She stood there, feeling empty and robbed off the minuscule share of love towards few of those people she can now barely call her own....love cannot be begged, stolen, snatched, forced or hen she started the trip , She did not know what to expect from this trip. She knew it wasn't going to be the same. But after completing the trip she had a whole new perspective AND she felt empty.

Trip back home after a decade had been weird. Not becoz of the time it had elapsed between visits but becoz of the strangulation of beautiful relationships with people she had had known for so far. The fact that someone who used to respect her so much had suddenly made it apparent that she was someone to be ashamed of to be associated with. Someone who loved her son as their own did not want to openly admit the truth just coz she happened to be his mum. It was the most hurtful experience.

She was perplexed and curios. She wanted to discuss about her separation openly. But she realized no one wanted to discuss her personal journey, no one wanted to ask, no one wanted to hear.....everyone wanted to avoid the topic altogether and just pretend they didn't know about it. It made her feel as though they were refusing to acknowledge the fact that she had spent a huge chunk of her life being abused and that hurt. They pretended things were normal and yet they made it apparent she was to be blamed. She was dumbfounded. How can people deny and withdraw from something they refuse to even acknowledge ? Why was domestic violence, abuse, separation and it's repercussion still taboo??

Why should she be denied any family ties just coz she dared to rise above the setbacks ?

Comments

  1. KumarJuly 27, 2014 at 4:00 AM

    She will stand there again and feel loved. And she will forget all those bitter memories as love will supplant everything in her life :)

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Being an Outcast

Image
Ushma's Memoir :  Being an Outcast  It is my journey of coming of age; it’s a saga of being an o utcast and yet creating a niche  in a land I now call my home.  It’s my story of growing up defunct , battling abuse and  defeating depression . I had many hurdles in life, like everybody else,  and I will elaborate on those hurdles later in my narrative ,  but some life-changing incidents redefined me in  ways I never thought possible, especially as a woman.   I have blurred recollection of me growin g up in Kathmandu, my supposed  homeland, but what is vivid in  those scant blurred memories is  the influential positivism our father instilled in us.  They remain vivid and valid because I did not let his words of wisdom fade even after  all these years  since  his untimely and unexpected demise when my twin and I were just six years old.   Maybe  I remember dad’ s words distinctly because  we were meant to remember whatever  he said to us during his short time  spent with us,
Read more

Helping hand or oppression??

When I was a kid, I used to be grumpy at my mum for not having a housemaid to help us out with chores. I saw most neighbours and friends enjoying the luxury and was often disgruntled that she was unwary of the benefits of an extra pair of hands around the house to ease her hectic schedule.  Little did I know back then how prudent and wise her decision was to never have a house maid. Mum occasionally paid money to someone who was willing to bring jerkins of water to our three storey home. She was more happy to teach poor kids for free in her spare time instead of having someone clean the house or cook food for her when she came home knackered from work. She did all housework by herself. She hired gardner occasionally to tend the small patch of garden we had. Once or twice I noticed short term maids at our place but they were all adults with families and mum gave them shelter and work to help them out with financial crunch more than for her household needs. We never saw mum hire a c
Read more

diary

i woke up with the usual dry mouth. Consistency to quit smoking hasn't been that great of late. I know i should give up coz i hate having to sneak out from the unit every few hours lying to my 6 yr old son just for a drag! n' i hate waking up with parched throat n' pungent mouth. but i need the substance for a short break away from everyone....i need my space, a space to breathe n' think clearly n' gather my wandering thoughts. Running around insanely to secure a future for my family, being torn between household chores, family time, professional commitment and a distant love.......feels like i'm on a merry-g0-round...spinning in circles over n' over n' over again! if only ANYONE knew what's going on in my head or in my life.....there are bits and pieces of me scattered everywhere. I know i need to collect them and build my own identity, create a life! when things go wrong and i find myself cornered in the dark spot, i lick my own wounds and console
Read more