I am trying to think of someone about whom I am able to write — she is graceful. No one comes to mind, except for the portrait of a woman which hung in my room during my growing up years.

I had asked father, and got a mumbled reply in response.

The lady had timeless grace. Her flawless complexion, sleek hair in a chignon, the graceful arc of her neck, her white sari, gave her a beauty beyond words. I wish I had prodded father more about her, but as an eight year old,  I wasn’t an inquisitive person. 

The picture bugged my step mother to no end. She believed it was my mother. I didn’t correct her assumption, and strangely my father kept quiet about it too. In realty my mother’s picture hung in our ancestral village in Charsadda. Step mom never went there, so she didn’t come to know who was who.




Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.

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