada bem maneira. Até mais.

Popular posts from this blog

Faraway

Like a rose without water I will age deep vermillion and scentless. Your love I will keep like white envelopes from the past unopened under my sandal-scented bed. It is not memories that the mention of your name reminds. But a whole universe that I sometimes see when I sit and watch snow melt outside my window. Two drops of jasmine oil and two words later I remind myself this is only a poem and you distant, like a faraway place I want to visit. And say goodbye once again.

First Love makes you a worse person. (So go look for the second one to fix that!)

It has been twenty years since you left. Twenty years that I have not seen you. Honest to God, I don’t completely remember your face now. Only that smile, those hazel eyes, and your green striped shirt that later, someone stole from your clothesline on a summer afternoon. That summer remember, we stole mangoes from whichever garden we could, and attempted to cook chutney. And the aftermath – burnt coils of the electric heater and a blackened saucepan. I wonder why even after all these years, a gentle sprinkle of your memories, unleashes a strong flow of emotions that occupy those corners of my mind that normally don’t exist in my everyday life. I don’t like it. I don’t like that you come so close to me but only in a dream. I can neither touch you nor make you go away. You tease me like a freshly popped champagne bottle spilling out froth. That froth that burns my fingertips, but never wets them enough. And slowly, precipitates away into nothing. You are not “nothing” in my life. Y...

The Compromise (Final Part)

June 21st 2007 5:40pm Savannah, GA Shyla’s little ranch home was tucked away behind the row of weeping willows. More dreary looking houses and an abandoned truck rusting by the street, made the scenery look even sadder. It was hard to imagine that inside one of those old withdrawn houses, a newborn was trying to see the world with twinkle eyes in all amazement. Eric had parked on the street and was now walking towards the little ranch home. He had not noticed the adjoining houses, nor that the driveway ended into a worm-infested narrow mud pathway leading towards the house. He could see nothing, as his insides couldn ’t bear another iota of sensory impulse. Or perhaps, he, standing at this moment, still and alone, on grounds completely alien, was shielded from everything outside of his own chosen senses. He felt strangely calm, as if he had just come walking out alive from the dead. As he stood in front of the large wooden door now, loud heartbeats thumped against his ringing hea...