She had learnt to bear silently, blindfolded to the horrors and sorrows of her life. Her life had not been a particularly easy one either but she had to have seen it coming. Often, despite a prolonged impending sense of doom, when doomsday finally arrives in all its fury and as everything advertised the anticipation doesn’t make dealing with it any easier. She knew what she was up against; no one told her it was going to be easy and in accepting her fate lay her strength.

She had grown stronger with each passing day too. Stronger or merely more stoical, it was hard to tell but her blindfold had stopped being damp and the number of hours she immersed in prayer had grown steadily. In oneness, she had found oneness with God. Even sages and hermits lose their temper and utter curses, men who’ve learnt their whole life how to practice restraint often aren’t able to, when they need it the most. Such is the paradox of human nature that even as intelligent species, our intelligence fails us in testing times. She had practiced restraint all her life, all her life she bore silently so that when she spoke, it would matter just that much more. Perhaps that’s what makes it all the more vital what words you choose when one finally decides to speak up. It also makes the timing very crucial.

But that one day, (convenience theorists will argue the case for extreme trauma and overwhelming circumstance) fate had decided in cruel poetry that she would finally have to pay for feeding her faith at the expense of doubt. Finally, after days of silent suffering, blind oblivion and fruitless restraint, her cup was full to the brim and on the brink of overflowing.

She stood right in the center of the battleground amidst pools and meandering streams of blood, severed limbs lying in disarray and putrefying flesh of man and horse. Thousands of women were there too, weeping inconsolably around the vestiges of their husbands and brothers and fathers who had been murdered by their brothers and fathers in a kind of vicious chain of cannibalistic madness and gore. She stood there, aware of everything, all too painfully aware and no different from any of the women. Her cup was now overflowing and her eyes too. From tears of joy when her sons were born to the tears of grief for how they had turned out to tears of seething rage at their death and utter annihilation. She had known for some time now that this day would arrive. All her life, she had tried to prepare for it, to distance herself from it, to practice restraint in these moments but human beings are not meant to perform these superhuman feats no matter how hard and diligently one may have prepared.

After eighteen days of war and lifetime of prayer that brought her nothing but suffering as she tried in vain to swallow a choke, she finally stared at God through her damp blindfold and consumed all her spiritual vitality, gathered but two drops that fell as she squeezed her eyelids shut in the palm of her hand and hurled them at him in a ferocious curse that would hold him accountable. And God had no choice but to respect her curse, a symbol of her humanity for he too, was all too human.

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