In Love With Freedom

The hard hitting rain drops had changed to a soft drizzle by then. The air in the cabin felt suffocating. She pulled out her jacket and tied her hair into a high ponytail.

Outside the weather had turned into a romantic poetry. Light drizzling, sunshine finding its way in between the parting clouds, a half rainbow and a flying seagull.

She stood gaping at the sky, wondering if it was a painting. She held the bars tight and stood on her toes to see below. Crystal clear blue water, rippling through the movement of her mini ship. She could see small fishes swimming back to their home or maybe to a new place just like her.

She held out her hands and smiled to the open nature welcoming it, embracing it in all its glory.

“This is life. Calm, serene and most importantly beautiful.”

A camera adorned her neck but somehow she did not want to take a click. She wanted the scenic beauty to create the most perfect photo on her retina whose snap shall always be a part of her memory. Surprisingly the weight of the camera did not seem as much of a burden as much once the only sign of her marriage, her mangalsutra, had felt.

She did not want to think about it. Not at least now. But the reasoning of her mind lost to the memories she had in her heart. She did not realize that it had been five years, five whooping years since she left home. The home which was never her own.

She was 21 when she got married to a man who claimed to have fallen in love with her the very moment he saw her for the first time. In a matter of merely a month they were husband and wife. The first month was a bliss, a sweet never ending honeymoon that abruptly came to a halt when during a heated conversation, he slapped her for the first time. She was outraged, shocked and to an extent scared but she preferred staying silent. Her first mistake. She assumed that maybe he got very angry and he won’t repeat his mistake. How wrong she was. In a month she knew that he was controlling and abusive. But still she thought she could make things work out. Her second mistake. She took him to various therapists but to the outside world he was near perfect, well behaved, very loving husband who made a great pair for her. Every now and then he beat her for things as absurd as talking to the neighbour. She suffered but never spoke a word to anyone about it. Her pride and her crushed self esteem did not allow her to do that. Ten years, the most beautiful ten years of her youth passed by in misery. She kept finding excuses to stay and he kept abusing her in different ways. Every love has its limits, hers had been stretched way too much. They did not have kids and he shamelessly called her barren without even getting himself checked once. She was not barren, she knew it but found it unnecessary to prove. There was anyway no one who would have listened. Staying weak for so many years, she became a volcano. A volcano that was ready to erupt.
And one fine evening it did.

He came home and found that the tea had no sugar. He threw the boiling tea at her. It scathed her arms but then stirred her soul. She got up and slapped him hard. She looked deep into his eyes and told him firmly that if he dared to touch her again she’ll call the police and get him behind the bars. The very next morning she packed her bags and left. She had earned enough in those ten years to have a decent saving. She left no note, no number, no address. For him she disappeared.

“Hey Meera would you have a cup of coffee?”, yelled her captain.

“No I am fine. Thank you.”

Since that day she pursued her love for photography. She did a short course and then started travelling, meeting people, going on excursions. Not even once did she feel tired. Or bored. Life had something new and better to offer every passing day. This journey was of them.

The salty breeze of the sea hit her nose. She inhaled deeply. She was happy and more than that she knew she was respected and adored by people around. It was difficult initially for her but then had she stayed she would have never known what life could offer. For the first time in years she was applying make up because she wanted to look beautiful and not hide bruises. She could sing to her heart’s contentment without someone telling her to shut up.

Suddenly she saw a dolphin far away in the sea, jumping out of water, diving back and moving forward as if she was dancing with joy. Her synchronised movements were like lyrics of a song, a beauty. She kept looking at it. The tiny rain drops on her face, the hazy mist, the aura of mystery and her never ending thoughts.

“Freedom gives us wings. Love that shackles away that freedom is not love. You can try very hard and fail but then staying in a position that makes you feel miserable is unfair. Sometimes you have to move out, experience life in you, bubble out joy, scream , yell, laugh, and cry but the tears should of joy. Those ten years were painful. But what followed were the most beautiful days of her life. She did not regret leaving that home. The only regret she had that it took ten years for her to make a decision, as simple as being happy, too late.”

She waved to the dolphin taking a snap.

She was smiling. She felt liberated and thankful for giving life another chance.

The Right Decision

The sea was stretched as far as her eyes could see. Deep blue water shimmering like sparkle from the light of the stars that adorned the sky. The sea was quiet, just like her, there were a lot of ripples deep within but on the surface both appeared calm. The sea in all its glory resembled her in every way possible. Her blue eyes glittered in the dark most probably because a tear just made its way down her face leaving behind that little glint of its moisture. The sea just like her gave life as well as challenged life when it wanted to. She thought of her kids, her joy of life, her reason for living which life mercilessly took away from her last year. The terrorist bombing took away everything and left black smoke, hazy vision of her dying kids and bleakness in her life. Her heart ached. Her children suffered because some people wanted to prove their might over our country. But how? By killing innocent souls? She was no one to ask this question as today she had to do the same. With her children her conscious was also ruthlessly bombed that day.

The sea is a habitat for so many living things that were nurtured in its existence just like her, those days when she had a family where everyone called out to her for something or the other. But today the sea with all its calmness was prepared to avenge the destruction that humans had caused. The night before the Tsunami of 2005, the sea felt silent, a silence that shouted of the impending doom. The dark waters receded before it lunged forward to destruct everything that came in its way. Was the sea ever guilty for its revenge? No it wasn’t. But then why was she thinking so much.

She saw her jacket kept next to her bed, the clock was ticking faster now. Beads of perspiration appeared on her forehead. She glanced at the clock and then at the picture of her kids. She felt a similar pain that she felt a year back. She knew how it felt to lose everything and live like a zombie.

She wore her jacket and went out.

The sun came out of the sea spreading its reddish hues in the entire sky. Red the color she hated, the color of her children’s blood that was scattered in the park that day and the color of vengeance.

If she did what she was asked to, she would cause another breed of people like her to be born. She was not ready for it. She had to die either ways but she had a choice of life above death. Her ankles were deep in the sea by now, nothing deterred her , she kept walking.

Far away in a police station there was a lot of commotion. A bomb had just blasted and that too in the sea leaving the officials baffled because no causalities were caused. None except one.

Alone yet Not Lonely

“Siya baby wake up”, she heard her mother’s voice.

She saw her mother looking beautiful wearing a spotless white cape, her dark tresses flowing, her big eyes brimming with love and her smile, which everyone said resembled hers. She raised her hand towards her smiling sheepishly. And the moment their fingers were about to touch, she vanished away.

She sat up with a jolt. It was just another dream. Dreams that showed her mother trying to reach out to her. Dreams that made no sense but yet that were everything to her. Somehow she knew she’ll never be able to get over the loss of her mother. Her mother, her best friend, her confidant, all lost battle to that disease which people called cancer and she called “her enemy”. It was hard for to get used to the fact that her mother won’t be around.

She lived with her father, her elder brother and her grandmother whom she despised. Her grandmother never liked her and held her responsible for all evil that befell on the family. And even she hated her for the reason that she constantly urged her father to remarry. Step mothers are bad, perhaps granny hasn’t read Cinderella , she often thought.

An intense pain had started to grip her past few days. She held her abdomen and gave out a shrill cry. Her father came running to her enquiring if she was fine. She looked at her father, his ashen face, his swollen eyes that gave all the lies he spoke about being fine, the clothes he wore weren’t ironed, how could they ever be, mum was not here and grandmother did nothing except chanting her verses.

“No dad I am fine. Just a little stomach ache. Can I skip school today”, she asked meekly.

“Of course sweetheart. But promise me if it worsens you’ll give me a call and you’ll be a well behaved girl behind my back. I don’t want any complaints from your Granny. Okay? “

“She’ll complain irrespective of that Dad and you know that”, she stuck her tongue out.

He kissed her forehead and went out. He knew his mother was emotionally scathing his daughter by her vicious words but then how can he leave her alone. Since the day Siya’s mother has left he felt his desire to live had dampened but he had to live for his daughter who was doing everything to fill up the void.

Since her mother’s death she had matured a lot. In her last days her mother kept talking to Siya alone maybe transferring all she knew to her. Since then she never made unjust demands, her homework was duly done, she got up on her own, dressed up for school, made food for her dad, never answered back her Grandmother. She started to fill for her mother’s place. Every evening when her father returned , she would rush to him with a glass of water asking him how his day went and narrating him each and every single event of her day. Somehow maybe she and her mother had a secret bond that nobody would know. Siya wanted to become a doctor to know what killed her mother and to stop it from killing anyone.

But today she laid in bed withering in pain. She walked to the bathroom and to her utter horror she was bleeding and that too from down. She stared in horror not understanding where the blood came from. She was just nine. She sat in the bathroom, crying.

“Why am I bleeding there? Have I also got cancer? Am I dying? Whom should I ask? Granny? Oh no she’ll never help me. Should I call dad? No No he’ll be very worried. When mum told him he broke into tears I can’t do the same. Whom should I call?”

Suddenly she remembered that her mother gave her a number to call whenever she was in a problem.

“Hello.”

“Hello Young Women Helpline. How can I help you?”

“Ummm I am bleeding and that too from down and its paining in my stomach.”

“How old are you?”

“Nine.”

“Okay hold on you are fine you just got your periods. Where is your mother ? I guess I need to talk to her.”

“ She is dead.”

“Okay. Where do you live?

“I live in Asha Apartments, second floor , 3^rd flat.”

“Okay wait we are sending help.”

After 15 minutes the doorbell rang.

Siya opened the door and found a plump woman standing there.

“Hello sweety. Let's get to your room. Okay give me an undergarment of yours.”

The lady unwrapped a white thing that stuck on her bottoms. For the next one hour she told her what happened to her and explained her how to deal with it.

“I’ll be leaving now. Next time you face a problem give us a call.”

“Thank you. “

The lady looked at the photoframe on the bedside.

“Is she your mother?”

“Yes .”

“Your mother was a beautiful human being, And you know what she was the one who initiated this helpline. I have just started working there  but I have seen many photos of her in our office. I am glad its because of her that even I was able to reach out to you. God Bless! And make your mother proud one day.”

“Dad was right. Mum could make anything alright, even when she wasn’t around”, she smiled to herself and closed the door.

Very soon I’ll be a doctor.

The Proud Daughter

She came out of the Girl’s washroom for the 5^th time in past half an hour. Anxious she walked up and down the corridor contemplating if she had taken the right decision.

“If not today, then never. This is the only way I can put to halt all these boys and girls who have made life a living hell for me. As if it was any good  but now I have to bring an end to it. I want my respect back and I want these ignorant people to know that how difficult it is for anyone to earn a living.”

“Are you giving the speech today”, asked a girl passing by.

She nodded.

“Perhaps about how to spread your legs and carry forward your legacy”, she smirked and left.

Those words stabbed her making her feel sick. Tears welled up in her eyes which she dabbed away.

“How cruel it is for people to say something so heinous so casually. What if I would have abused them? But that is not who I am. I will give all of them a prompt reply. I have to do this today.”

She went towards the podium  that stood in the middle of the stage of the school auditorium. All eyes were on her. Some mocking, some passing comments, some just smiling and a very few whom she called as her friends giving a reassuring look. Her throat felt dry. She coughed a few times and then clearing her throat a few more times she took a deep breath. The crowd was getting restless making sounds of “boooooo” and yelling at her to get off the stage. The teacher went and gave a pat on her shoulder.

“Speak my child. You are doing nothing wrong”, she whispered in her ears.

“A very Good Morning to all of you. Today I stand here infront of everyone to voice my opinion against the harassment that I have been facing for the past few months. I have never given a public speech till date so kindly bear with me. Few months back some seniors of ours visited a red light area where they saw me because that is where I live. My mother works there”, her voice quivered as she spoke.

“I was hiding this fact from everyone ever since I joined this school because I knew people will be biased and then pass lewd comments about my mother which is totally uncalled for. Yes she is a prostitute but that is her profession. Back at home when she is with me , she is same as your mother is with you. She cooks for me, she scolds me when I don’t study, she is the reason that I have a roof on my head and she is the reason that I am better human being than most of the people sitting here. My question here is that does her profession define who she is or who I am? My father died when I was two. My mother did her best to give me food but the sources of income were scarce and that is when she went into prostitution. She could not see me starving, crying and getting drenched in rain as we had no home. She succumbed to the circumstances. Many of you will question why she did not choose a more respectable job. She did try. She worked as a maid in a few homes where men gave her wolf stares and once one even tried to outrage her modesty. She changed many jobs but the truth my dear friends remains the same. Even in the corporate sectors sexual advantages are hard to ignore. Girls are pressurised into it. They work and sell their morals on the road to success. I am not saying everyone does that but when you have a hungry child back at home money becomes God. Morals couldn’t satiate to our necessities. So she chose to earn with her body. What do you think is it easy for her to be clawed by different men who belong to the upper or the respectable class of the society. Her selling her body is cheap but men feeding on that is just a social get away! How fair is that? The problem that I was facing was that since the seniors found that I was a daughter  of a prostitute , they spread this news like a wildfire in the entire school and  almost every second child started calling me “whore”, “slut” and even worse asked me if I was available for a night. Do you even understand how demeaning it is for me? Had my mother wanted to turn me into a prostitute why on the earth would she send me to a school where the kids of the most elite people study?  She wants me to study hard, get into good college and make my life worth living. She despises her life and she prays every night that I come out of college with flying colors. And you know what I am proud of my mother not because of her profession but because she is more humane than many other people. She has taught me to respect every individual and also taught me the harsh realities of this world. She not only sends me to school but also sponsors the  education of a few more girls whose mothers left them in brothels. She is a warm hearted woman who believes in God. She believes that everyone is equal. I would conclude by saying she sacrificed her life for me and I want to concentrate on my studies. Please I do not sleep around so stop asking for my rate card. No mother would want her child to enter this dark world. NEITHER AM I A PROSTITUTE.  Just like you I am a random girl searching for my dreams. Thank you for your patient listening”.

Tears fell down from her eyes. The teacher quickly came and gave her a big hug.

“I am so proud of you. You did it wonderfully”, she beamed.

Suddenly there was scraping of chairs and a commotion in the auditorium. Almost everyone was standing by now clapping loudly as if telling her that she was accepted and loved. Those who called her names hung their head in shame. The rest were applauding.

She smiled. Finally she restored her respect and got back the dignity that she thought she never had.

Later that evening

“Amma I got a prize at school today.”

“For what?”

“I got it because of you”, she hugged her mother hard who sat bewildered and confused about what her daughter just said.

She knew Unconditional Love

She sat on the couch and turned the television on, casually flipping the channels occasionally glancing at the wall clock.

“There still are 40 minutes to go”, she told herself silently.

She looked towards the kitchen where she left the coffee for brewing.

“He loves strong coffee”. Smiling she inhaled the aroma of coffee wafting in her home.

She took a week off from office, a much needed break from work. She grew tired of being a software professional, for a while she wanted to do nothing, sit at home, cook good food, chat with her friends, try new recipes and read. Two days had passed in bliss. She slept to her heart’s contentment.

She again looked at the watch.

“Oh God why is this clock testing my patience. Relax!! It's just a matter of 15 minutes.”

She was waiting for her husband who usually arrived home by nine. All tired and worked up. She looked around the interiors of her room, the plush leather sofa set, the big LED screen TV, the Kashmiri handwoven carpet, the marvellous collection of exclusive dine ware, her mahogany bed and her sparkling chandelier. These were the luxuries for which they worked day and night for the past five years. She smiled remembering her first day in this house when they slept on the floor. There was nothing, empty. But still, today after everything she felt empty. These luxuries failed to provide comfort. Her soul yearned for motherhood. She wanted her child, her very own sweet little child. She wanted someone who could bring a splash of color in their drab life, someone whom she could scold for sketching on the walls, someone for whom she would run through the entire house, someone whose laughter would kill the silence that prevailed in her home.

Today she was determined to talk to Runal, her husband, about it.

The sound of the bell brought her back to the reality.

She  welcomed Runal with his favourite coffee. Surprised he asked the reason for her happiness.

“Runal I was wondering don’t you think it is time that we should think about a child.”

“What is the hurry?”

“I am already 32 Runal, the more we extend this, the more complications we’ll have.”

“What is the need for a baby? Are you not happy with me? We are living a life we have always dreamt of. Why do you want to even bring a child into it?”

“Runal bring some sense into your talks. You don’t produce babies to fulfil any needs. I know we have everything and ultimately whom are we earning all this for?”

“I am earning for myself. I am making it very clear to you I don’t want kids and the discussion ends here.”

He went inside the slammed the door hard.

Something cracked inside her, perhaps her heart.

She wanted a child. She thought she’ll again try talking to him knowing that it would be useless. Runal dressed up and came outside declaring that he’d be late. Before she could even say a word he went out. She looked at the watch again.

11pm

I guess it's already too late.

Runal was driving very fast on the empty roads of the city.

“I have to tell her now. I have to. I can’t keep it a secret now. All these years I have taken all precautions to hide it, taking extra measures to prevent any effect on her but now I have no escape. Impregnating her meant sowing the seeds of my disease in her. Damn! I can’t even think about this. I do not want her to suffer the way I am suffering everyday. I still regret getting this tattoo done. How would have I known this tattoo would alter my life this way making me an HIV Positive person. And there are high chances that the child will have the same disease. But if I tell her she’d hate me, probably leave me, abandon me but if I don’t I’ll deprive her of joys of motherhood. What if I tell her that I am infertile? But then someday my HIV will lead to Aids then what will I do.”

Suddenly darkness engulfed him, he lost control.

He felt a hand on his head, a warm liquid on his cheeks and then a finger wiping it away.

“Where am I”, he wondered.

He felt intense pain trying to bring his senses in order, a hazy appearance sat next to him. It was his wife.

“Runal? Runal? Doctor I guess he is gaining consciousness”, she rushed outside.

He looked at her. Her eyes were swollen and red. Her dishevelled appearance showed her anxiety. When the doctor exited he asked her to come and sit next to him.

“I have to tell you something.”

“I already know that. Your blood reports were given because you lost excess blood during the accident.”

“Then what are you still doing here?”

“What do you mean by that. I am your wife. If I will not be sitting here who else would? I guess he operation has had a bad impact on your brain”, she smiled.

“Are you not angry I hid that from you?”

“Angry? No. Sad? Yes. I wanted you to tell me and not the doctor but I guess you had a reason for not telling me.”

“Why are you still with me? You can leave.”

“I did not marry you to leave you when you require me the most. I am here and I will stay. And you don’t tell me what I should do or not. You have messed up enough. Now let me take control. See you are so bad at handling things alone. You need me and I need you more than I need a child. By the way I have filled an adoption form and because you have fractured your hand I copied your signature”, she giggled like a naughty child.

“ I love you.”

“If you mean it never lie to me again. Take rest now.”

“Won’t you say you love me too?”

“Ummm is it necessary? I’ll say when I feel like. I said it around a thousand times when you were unconscious. You did not reply. You know how I felt? I felt like you were slipping out of my hands. You should be glad at least I am wide awake listening to your love saga and blushing.”

He closed his eyes and slept peacefully, for the first time in so many years.

The Eternal Beauty

She desperately searched all her drawers, scattering every thing around. She rushed to her bedroom and opened the cupboard, there it was , a copy of the photograph that was clicked around 25 years ago. At that time she was just 18 and the reigning beauty queen of the country, Miss India 1989.

She stared at the picture, how lovely she looked. Her flawless skin, long black curly hair, her luscious lips, a figure that could put to shame even the most beautifully carved statue and a smile that  the country died for. So many fans used to stand below her home all night to catch one glimpse of her and even more proclaiming their endless love for her. If she waved once from her balcony that would make the news headlines for the next day.

Suddenly she was enraged, she tore the picture in pieces and the moment she was about it throw it out of her window it struck her that the only memory of her beauty had been destroyed by her. Tears rolled on her face. She ran towards the dressing table and switched on all the lights and peered into the mirror. With age pigmentation had started to show its effects on her skin. Her eyes had lost their shine, her chapped lips were devoid of any moisture and resembled a poorly painted red wall whose plaster was chipping off. Her skin was sagging at places and the stretch marks had begun to show. Her once flat belly had a decent amount of weight on it. She cried and cried.

No amount of yoga, make up or surgeries could make her look young now. Thousands of botox implants, lakhs spent on makeup and hair transplant and still she appeared old. All her life she feared what if her beauty fades away not because she wanted to be the most beautiful but because she knew that once her beauty fades away no one would care about her. And now her nightmare seemed to come to life.

She was Miss India but she could never make it to movies. Many directors put all their money on her but a charming face cannot make up for the lack of acting. She was a big disappointment as an actress but still a super star in the advertisement world. Her smile pursued men to buy the toothpaste she uses in order to get that once date promised in the ad for one lucky contestant. Ladies envied her. But today she was close to being nothing. The rusted bars of her iron gate had no visitor since a long time. She’d sit in the balcony hoping some fan of her would come and shout to her. But nobody did. She sat in silence suffering alone. “She was a thing of beauty, a joy forever” but now she felt useless.

Her fears turned her paranoid from that very day when she read an article in a bollywood magazine about stars that got one night success. All her myths about her popularity came crashing down when she saw her name on the top of the list. She was never a star. Just a model for some endorsements and that too long ago.

She feared if they saw her now they’ll mock her. Laugh at her ugly looking body. He ran to the bathroom and turned on the shower. She scrubbed her body hard and came out shinning. She wore her best dress and applied makeup that made her look better. She stood in her balcony inhaling the scent of the city of dreams that once made all her dreams true and with that she took the plunge.

She jumped from the balcony.

She had one problem just one. She did not want the world to see her getting old. She wanted them to remember her as a youthful lady whose beauty never faded....