Monday, 15 October 2012

The Lone Women.

She was a lone woman. They have really increased in number nowadays. You will find them everywhere. Coffee shops, malls, restaurants, vegetable markets, homes, workplaces, everywhere. Wherever you look, you will find them increasing in number like microbes.Buying dresses, books,drinking coffee, reading books, Browsing through jewelleries and so on ,but all alone.

They are the ones who will have very similar choice and tastes and hobbies. Most of them either will be book readers or dress designers with cooking as weekend passion (where the maid would get all the ingredients ready and She will just workout the right combination and stir or fry or mix, and a great dish will be born).
The lone woman was known for her various talent either home bound or at the workplace. She would be an excellent professional, excellent mother, wife, daughter in law, sister in law, and so much more. Giving no one any room to complain, or that’s what she thought. She would try to please everyone and thus garner a great satisfaction when everyone praised her, getting more and more morally bound to her multidimensional role plays in her life.

She would breeze through her twenties and thirties with complete panache and zest, involved in her family, looking after every aspect of life, juggling options and doing her best. She would be a steady companion for her mate. Providing him support, both moral and of course ‘otherwise’, as scripted for the ideal wives by Manusmriti. She would try to make her parents proud that she was born unto them and revel in the praise of her in laws and parents and other relatives whenever they met up for any formal occasion hosted by her ( but of course). She would smile to herself and feel proud of her achievements in life, trying to pick up words and praises a midst all running around and getting the chores done. After all no one should complain.

She would think it was her primary duty to look after her ailing sister in law when she was afflicted by an unmentionable illness,look after her mother in law when she had taken seriously ill for a long time, support her husband with financial help (although no one thought that she should work), teach the children, attend each and every one of their parent teacher meets or annual functions in their schools, get photographs taken for future reference (after all albums were important to prove how accomplished she was) and most of all be a docile and obedient wife when her provider was too tired or too busy to pay any attention to her needs. She did not want to lose the praises. It was in this frenzy she would breeze through her life.

And then one day she would wake up in the morning and look into the mirror, and notice the gray hair at her temple, with a pounding heart she would find the prominent laugh lines around her once beautiful eyes and luscious mouth. She would try to find herself but look at a shadow, a silhouette dressed in her night garb. She would then start with a palpitating heart and search in other’s glances what she knew within her. The life around her would continue in the same old pace that she had set once. Nobody looked at her. They called her, they spoke to her but none of them saw her.

It would be at that precise moment she would start this indescribable confusing set of actions. She would lose all interest in her daily chores. She would get ready and go out for some shopping. First a hair color and then some makeup, few well cut branded dresses, and pair of stylish shoe. All alone. She would fight this lone battle tooth and nail. She would try and remember all her lost passions. How she loved to read books, sang well and danced some mean steps. How she loved to spent time in shopping malls,long drives,dancing in the rain,and so much more.

It would be then that she would decide to look at herself.Now,in her spare time she would visit parlours  go and watch movies, attend parties, browse and buy books and become a regular in the Face book site, all alone. After all social networking was important to make new friends. People who knew her would be quite baffled by her sudden changes both in appearance and behavior.  As she would hone the art of saying ‘no’ more confusion would arise. Her family too would struggle to match their knowledge of her and this newness.

She would start enjoying her life more. She would make friends outside the realm of her family circuit. Others, who once had been benefited by her, would now start ignoring her. She would find herself much relieved. At last she would have her own self back. The praises would still rain but it would be from different quarters, complimenting her looks and vigor.  She would still have that secret half smile on her now painted lips, as if she knew. But she would need the reassurances again and again, as she would find it very hard to believe in the complements. After all, the most important person in her life has never found her either beautiful or satisfactory.

She would keep herself busy all day, so that at night she did not have to ask for anything.And then, when the entire world would sleep and she would find sleep completely eluding her, she would toss and turn and feel herself. She would wonder with thousand fantasies, of a lost life and then the tears would come; slowly gathering on her eyelashes, the salty tears would remind her that she had lost her battle...and there was none to come.


  1. The story of lone women doesn't always end like this. Let the sequel be more positive.

  2. Need support for the positivity.

  3. I liked the melancholic solitude in the writing. Its a feeling that someone who loves sweets, gets after having dark chocolate. But positivity is always welcome. Reminded me of a poem -


    by: Matthew Arnold (1822-1888)

    In the sea of life enisled,
    With echoing straits between us thrown.
    Dotting the shoreless watery wild,
    We mortal millions live alone.
    The islands feel the enclasping flow,
    And then their endless bounds they know.

    But when the moon their hollow lights,
    And they are swept by balms of spring,
    And in their glens, on starry nights,
    The nightingales divinely sing;
    And lovely notes, from shore to shore,
    Across the sounds and channels pour;

    O then a longing like despair
    Is to their farthest caverns sent!
    For surely once, they feel, we were
    Parts of a single continent.
    Now round us spreads the watery plain--
    O might our marges meet again!

    Who order'd that their longing's fire
    Should be, as soon as kindled, cool'd?
    Who renders vain their deep desire?--
    A God, a God their severence ruled;
    And bade betwixt their shores to be
    The unplumb'd, salt, estranging sea.