Shades of Masks

Shades of Masks

“We welcome our trustee Rameshji. Sir, you are requested to say few words on this occasion,” said Meena devi; caretaker of D and D Kendra.

“Thanks Meenaji. I am obliged to be a little part of this great organization. If my little help can support you, I consider myself lucky. Wish the whole team good luck and love to little children,” Ramesh Seth concluded his speech.

Widower Ramesh was well known for his humanitarian work. After his wife died due to accidental fall, he had devoted his life to support various social causes. He had been supporting old age homes, orphanages and schools financially; D and D Kendra was one of them.

“Meena, I shall appreciate you how wisely you have been running your Kendra. I loved the paintings and rangolis made by the children.” He cleared his throat and continued, “The painting of Devi Kali was beautiful and so was that girl who made it. She looked like a teenager. So you understand …” the old man laughed wickedly.

 Meena, the deaf and dumb girl felt scared as she saw a man approaching her! 

“This uncle is the one who gave me the prize in the morning for my painting,” she wondered. 


“Sarpanch Madam, we will not tolerate this cowardly act. This low caste Jeevan’s son forcibly married my daughter. We don’t accept this marriage. Please do the justice,” shouted an angry Bhola.

Jeevan retorted, “Madam ji. He is lying. I know my son, he will never ashame me.” 

Leela; the village sarpanch retorted, “Mohan and Jeevan. I already had a word with the couple. Both are major and have married by their choice. Let us grow above this caste system and accept them whole-heartedly.

No doubt, Leela was a hero for Chanchal, her granddaughter.

“Daadi, you are the best person. You are so broad minded and impartial.” After a while she said, “Dadi, I think you will only understand me. I like a boy. His name is Vishal. His father works in a factory while Vishal is working in a general store,” whispered Chanchal.

A surprised Leela replied, “Beta, you should have told me earlier. I have almost fixed your marriage with MLA Sadhu’s son. Anyways I will reconsider.”

“Dadi… you are the best,” an elated Chanchal hugged her. Leela’s eyes had widened.


“Does anyone know them,”the police officer questioned the gathered crowd.

“Yes yes. She is Chanchal, granddaughter of our Sarpanch and he is Vishal. He worked in nearby shop,” somebody answered.

 The couple had met an accident and died on the spot. The truck driver had fled the place. Their bike was totally damaged.

Leelaji was in a state of shock. Her beloved Chanchal was no more.

“Had she agreed to leave that low caste Vishal, she would be alive,” Leelaji was angry at stubborn Chanchal.  


“Now we will honour our chief guests Sarpanch Leela and Buisnessman Rameshji for their exceptional social work.”

The whole hall was filled with thunderous claps.


Rate this story/poem:

Click on a star to rate it!

Average rating 3.3 / 5. Vote count: 19

No votes so far! Be the first to rate this post.

As you found this story/poem interesting...

Don't hesitate to share it on social media!

Connect with Penmancy:


Penmancy gets a small share of every purchase you make through these links, and every little helps us continue bringing you the reads you love!

Latest posts by Pooja Gupta (see all)

Let us know what you think about this story.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

© Penmancy 2018 All rights reserved.
%d bloggers like this: