Wish

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 12; the twelfth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Purva was aware that people thought she was not too bright, but that was not something that she could help.  She had been this way since the time she had fever as a child.  But she was beautiful, and the only child of a very rich and powerful man.  Her father was aware of this lack of intelligence in her, and did everything to protect her, even after he had gone.  One day when she was barely seventeen years old, he had introduced her to a young and ambitious young man, her husband.  One look at his handsome face, she had been smitten.  They got married soon.  He was a go-getter, charming and dynamic.  She vaguely realized that her father had taken him up as a son and was training him to take care of  his entire business after he was gone.  She was lucky, all her wishes were granted. All that she ever wanted was dolls to dress up.  But a husband was fine too.

Yes, she had a girl’s brain, ever since that childhood fever, and she never outgrew her love for dolls.  Time flew, her children grew up, intelligent, smart and brought up by governesses, sent to hostels.  The babies grew up into sharp, capable strangers.  She grew lonely.  It was nothing that she could pin-point.  Her husband was unfailingly courteous, if she spoke, he listened politely.  He was always patient with her, but even her dim brain realized that there was something missing.  She wished she knew what it was that she was missing.

Her father had been a very rich man, but her husband made the business really flourish.  They were billionaires now.  She was so proud of her husband, and thanked her Krishna doll a million times for sending him into her life.  She wished her father was alive to enjoy her husband’s success.

Then rumors started.  It seemed her husband had a girlfriend.  A lady friend pointed out the woman to her.  She was tall, slim and smart and had the most beautiful hair.  Purva’s father was dead, there was no-one she could run to for solace.  She sobbed her heart out in her dolls room.  Soon she got used to the idea.  But she wished she was smart and intelligent.

Her doll collection kept growing through the years.  Her sons brought her dolls, so did her husband, from various parts of the world.  She would sit and talk to the dolls for hours. She had doll figures of all of them, her sons, her daughters, her father and her husband.  Yes even her ~ the girl friend.

One day, she saw him with his girlfriend.  She was attending a kitty party in a 5 star hotel and she spotted them.  They were both sitting and entertaining an important foreign client.  His girlfriend said something and he threw his head up and laughed delightedly.  She left the kitty party abruptly.  He had never laughed like that with her.  She wished he would at least smile lovingly at her.

In her doll room, she picked up the girlfriend’s doll figure and threw it against the wall, beat it up and then fell to her knees and wept bitterly.  After a while, she got up, picked up the doll and placed it on a shelf.

That evening when she walked to the dinner table, the family was gathered, laughing and cracking jokes, most of which she did not understand.  He smiled gently at her and said “Purva, our company made an amazing business deal with that important international client.  He knows you love dolls, so he has sent you a beautiful doll from Iceland.”

She smiled and accepted the packed doll.  Then she kept sitting and staring at her plate blankly.

She wished she was dead.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.