I got on a bus after so long to feel the freedom I used to have before marriage. I sat at the window seat and travelled far away from my house, my family, no going back!
It was a clear sky. I had a jute bag in my hand and I was just holding it in a manner that it was osculating. I had little interest in maths, though I have never been good at solving problems, neither in mathematics nor in real life. I am a 36 year old woman, mother of an autistic child, wife of an engineer, daughter of army veteran, and daughter-in-law of a high class business family.
My day starts at 6 AM when I slide the curtains of my room and my husband screams at me because he does not like early morning sun rays coming in the room, though Ahana loves it. I am not saying that I have to be on my toes right from the morning. I have house help, I have a caring mother-in-law and even Ahana my daughter who is an autistic child has this sort of concern for me, she doesn’t bother me much. She is always ready when it is time to get ready, to take a bath and to apply powder. Sometimes she snatches my make up and starts scribbling on a her face, on the walls and everything.
I am out in the market to buy daily grocery and stationery. I have ample money in my wallet but there is something in my heart which is jolting and throbbing to come out. This “something” is telling me – “Yes, you are a grown-up, are a mother, daughter-in-law and a wife.You have a lot of responsibilities but once in awhile take a break. Know who you are!” I thought I should leave my bag and be free from all the responsibilities and get invisible for this one day – no cooking no, cleaning, nothing”. I used to do these chores it occasionally earlier but once I got married, I forgot that I am an individual! A person who gets tired, someone who wants to travel alone someone who loves everything the way it used to be and I doesn’t want things to be fake.
I saw Kabir chacha’s shop and I left my bag there.
Moving out of the shop I was thinking what should I do! I have a daughter waiting for me at home. Mother-in-law might call me in half an hour to ask when I’m coming back. I switched my phone off for a while. I found out a hundred rupee note dropped by someone.
After growing up we think life is too expensive! I have forgotten the times when I used to buy the entire market with just hundred rupee note.
I want to be that kid again. Giggling on small things, not worrying about chores. I got on a bus after so long to feel the freedom I used to have before marriage. I sat at the window seat and travelled far away from my house, my family, no going back! I have various thoughts upon what I can do with that note. I considered myself lost and invisible from world as if I’m time travelling to my childhood.
Thought 1. I would have asked if anyone has dropped it! As I have been taught that you never know who has dropped such money was in its need but I looked in four directions- saw no one.
Thought 2. I’ll grab it and for lunch I’ll buy a Amul dark chocolate worth rupees 99 and to myself and eat it like no one is watching as I used to do it when I was a little girl hiding form my mum in the staircase. I sound like the one who waits for such stray money to eat chocolates once in a lifetime (wink emoji in mind)
Thought 3. I’ll grab it and donate it while going back home at any red light as they will bless me in 100 ways for this petty 100 Rs note, but no! They use it for smoking or buying some cheap drugs what they usually do. I have seen many junkies like them.
Thought 4. I’ll grab it and store it in a handmade jute box where I store my “chillar” of everyday at the end of every week. Was just picking it up just then another thought popped like freshly popped popcorn. Thought 5. Then I remember an incident of my childhood where I gave 20 rupees to some beggar and found her 5 minutes later having chowmein at nearest roadside cart, so the thing was I’ll apply thought no 3 and do the same again today, some beggar might have a pan pizza party. Oops that’s a good idea.
First published here.
Image source – https://pixabay.com/photos/cash-currency-financial-investment-3829601/
A passionate scribbler and wishful bread earner. A voracious reader and loves to connect readers and writers. Author of Ibiza by Geetika Kaura (the name before marriage), worked as a co-author in various anthologies, read more...
Women's Web is an open platform that publishes a diversity of views, indivisual posts do not necessarily represent the platofrom's views and opinions at all times.
Stay updated with our Weekly Newsletter or Daily Summary - or both!
Netflix’s ‘House Of Secrets: The Burari Deaths’ dwells into the shocking death of an entire family of 11 in one night. It throws light on gender roles, superstitions & mental health in Indian households.
(Trigger Warning: This story delves into a documentary about alleged suicide/murder and may be triggering. Spoilers ahead).
Directed by Leena Yadav and Anubhav Chopra, Netflix’s latest three-episode documentary ‘House of secrets: The Burari Deaths’ traces what happened with the Bhatia family in 2018. On a usual summer morning, 11 members of the same family were found suspiciously hanging from the roof in the suburb of Burari. Later it was concluded to be an occult ritual gone wrong.
How many times do we need to remind people that daughters are not liabilities? That the girl child isn’t some object for which the 'burden' shifts on to another person after she acquires the married tag?
How many times do we need to remind people that daughters are not liabilities? That the girl child isn’t some object for which the ‘burden’ shifts on to another person after she acquires the married tag?
A son is a son all his life. A daughter is a daughter only till the time she gets married.
She never let on how much she missed me when I visited her after marriage. It was important for her to let go and help me bond with my new family.
“Pappa!”
People will know me as the epitome of motherly affection and virtue. But they will never come to know of the searing pain that afflicts my life in these autumn years of my life.
The Muse of the Month is a monthly writing contest organised by Women’s Web, bringing you original fiction inspired by women.