Life is a blotch of stain, of misery when you know there is no way forward to go. All roads cease and there is no direction but one. The past is muddy, undoable. The things once done are etched on the tombstones. There is a situation when compromise is the only option and then follows death of the desires unveiled, of the things undone, of options, of adventures, of self, of hope.
A third person perspective of viewing something that is a marvel of beauty bound under the regime is what I aim to narrate here. When fate, as we always blame it, has commanded and everything danced on its enchanting hum, everything has turned to the notes and tunes and runs as per. The fragile physique bears the brunt of the no-choice phenomenon bestowed upon the women of your neighbourhood and mine. Not that it is not common and the choice is the same, always. Silent bearing of acknowledged ignorance as she knows to hope could only cause more misery in return. Actions turn impotent and life stagnant.
He comes home all blitzed and stunk, she cooks him sumptuous dinners, she even lays platter of peanuts, chips, fried chicken and cheese with his second round at home because she knows that one thing miss equals a lot of shattering glasses. The two kids watch from behind the door, he learns to follow, she learns to loath. He tells his mother to get him milk, to sharpen his pencil and gives her blanks to fill. The daughter learns the loath and hatred. She hates her father and surprisingly, even her mother. All she wants is to be with her friends, to be a brat and spend on fine clothes. She asks her father to pay for the clothes, he says you have enough, go check your wardrobe and then she starts the inevitable rounds of loathing in her parallel life. She envies everyone who is happy, she became a sociopath, stealing things out of greed of possession, fighting over petty things for entertainment, laughing over the wretch caused to others, she was losing herself and so was a part of her mother who cried in the dark of the night of the things she couldn’t undo because there was no choice. She had no say in her marriage, she has no capability to earn, and her children are drifting away in wrong direction . She is a 24-7 unpaid maid , but the maids still have a choice to step out. All that is left is voluminous wrath stacked inside and a coat of sheer frigid of misery
Have you ever had a similar fire-freeze moment - an unforgettably magical moment when you felt two strongly opposite emotions? Love/Hate? Elation/Sadness? Anger/Sympathy? The desire to move forward yet run away at the same time?
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