And then she screamed, a voiceless scream that went unheard. She stood there waiting, crying, laughing, exasperated, wondering what to do next. All she loved was going away, and all she knew was ending up being a facade. Was this going to be her story, or was she supposed to write a new one, she continued to wonder.
Her life had always been a happy one, at least as the world would view it. Born to a middle class south Indian household, education was always paramount, and this had held her in good stead. Independence was a trait her parents had instilled in her older sister and her since a very young age. They were never told they couldn't do something, and this faith her parents showed in her, had always kept her conscious of being on the right path. But being from a middle class family also brought it with certain traditions and responsibilities that were considered innate. While she was taught to value her independence, and have her own thinking, she was also reminded that the family's respect was always paramount. While she was given the opportunities to work, and build herself a career, there were unsaid truths about when she got married. She didn't need to be told when she entered her marital home, that her husband's family was now her own, and that it was not going to be an easy task managing it all.
Ishita had within her certain maturity, one that came with both age and experience. While she had many things to be grateful for, she remained conscious of the fact that she couldn't be a mother, a part in life she knew she would be perfect for. It wasn't only that she had maternal instincts, or a nurturing personality, or even immense love to share with another, but it was seeing how her parents lit up when they spoke of her sister or her, or the many moments she spent with her nephew, him being excited about the new experiences his parents were taking him through. It was the fact that it was journey that was always going to be lacking in her life, that empty space of hollowness, that troubled her.
But it all changed with when her daughter entered her life. Ishita was caught unaware, a regular work day, a mid-summer rain, and there was this little girl sitting by herself, in deep thought and getting drenched. Whether it was that she was a doctor and that's what made her take the first step, or she felt an instant connect, she would never know. But she remembered walking to this little girl, all of five years, her head bowed down a little, a slight tear in her left eye, a mole above her lips, and a slight twitch letting Ishita know that this little girl wanted to be heard. Reminiscing, she remembers touching her lightly on the shoulder, simply wanting to ask the little girl where her parents were, and if she was alright, when the girl enveloped her in an embrace, and just like that her daughter walked into her life, filling it with gay abandon, with restlessness, with a constant sense of inertia. And it was this dependency, which made her wonder more than anything else.
Raman was a nice man, he had his heart in its right place, and now that she was married to him for over three months, the initial sense of awkwardness relieving itself slowly, that she realized who he really was. She no longer remembered the arrogant, self-centered man she encountered and labeled as her rude neighbor, but instead when she saw him, she saw glimpses of a father who lived for his children, a son who cared for his family, a husband who was learning to be there, and a man once so scarred, rebuilding his life.
Somewhere in the last one year her life had changed, from being a single, opinionated woman, she had a family now, a husband and a child, another set of parents to care for, and with that the conscious debate of protecting her own identity, and not letting it set sail in the new life she was building. Conflicted, she did not know who came first, what the priorities where, and when she knew, she didn't know how they played out. Whether it was a figment of her imagination, or a situation more complicated than she cared to imagine, she was left to figure it out, one step at a time, all alone. With two families now, she felt orphaned. With building a family of her own, she felt burdened. With being herself, she felt repulsive.
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