Story:
The Torn Saree
I’m not going to look back. Not now, not ever. I can feel the night closing around me like the wings of a bat. I
open my window only to be met by a light breeze. Looking back one last time, I couldn’t help myself, my bed
neatly made with the note placed carefully on. I have to do this. Desperate to leave, my feet climb down onto
the backyard. Before I know it, I’m running as fast as I can, far away from here. The crunching of my feet
hitting sandy pavement pierces the eerie silence. Out of breath, I slow down. A sign near me, spurs me on.
Janwaal railway station, it reads in Urdu, still too close. I bought a ticket to somewhere far away, Islamabad,
they won’t find me here. I check the time. There’s still four hours, so I rest my eyes, slowly drifting into a
peaceful sleep.
I wake up to the sound of wheels screeching against the tracks. I grab my bag and take a seat in the train. The
vehicle starts moving and as I glance out the window, a golden ray in the distance. I watch as it grows into a
big ball of fire melting from an orange to a yellow. The bottom of my saree is torn, and my shoes smell foul. I
don’t change, I just leave them like that. It’s the last thing I have of the life I left behind and I’m not quite
ready to move on.
***
Something felt not right, almost like there was something I didn’t know. Out of the window I could see the
dark haze welcoming the broiling sun. I gasped in disbelief as my eyes lay on the breathtaking saree. I
admired the beautiful midnight blue colour and the gold jewels embedded into the silk. My mother walked
into my room. “I knew you would like it, now go put it on. You’re going to need to look your best today.” She
was gone before I could ask why. As I was getting dressed, I heard the chime of the doorbells followed by
some friendly chatter. I looked in the mirror, my eyes widening at the beautiful sparkles. I headed downstairs.
There was a man around the age of twenty-five sitting there, staring at me. “Hi Naila” he greeted. His hands
were fidgeting with the hem of his kurta, his eyes were wandering. “We should get to know each other.”
“Ummm, yeah, I guess” He kept asking me questions, like he was trying to study me.
“Are you willing to move overseas after marriage?”
“What? I haven’t really thought about that.”
“You haven’t?” My eyes narrowed. The confusion must’ve been clear on my face because he continued
“Didn’t your mother tell you, they want us to get marr-.”
***
The train jerked, reminding me of my surroundings. A blurry image of an old man forms and out of courtesy I
immediately move my bag, giving the man space to sit.
“Oh, thank you, you’re very nice, people have lost this courtesy.”
“It’s no problem.” I smiled. I looked at his wrinkled face. Although he’s a lot older, the sparkle of his eyes
reminded me of my dad. The way he would brighten the world with a smile. He’s looking down at me, he
understands why I’m running away, I know he does. The man left me to my own thoughts, thought about
whether I was doing the right thing, about how my mum would react, about what my future would be. I wish
my mum would understand. I wish she would see things from my point of view.
***
“Ammi what is this nonsense about getting me married? I’m too young!” my knuckles were clenched and
ready to rip off someone’s head.
“You’re not too young. You turn fifteen next month.”
“What about my education, Abba always said I was going to do something great. He wanted more for me.
That can’t happen if I get married!”
“You don’t have a choice. Don’t you understand it’s already so hard financially without your dad, it would
help if you co-operated!”
“If dad was here today, he never would have forced me.” With that I stormed off, slamming the door behind
me.
***
That was the first time I had really realised that Abba was gone, forever. All his hopes and dreams smashed in
an accident. He was the only one that believed in me. Believed that I could become whatever I wanted.
Behind the layer of my thoughts I could hear the captain’s voice “We will reach Islamabad in 10 minutes. It’s
the final stop, everyone has to get off”. I take a deep breath and change my clothes in the cramped cubicle of
the train toilets. As the train approaches to a halt. I grab my bag, with the soft green fabric folded inside and
step out. My orange salwar blends in with the rest.
Reflection:
My short story intends to explore the concept of curiosity through the human nature of desire. The stimulus
conveys the ideas of desire through “we always wanted more than this” which expresses curiosity within
one. The techniques I have used have been influenced by ‘ Flowers’ and ‘The Road Not Taken’ which explain
tone and further achieve my aim.
By using sensory imagery and foreshadowing, I have been aiming to further develop these ideas of curiosity
and human desire. In the beginning of my story, sensory imagery was used, “I can feel the night closing
around me like the wings of a bat.” Through this description I was striving to raise curiosity about the
protagonist. This was inspired by ‘The Flowers’ which used sensory imagery, “The air held a keenness that
made her nose twitch”, to demonstrate the peculiarity in the atmosphere. Although they used tactile
imagery to convey their ideas, I used visual imagery to better illustrate the eerie tone. Foreshadowing was
another technique I used. “Something felt not right, almost like there was something I didn’t know.” was
mentioned at the start of my flashback and predicted the added complication in her life. This was again
inspired by ‘The Flowers’ since the change of mood foresaw the result of the loss of innocence. Even though
the same techniques were used, they conveyed it through differences in the atmosphere, while mine stated
it directly in order to communicate my intentions clearly.
My short story also used an extended metaphor or motif to signify the protagonist’s movement in my story.
The title, “The Torn Saree”, is based on my motif. Throughout the story the saree is used to display the girl’s
desire to move on and change her life. This was brought about by the poem ‘The Road Not Taken’ which used
an extended metaphor of two literal paths as symbolism for life. The ideas throughout both these texts were
very different but the extended metaphor was used in the same way, to symbolise change. ‘The Road Not
Taken’ also inspired me to follow the ideas of doing something more, something different. Since the poem
was about wanting to do more by taking the path no-one else took, I used that idea for my short story where
the main character wanted to do more with her life and hence chooses to escape her previous one.
Thus, the influences on my writing by ‘The Flowers’ and ‘The Road Not Taken’ have explored the ideas of
curiosity and the aspect of desire from the stimulus. Different techniques such as sensory imagery,
foreshadowing and motifs have assisted in the exploration of these concepts throughout my story.