I have been observing him for months, he looks tensed. He looks like he has been plotting something, something new, something more dreadful. Something that is again going to cast upon me a feeling I can’t describe, they are only colors; black and red, terror and blood.
Yes, my husband is a terrorist.
I didn’t choose him, I was just owned by him. Just like people own houses. Hollow spaces and no power to express; only accommodate. I remained hollow accompanied by dense darkness. I didn’t love him, but the ache in my torn flesh taught me how to love a silhouette. Every time he crushes his body against mine I feel smeared with innocent blood. Will my offspring be a reflection of him? Will I give birth to another creature with an empty heart and mind only to be filled with manipulated ideals; all tangled.
I heard the television roar with headlines that read:
“Terrorist attack over 300 killed, over 500 injured”
“5 terrorists shot dead”
My heart skipped a beat. Why did I want to see my husband again? He deserted over a hundred homes, widowed women, orphaned children and rejoiced in spilling innocent blood. I slapped myself for alluring his return. Now I was happy that there were five less in causing destruction to humanity.
I wish I lived with an actual human, not just a black outline of a person holding doors to destruction. I wish he could understand the pain of losing, the pain of separation, pain of unfulfilled dreams, pain of absence, emptiness. How I wished he was a human.
I may be someone who grew up playing football instead of the dollhouse. I may be someone who has a dozen guy best friends. I may be loud; I may use my own two hands and feet when I face a situation suitable for it. I will make my voice echo loud and clear when I know I am not wrong. I maybe someone who uses slang or someone with a dominant persona. I maybe someone who has grown up with elder brothers around and so behaves 90 %like a boy. I maybe someone who has had no sister around to suggest which shade of lipstick best suits which attire. I maybe someone who wears sports shoes because they are more comfortable. Someone with short hair or hair tied all up. Someone who doesn’t really like make up. I maybe fat, I maybe ultra thin. I may have pimples, dark patches or an uneven tone. These things often sum up the reasons for a girl to be usually ignored by boys.
A girl is someone who is fair with natural pink lips, perfectly sculpted body with the right cuts and curves, long smooth hair, tall and hazel eyes! Take a moment to think who gave us this definition? Why girls all over are classified on the way they look rather than so many other things that really make a woman. In Indian marriages we want a pretty bride, even if the groom is a downright frog. Can we for once in our life consider what a woman really is than how she appears to be and what society thinks she is supposed to do?
Can we try to view the beauty of her thoughts? Dust away all the doubts she has on her own capabilities. Help her fly, help her wings strengthen to pursue her own little ambitions. See her efforts and intentions to make a relation work, be it of a sister, daughter, wife or a friend alone. Can we try to make her feel comfortable in her own skin rather than force the looks that make her hide behind layers of make up to appear “acceptable”. Be very careful what you say to a woman, It might stay with her for a lifetime. Wipe off the stereotyped image of a woman completely submerged in household responsibilities. She can have her own job, she can work and work as hard as her male partner, pay the bills along with him, shoulder his responsibilities too. She can be as strong as her better half.
A woman today is nowhere around the ancient image of a woman draped in sari with a baby on the hip and busy blowing away her ambitions in flames of the stove. She is independent and beautiful in her own way. She is a woman, she has a mind of her own, feelings that need no approval and dreams that she can fulfill. She is pretty in a way only the right man will understand, she is pretty if you let her be!