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.
This calls for a sequel.
ReplyDelete:)
DeleteThe story of lone women doesn't always end like this. Let the sequel be more positive.
ReplyDeleteNeed support for the positivity.
ReplyDeleteAmi achchi!
DeleteI 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 -
ReplyDeleteTO MARGUERITE
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.