(100-word flash fiction)
It all started with mangoes. There she was, hiding among her backyard trees, wolfing down the juicy, golden fruit. An innocent teen, cloistered in the inner courtyard of a Brahmin household, far from the eyes of the world.
The crash had startled the mango from her grasp. A young, ripped body had followed the fallen coconut down the tree. She had burst out laughing. He had fallen in love. Well! She too. Isn’t whatever is forbidden the most enticing?
Eventually, her folks found out. She was married off, hastily, to a Brahmin boy. His body was found in a ditch.
This is something that could very easily have happened 100 years ago in the south of India, in the coconut palm laden villages. Brahmin girls and women were cloistered and not allowed to move about in public view. Their contact with men was limited to only close family members and so, sometimes when they accidentally met men, like in this case, the coconut-feller, who would have been from a lower caste, romance blossomed. It was usually cut short with the girl’s marriage and the guy’s exile or death.
Many thanks, once again, to our head-mistress Rochelle, who keeps us Friday Fictioneers in line ♥
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