In 2008,Curfew was one month old for me.I had just found out about it however never been a witness.I was the length of the tallness of a short table.I was in my T-shirt and thin cotton slacks.Relaxo slippers attached with my feet.It was a scorching July sun.Sweat was slipping parallel to arms appropriate from cut of my chest.One month curfew was incurring significant damage it resembled some gaseous substance filling my head to burst.There was no play for me just the savage canisters.I was peeping out from my window.Street reflected red with silence following.To my unexpected two dull tall CRPF men with shadows fluttering started watching the road outside where I was freezing my gaze.I started pondering about the groups of these equipped men.Who cooks for them.Don’t they get drained standing all day.Where are their families.Thoughts started making a mess when two energetic souls happened to pass the same road who were carrying steel mugs in hands.On addressing they answered they have an infant at home who is starving and are out for milk.Without giving it a second thought to what they said they began spanking them with bamboo canes.Blood began overflowing from left ear of one person.Mug rested in an open drain of my lane.Blood began streaming down his face adding to redness of the street.They were further made an order to surge back home.
I was terrified. I vowed a revenge. I knew a word that hit them bad ‘RAGDA’. I didn’t know about its meaning. I just knew it tormented them. Synchronizing the road two CRPF personnel, advanced to proceed with patrolling. I hurried to the store of my home for a piece of charcoal. I got an éclair shaped. Making beyond any doubt that nobody sees me, I raced to the similar spot wrote RAGDA and surged back. From my window RAGDA sparkled and I gave myself a rest.