Every morning I boarded the office bus.
Every morning, I crossed IIT-Madras. I knew Praveen was somewhere inside, studying with all his might. Every time I crossed it, I looked out, hoping to see him somewhere within the visible premises. Foolish idea indeed. Whatever I was doing until then would immediately cease the moment the bus reached Gandhi Mandapam. I would look out until the bus crossed Dollar and Pounds. The man of my dreams had someone called Beulah in his life. Who was she? Then I would start crying again, till I reached office. I made sure I dried my eyes before I got off the bus. This was my daily routine.
I was working, I was earning, and my salary was credited into my parent’s bank account. I did not have the right to even get or save my money. Whatever be my expenses, I had to ask my mom. And mom would ask me a billion questions:
“What do you need the money for?”
“Oh how extravagant of you! We are in a small middle class family. Please learn to save money”
“Mom, I am not asking for all the money, just Rs. 2000/- extra mom, please”
“No”
“I don’t know when you will learn to be responsible”
There, the definition of “being responsible” changed yet again.
Every other month, I faced this mammoth problem and decided to finally tackle it.
“Mom, I want to have my own bank account”
“Not required. As long as Bharati was with us, we were handling her salary. So will it be with you. After marriage, you have to give your account to your husband. Do you understand? Having your own bank account, for a woman, is not required. This is how every woman has to live her life. This is what women are meant to be. When are you going to stop living in your fantasies and come to reality?”
“Mom, but don’t you have your own bank account?”
“Yes. I have my own bank account. But daddy handles it. I don’t. Do you get it? Now shut up and go about your business.”
“If controlling finance is all you want, why don’t you manage your own bank account? Why do you want to pull mine?”
Spank!! A tight slap hit my cheek and I dropped the topic
May be I am the biggest failure that burdened the earth with its presence.
I had so often dreamt of freedom, studying French, standing on my own feet without anyone’s aid. But, here I was – earning the money I could never spend, I had no ownership over what was rightfully mine.
The man I loved didn’t love me anymore.
The lady who supported me all along, was far in Pune, minding her own cup of problems, she seldom had time for me these days.
Was my life worthwhile? Isn’t it a waste of time? Rather than living this worthless life, it would do better to die. But, by dying, I would again achieve nothing. People would cry over me for two days, garland my photo and probably say that I had been undergoing treatment for depression. One never knows what this world is capable of. No. I wasn’t allowing someone to say such non sense of me when I am gone. The point is, you can never stop such non-sense talk after your death. How I wish ghosts truly existed!! But, even if I have to live a 40 more worthless years in chains, let me see if one day, I can be a free bird.. Just one day.. One day enough for me… A lifetime of failures will be forgiven and forgotten……..
So, I started studying my options. Mom was the one always antagonizing me. How about trying dad for a change?!! Let’s go.