A melancholic strain....

Let me tell you a story, the story of a girl, her being…

P.S –This is a true account.

“I will heave you out of my house, mark my words, I will, sooner or later and then you won’t have a roof over your head nor scraps to eat, stupid girl!!” The old man squealed.

The girl blinked. She simply blinked, she didn’t know what she had done, her eyes stinged with tears and her heart grave. She constantly believed in turning a deaf ear to her grandfather. Though she did, the instance would be etched in her heart like a fire brand, and the repugnance only grew…

Her mother was more of a hostage to the old man, than a daughter and his wife, more of a slave. A sad illustration of dominance, she called it. Her mother had to do her work, and not voice a word of concern and her grandmother, had to go about the chores and couldn’t even repent, in a life time.

Reflecting on her past, she sat staring into the intimidating obscurity...

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The past…

She still remembered flamboyantly, a dream of laughter, joy and eternal contentment. What more did she want? What more did she need?

Her mother would trail her around the big house, into the courtyard trying to oil her hair, feed her by the huge drumstick tree everyday, tell her stories about all the pet birds her father owned, the fishes and bees, read her fables of great things bright and beautiful, burst crackers, buy her sweets, laugh with her and play. Pluck flowers from the shrubs and do some gardening. Teach her to be brave, starting with the “Don’t be afraid of the dog” lessons. Blessed mother, she thought. She is blessed. It was a happy existence…

But at 5, the girl’s idea of a happy existence came crumbling down. The house was on auction and she sat watching, as men bid for it, what was bid? She didn’t know… but she saw men screaming numbers, a man on a podium announcing the auctioneer and the bids. Confusing was her first concern and her grip tightened over her mother’s palm. “Mamma, what will happen of Rocky? What about him?? Are they going to scream for him too?” The girl asked with a hint of apprehension. “No child, no…” her mother whispered.

After they shifted to an apartment, at 7, the girl grew to a child of fantasy, and dreams come true. She wanted and got what she want, when she wanted. She was her parents’ soul concern. She went to an exalted school, made friends and turned to be the love of her tutors. “She is exceptional. With leadership qualities and prompt learning, she can do wonders.” Her teachers had said, she had beamed with pride and strived better.

She hated something, something that she didn’t comprehend. Her parents would have a squabble every night, about something, she had no clue about. She only wept in bed and prayed that she would wake up to see her mother’s face the next day. She only wished…

The day came, when she was 8. The day when her blessed mother left her alone. “Mamma where are you going?” asked the girl, with all the innocence she could muster. “To study bigger child, I’m scared that you might over take me in that aspect!” She smiled gently and left with a pat on the girl’s head and a few good words. The little girl cried, but that was to no avail, her father brought her the coloring books and the Barbie doll she always wanted, and she forgot that she had been weeping soberly.

What she didn’t like was yet another thing. Her father would come drunk most of the time and beat her up if she asked why. She learned to remain silent and not to “WHY” everything. Things had changed…

At 10, something strange happened. Something she hadn’t quite expected. And that day there was talk, lots of noisy talk. She had shunned her self and shut her ears. She didn’t know, she was going to live with her blessed mother…

That vacations, she bid good bye to her friends, promised the teachers she would be back and remember all of their names. She was going to her mother.

Her mother was happy, she couldn’t say. What more, the girl had a little brother too. And she loved playing with him and sometimes, like most older siblings, even make him cry.

“Mamma come on let’s go out and play!” The girl squealed.

“Not now child.”

“But why not?”

“Because I said so.”

“But…”

“Don’t you hear me?”

“Okay, I’ll go and play by myself.”

Her mother turned and left.

The girl wondered why she had done that, for long hours. But she couldn’t imagine and “WHY” was something, she wasn’t supposed to ask.

She concentrated on her academics, brought laurels to her self and the institution, but her happiness was confined. No appreciation was the reason.

The girl grew up to a beautiful adolescent. She was surprised that boys called her so. But she never bothered much. She only shunned and shooed them away. Her mother had told her “Never listen to them child, they lie a lot. Listen to yourself.”

Love and affection was something she once had, and now, it was unfathomable. Things had indeed changed.

Her mother began to return home late. The girl would sometimes see her, if she ever woke up early or even if she slept late. She didn’t understand why.

She poured over her books. Fat ones, slept over them sometimes, and the girl would only wonder. “Why mamma?” She had asked once. “Why do you study so much?? I won’t over take you. Not to worry!”

Her mother only laughed a sad laugh. “You won’t understand now, there is time.”

At 15, a troubled teenager, the girl grew stubborn, arrogant and ignorant. She hated people who made her jealous. Jealous by talking about their family.

“Guess what!? I had been out with my parents to watch this movie…It was so amazing! I ate popcorn, laughed about it over dinner at this restaurant and… and…”

“That’s enough, thank you. I don’t want to really know what you did.” The girl would reply and walk away.

“Weird!” her friends thought. “She wasn’t like that before, was she?”

The girl knew why she was weird. She always wanted to watch THAT movie and go to THAT restaurant. But she was never able to. Her mother would always say, “Let’s watch it when it comes on TV.” And ... “Ask your grandmother to cook what you want. You’d have digestive distress eating out. Jaundice…typhoid…cho…” The girl would cut her short and walk away.

She became the cause for concern. Her father called her mother often and blamed her for destruction. He spoke philosophies to the girl, and that irked her more than anything else.

One day, frustrated, thinking she had had enough, she burst out. “Stop calling me back, ever okay?! I have had enough! You are a fraud, a loser, a cheater and not my father!” And that day, the line went dead…

The home she lived in was something short of hell. People living in it, were all disciplinarians. At school discipline was fine, at home, it was too. But when it started doubling, it got on her nerves and she screamed.

Her grandfather was a staunch disciplinarian. Another idol of Hitler. That’s what she called him. “Discipline is torture” She concluded. “Disciplinarians are Satans”… “And I’m living in hell!!”

Restrictions began conjuring her petite personality. Privileges were taken away and her laughter were put an end to.

She wouldn’t drop by her friends’ place for parties, lunches or sleepovers. Why?

She was ridden by guilt. Guilt, that she couldn’t do the same.

She wouldn’t call a single soul. Why? She was scared.

Her grandfather would pick up the parallel line and shriek on it, much to her embarrassment and the other person’s alarm. “Are you alright?” they would ask, and the phone often went dead. She stopped making calls, and that didn’t bring her any friends, hostility is all she got. She couldn’t tell anyone.

Meal and shower times were restricted like a boarding school. The girl hated the turn of events. She stopped eating with others and even getting out of her room, for the fear of being spoken about, being snubbed by her grandfather, for the fear of screaming and getting thrown out… She would often sneak the food into her room, not wanting to face the wrath. Her little, miserable rat hole. Her only place of comfort.

She felt like an orphan. An orphan with people around her. Love was a distant word.

So much as to, her beloved hobby, reading the newspaper, became an issue with The Hitler. He would question her if she was a man, and why she couldn’t work around the house instead. “Was reading the paper a men’s thing to do?” She questioned to ONE furious and SOME sensitive stares. She sneaked in the newspaper too.

She hated being sympathized, pitied like a puppy on a cold winters night.

No fans, even in summer. No lights in the night (even with electricity) – The girl loved to read. She could go doing that all night, but she wasn’t allowed to. “Electricity waste on a petty book.” They said. She loved writing; she would go on for hours doing just that, even starving if indispensable.

No TV. In an urbanized life, that was one contraption that could exterminate boredom. But that was a no-no too.

The girl loved animals. Her mother had taught her to. Her father had too. She wasn’t allowed to keep animals, nor feed them. “You in the house, or that…” her grandfather had told her.

She never wanted to work. Who would want to sweep and swab the floor, scrub vessels, clean windows, and wash jeans (When there was a washing machine?) Her friends never did it all. No one ever did. She felt dissimilar and that complex grew.

She always wondered why she wasn’t asked if she wanted to do. She was only told.

If she raised a “WHY”, she would be compared to her father. “That scum!” she thought.

On raising questions her mother would just turn a deaf ear, a straight face, a blind eye… didn’t she ever know? Didn’t she ever realize? The blessed mother…

Her grandmother would weep for her. “Change is inevitable child, it is. Learn to live with it, or you wont live. Your fate was that, and you were destined for this” she used to say. But the girl didn’t believe in it, nor did she understand why she had to change. Wasn’t being yourself a part of life?

She lived in poverty of richness, a place where no love could be found nor expected, but only wished for.

The girl had seen her mother’s plight. She was studying to work and working to earn and earning to keep her and her brother safe from the evil clutches of the society. She never once complained. She admired her mother’s patience, her persistence, and her power to endure…Blessed mother.

Her friends were spendthrifts; get what they want, when they want, kids. The girl couldn’t afford to be that. She HAD been that, she had known how it felt. Now…she couldn’t. She would be as economical as she could, and watch others have fun, knowing her time for fun would come, sooner or later… And she didn’t consider the “Now or Never” phrase for it.

If she was tempted to spend and she did, she would cry in the nights. Pray to God and ask for his forgiveness, promising him she would never waste money that way, ever again.

Yes… She prayed. She felt a strange peace when she did. She knew she was God’s child. His very own. She cried herself to sleep EVERY night; there was still an aging, emotional girl in the shell of what people thought was an arrogant teenager.

God spoke to her through his ways, by keeping her alive and breathing, keeping her safe and sound. She could only thank him, and wish her wishes, dream on stars, cry on the inside but still smile on the outside, for she knew it spread joy… It was God’s gift.

Her friends soon called her an angel, coz they knew she could detect sorrow anywhere. Absolutely anywhere. It was indeed a miracle. She spread smiles, counseled them, comforted and confronted them. Some said she had the charm, some were nothing less than jealous, but the girl knew, she had nothing.

People came to her with problems, and though she was plunged in them, herself, she helped them to the best of her ability. She smiled beneath tears and had the fun she could, unsure of when it would all come to an unexpected end.

She wasn’t dramatic about her condition, unlike the rest.

“Oh my God! Such hell... I didn’t get those jeans coz my mum didn’t have change for her shoes!! Can you believe that?? She said I’d have to wait until next week!!” Her friends would squeal…

The girl would smile to herself, a sad smile… “You have no idea…”

She hadn’t shopped with her mother in years…

Friends were all, she thought. But no, there was betrayal in store too. She put up with it. When anyone spoke ill about her, she would put it off, feel bad but not bother later.

Her mother complained that she was good with her friends and lost patience when it came home. But she didn’t understand “WHY”… A reason for everything. A cause for every reason.

Life’s lessons were being learnt. And fast. The girl wanted to run away from home, far-far away. She stayed for her mother. Her grand mother too.

Death was an option, but… she was God’s child! She couldn’t die without proving to the world, doing work assigned to her by him.

She zapped back to reality… So much had happened in her life. Yet, so less. No miracles. Waiting for one, for a release from the shackles is all she could do.

Will she get the life she always wanted? Or will she give the life she did need, to someone else. We will never know…