A dark, satire I wrote on dowry that is still seen in India.
The end syllable “coin” had struck a considerable interest in the bridegrooms, fat and near bald father.
As he pursed his lips and rose his spectacle just up to look into his phone about Bitcoin…
…it hit him hard.
He was about to get rich, he dreamt, he drooled. He thought of all the scented toilet paper he could buy, the white gold for his missus and a majestic flat for the family….
…and soon found out the call he was in, had gone silent.
He wouldn’t allow this opportunity to pass like his playful habits of passing gas in crowds…
…fat thumbs which had committed sins because of greed, gluttony and lust, began furiously dialing the numbers of the Bitcoin bride…
…the reply he got was an eerie, static line at the other end, he dialed again and again and with passing time, a chill ran through his senile spine..
..through the window he could see the near frozen haze of the evening as the sun went down…it was cold but he was sweating hard….
..finally the static gave away to his misery and he heard a woman’s voice..
…“hello?”, said the calm female voice, “I missed you so much!”… his eyes bulged, the very same mouth which acted like a sword, many times, had lost it’s voice..
…a feeble gasp accompanied by horror escaped that vile mouth which made the tobacco soaked teeth clearly visible..
“I missed you so much! papa!”
Right in the wall, up the corded phone, hung the picture of this daughter – his dead daughter decorated by flowers and respected by the pious paste of sandalwood.