A Blurred Persona....

A Blurred Persona....

I sit on the edge of the couch trying to spell out the day that just departed.I can hear the cacophony of muffled sounds from my window half opened in the hope of some air to fill up the cramped up elbowroom of mine...though all I get is the honking of impatient bus drivers,screeching noise of cars,timid jingling of bicycle bells and the awful loudspeakers screaming some empty vows of a crooked politician. Ah! the irony of freedom of speech in the damn democracy!

My mother-in-law sitting in the living room glued to the idiot-box that is tuned into the "sanskar" channel that preserves our religion bound cultural values...the sound of the "bhajans" (devotional songs) fill in the alcove ...the sentiment that it arouses is anything but devotional.

Her mind is racing with the tricks of running the household...by utilizing every iota of edible material present...even if that involves giving away yesterday's leftovers to servants along with some overripe fruits and sour curd,that's heck of a meal for the poor teenagers who have not been provided with a platter of choices. No wonder that their pettiness leads them to tempering with the household money,taking advantage of every opportune moment to divulge all trace of veracity left in their hearts.

Well! I can sum up my day in a simple way, all I could do is save myself some sarcasm and criticisms by abiding by the laws of the house ,being an obedient,submissive and "proper" housewife...that involves achieving an ace in taking care of the fruits and vegetables,grocery and crockery ...cleaning,cooking,laundry...stretching the jobs to fill up the time and the interim is filled up with gossiping,meaningless chitchats ,emoting with the melodramatic soaps and operas that can give you the crash course on family politics and infidelities. They also update you with the latest trends in jewelery and costumes cause the actors literally sleep in them.

Preparing and serving food is my main occupation to the members of the joint family who come at their own sweet time expecting me to be clocked in...my feet aches but I shouldn't crib that's my "dharma" I am told.After picking up their dishes and winding up I head to my bedroom for sobering myself and trying to look my best and gathering up my energies for the nocturnal activities as and when demanded by my better half who disregards the importance of a damn precaution ,making me swallow down pills every morning to be on the safer side as it is his decision to wait.

His sister almost my age bosses around,enjoying her freedom from the shackles of marriage ...clad up in her tees and denims ...driving her sports car ...demanding her absolutely hot coffee at odd hours mocking my aesthetic sense not knowing the pressures of marriage I am succumbed to wherein I don't make a choice of carrying my persona my way.
I wrap myself in a nine meter long saree and toil through the day not getting a moment to look at my reflection...sometimes I think about seeking an answer ...but then I fear ... loosing the approval of my spouse and family...so I prefer these pretentious,dubious interactions.

But I can't deny that sometimes I have to confront myself... and I fail to look squarely in the eyes of my person standing in the mirror glaring at me through the dense mist of so called conventions and traditions to which I stick in order to confirm to the norms like my parents,neighbors and the community. Sacrificing the self with ease not acknowledging the gift of life and potentials that I have also been blessed with.
Its like the story of the bees..if one bee wants to liberate the other bees in the hive not only buzz but sting and crush the one with a "free will". So reaching marginal contentment from the daily grill is by drawing the sweetness from the droplets of nectar that spill over and are spared for the laborer bees who have forgotten that they have wings on them too.
As I sit here and ponder ...I get flashes of me as a child...pampered and loved but always thought of as a weakling and protected,glimpses of me as a teen rebelling the "concepts" of gender biases, images of me dreaming to fly the airplane one day...that was me until my guardians who feared I might pick my way ...preferred a good matrimonial prospect to my aspirations and education and so here I am unable to recognize the free spirited me in this mirror that casts a blurred image of a made up, gagged and bound me.

By Shreeja Mohatta Jhawar

(a real story of my observations of lives and attitude of married women in a conventional setup )