wrong verdict??

'Oh god, I have to make my notes as well' said Sara in a bustle. Sara was a simple & affable natured girl who likes to be spontaneous in every scenario, even if its startling. She could give the answer to the most burdensome question i.e. "Who you like more 'dad' or 'mum'? She always said 'dad' in a blithely way. Sara was down to earth & a voracious reader. 'Mom, I'm going to library real quick, she asserted. 'I can make my notes there'. Her mom argued 'But why do you have to go there, you can make notes here as well'. These things irked Sara. Without saying a word, she left. Her dad had a shop in the direction of library. Sara thought she could take some candies from his shop & then go to library. She headed to the shop & asked him for some candies.' Sara , if you're going to library come within an hour, I am not allowing you to go more than that, her dad commanded. “Ok, fine dad. I’ll be there at that ugly house within an hour, she uttered. She was in full rage listening to these sentences and went to the library.

Going to library & finding peace in that pleasing place made her mellowed. Every Tuesday she went there to be tranquil. Reading books gave her calmness. But she didn’t liked the way her parents used to stop her at small things. So, she decided to stay for long in the library & silenced her phone. Its now 4 hours now since she is there loitering around the library. Straight away, she hopped and questioned" I forgot to see the time. The time was 9:00 pm. 'I need to hurry now' & she catapult to home. She was on her way & heard someone screaming or something alike. As she was walking in a pandemonium, that who is this?? Making her legs prompt in the course of action to reach home, she realized that the voice of shouting is like weeping & a similar one whom she knows very well. Sara is now at the threshold of her home & what she discovered was inexplicable. That tone was of her mother and with a heavy heart, she went inside. Her mother was shedding tears& her sister behold her eyes & uttered 'Daddy died by an accident, he vacate this world , this home and us. Sara's heart wrenched when she heard this. As she paid attention in the surrounding, scads of people were there and because she was not old enough to handle this circumstances, her uncle told her to go away.

She was just reasoning about one word & an intimate one "Dad". Tears rolled down her eyes consistently as rivers flow form the mountains and were unstoppable & so were the fond memories of her dad with her coming in her mind. Its midnight at the scene & someone hugged her form behind, its her sister. 'Take a sleep Sara, I'm with mummy, added her sister. But Sara was adamant to condone that there would be nobody whom she can call "daddy" now. Being fair frizzled she slept inconceivably what her destiny showed her. Nevertheless she tried to relax her mind & slept. Next day, she woke up reluctantly to observe about other's whereabouts and apparently her mother's tears were still wet and demeanour was unconscious. Sara went outside to take grocery items and with complete defiance returned at home. It was 9 in the morning & its pouring heavily. Sara is trying to engage her mind somewhere else. Several people were arriving at their house & consoling the family members, to forget everything that just have had happened.

The corpse is now lying ahead of Sara's house and the hard time is this:- She has to face her for the last time but he's not going to talk to her. As far one could see, there is just sounds of weeping and miserably weeping. After a while, the corpse is taken away for last rites. Sara and her remaining family are not stable, Then, Sara stopped crying and takes out her copy & starts writing. But what's going in her mind? the ultimate fact " anyone who born will go some day leaving all the possessions behind, she's being pragmatic.

It has been now 3 days from the tragedy & Sara hasn't cried. And everyone is now mocking at her for not grieving on her father’s death. Her mother & sister are being strong now. As Sara was writing her book her sister came put & said mortifying" I feel you don't care about daddy as you haven't cried much". A rigor flew over Sara’s body. She said 'of course I do, I didn't cried, doesn't means that I don't love him. Her mother was right besides her and she added,” Yeah, I think the same , I feel that only daddy loved her , she doesn’t loves him.Sara is now feeling scandalized and now disturbed , just reasoning "Do I really don't care"?? "Am I cold hearted"?? " Am I selfish"??

All day & all night only one thing is there in her comprehension,

"Is crying needed"????

Sara is not understanding the type everyone is blaming her not crying as much as normally a person does on his dad’s demise. Is it obligatory to just “weep” down loud to telegraph in how much pain you are and most importantly, in front of people. Is crying an only way to manifest that you’re miserably affected by the demise of someone close to you. These deep thoughts surrounded her , pained her, agonized her. Sara is wondering “may be , she is just too terrible for not shedding tears and doesn’t cares at all about the misleading happenings. She is now observing things as her sister wants to see , from her point of view. Its night of the 5^th day from the catastrophe, and Sara is right away trying to weep down in front of everyone, but isn’t succeeding to showcase her discomfort. And days are passing by and by.

Now Sara’s most longing aspiration is to demonstrate her suffering to others so that they explore that she is really downhearted by the death. Its now been one month and she hasn’t sobbed, its Tuesday at present and she goes to library. There was one book named “Wrong verdict” and that was extravaganza. She opened it started reading, trying to console herself. The book authentically gave her a mood of change, and she perceived a new conception. She tore page 43 and went back home and sticked that on her almirah. There were sentences written on it in bold letters:-

Who says you have to cry? You experience pain in your own way and express your sentiments differently, and there’s no right way to do it until and unless you know what’s virtuous.