If Only She Had A Choice

Sitting across the dining table she stares into space. Lost in thoughts of how life beyond the confines of her home would be. Probably the same she thought. How could it not be such? Her father would only let her be with a man who shared similar beliefs, meaning the man sitting at the head of the table depicts a perfect picture of her future husband. The way he talks, acts, his principles, beliefs, and even the way he dressed. So fantasizing about her prince charming was pointless.

She wondered what minute worth-telling event could ever happen in their lives that warranted such conversations, even lasting longer than the meals? She looks at her parents; they seem genuinely invested. Her two siblings were probably too young to know that somewhere out there, a better dinner conversation was taking place. She sometimes wondered if her mother ever existed outside this apology of a life.

‘How was your day honey, anything to share?’ was the words that brought her back to reality. She refocused her gaze and saw it was her father’s lips syncing to the last words said. Of course, it had to be him. Her mother dared not speak without his permission. After all, he constantly reminded them that he was the head of the house. Only a narcissistic, low-self esteem, apology of a man would constantly need to verify his manliness by exerting dominance over two women and toddlers she told herself. This she codded with a simple cough.

‘Fine father and nothing new’, she said with a smile as fake as that in the overhead hung family portrait. Why would he ask that? was the question that resounded to her. He didn’t grant my request to go out today. So what new thing would I have to share?

Oh! how she missed the times she accompanied her mother to town. Those were the few times joy wasn’t an alienated entity. Her stolen glances at those dresses on display at boutiques. She would drift away with thoughts of how they would look on her. The astonishment of the sight of children not bowing their heads in fear when they walked side by side with their parents, made her aware of endless possibilities.

But this was no more, her bully had sooner cut it short, saying ‘before you start getting funny ideas….’. She was once opportune to see the halls of a school when her father sought admission for her in nearby schools. But her exhilaration at the possibility of having a life outside her home wasn’t anything but that; a possibility.

“Father said he wasn’t going to allow me to be part of an institution where kids were allowed to act so dishonorably”, were the words she said to her mother when asked how their visit went. She couldn’t but notice a dim in the subtle glitter in her mother’s eyes. That’s when she realized her mother probably wanted something better for her than she herself got. But this held no relevance as no actions could be taken to make it so.

The only exciting thing in her life was when she went to feed the animals in the backyard and took a peep at cars zooming by the dusty roads.

Now she is being home-schooled. Taught according to the syllabus drawn by her oppressor. Only knowing the things he regarded as paramount. Every other thing was regarded as an abomination. Going to college was out of the question, as that environment couldn’t be controlled.

This was her life. She knew that it would remain so even after she was sent off to marriage. She just had to make peace with it.

Finally, dinner was over, she helped clear the dishes then headed straight to bed.

“Goodnight darling,” a voice said to her.

She turned towards her future reflection and responded to the greetings. But as she slept that night, she dreamt of another life. Another life where she had a choice; a choice to exist in a world where she didn’t have to dance to the tunes of a dictator.