As she lay on her almost dilapidated bed, she wondered what it could have been. If things would have gone another way, her way. Life had a funny way of taking a wrong turn for her just when she thinks it was going perfect for her. As if the universe just couldnt fathom her success, her happiness.
She tried making her bed, with despair in her breath and a hint of tears in her eyes. The dim light of the room made her nauseous and claustrophobic. Assimilating every ounce of courage left in her physical self for her mental self had died ages back on a bright sunny friday afternoon in June. 7th June, 7th of fucking June. She tried sleeping. It didnt work. As soon as she closed her eyes she was deep down in the abyss of her thoughts, a pitch black whirlpool of pain and hope,for what is one without the other?
The sunlight pierced through the broken window pane and between the curtains it reached her face, charging her cells. She woke up pandiculating with a faint smile on her face, facing the peeled layers of the damped but once elegant roof,as if she needed a reminder of what her life had been right in the morning. Her smile faded away as she realised she had to get going with her daily chores, one chore at a time, tick tock.
Her work kept her busy most of the time. She worked double shifts. Like a clock the days just ticked by, tick tock, tick tock. With no sense of days or months she would just work to feed herself, just to make sure there is enough energy in the clock to keep ticking.
She made sure her saree looked immaculate. She always felt that the saree was the most complete garment and it gave her unique strength. She got ready, fixed her nose ring in and finally put on her perfume(ittar). The smell of lemongrass with a lingering smell of mint always teased the innermost part of her soul and gave her instant goosebumps. She was ready to seize the day and hit the road. Sun was hitting the skin like a bitch. It was a summer she had never experienced before, she was unable to endure the heat. It pierced her skin, made it dry. The sweat had no mercy on her and took away from her only hope, her ittar.
Chin up, she said to herself and kept the daily toil of work on with a smile as fake as the beauty of today's generation. For her, they knew nothing about beauty, absolutely nothing. She hated them for being ignorant to their own true self but not to the celebrity who would look totally opposite after a face wash. She hated them for being copies trying to fit in when they dont have to, fucking sheep.
It was close to midnight, she entered her room, her friends were waiting for her with 24 karat smiles. She had forgotten her birthday. She had always dreamt of celebrating it with her family and closed ones and today was just that, her friends were her everything for she had no one left to call family. Tears trickled down her eyes, as she looked at their happy faces and for a second was lost in her memories, travelling back to that day when she had last seen her family, that bright sunny afternoon of 7th of fucking June, blood dripping out from her body.
She had never felt such pain, such excruciating pain filling up each and every cell of her body.
She thought death was rolling down the carpet for her welcome. Her day had come.
As she zoned back in, she churned up one of her best acts, the fake smile. They started clapping and dancing, singing on the top of their lungs. She cut the cake and was dancing away her worries while someone shouted from below. One of her friends had to go, there was a customer at her shop whom she had to cater to. She hugged her goodbye as the reverie continued.
She had turned 40. Nowhere close to the dreams she thought she would achieve by that age, rather light years away from them. A slight breeze blew across the room as the pale moonlight sneaked along inside the room from the window. She had cleaned her room and lay on her bed tired from the day’s charade. Looking at the moon, she realised that no matter how gorgeous it looked in its full splendor, that was the one night on which its dark spots were most visible. Yet, she had always loved the full moon with all her heart, she saw herself in it. She had never felt full in her life, never did she feel that her circle was completely round. Moments flew by as she slipped into sleep thinking what could have been if she was still with her family, the same family who had abandoned her. Would they even remember that it was her birthday today?
It had been 15 years since she had seen any of her family. She had pledged to herself not to see them again. A pledge she was gonna break that day. Whatever courage she could muster from within, she gathered it all, every iota of it. She saw her house from afar, she walked towards it, slowly. She had not felt this way in a long long time, nervous. Work clients or pressure of making money as a loner didnt even come close to the nervousness and pressure she was feeling in that very moment. Her herculean act would come short, as she was treading towards her house she saw her family come out together. They sat in their car and left. Happy. She felt a stab in her heart as the tears rolled out, dripping down from her face onto her favourite saree, the first gift she had ever received from her guru.
She went back to work one last time that night. She had decided that it was gonna be her last day at work. As she collected all her money for the day, she went by to a small restaurant and ordered her favourite meal, curd rice with yellow dal followed by gajar ka halwa. Every time she ordered this she would tell the waiter how her mother’s gajar ka halwa was superior to theirs, something which she had not tasted in over 15 years. That night there were no complaints. She tipped the waiter and told her that the food was delicious.
She lay on her bed hugging her only beautiful tangible memory, the framed family photograph. She caressed each one of their faces, kissing them as if they were right there in front of her. Blood dripped slowly out of her arm, staining her favourite saree, but this time there was no pain. For she welcomed death now, she was tired of being alone. Tired of being labeled as a misfit in the society. Tired of being labeled as a eunuch and treated like an untouchable. She slowly faded away into oblivion knowing little that every year there was gajar ka halwa being served on her birthday at her house in her memory for the past 15 years.
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