It's Not His Fault -Short Story

Nonetheless, all human beings are lost in the labyrinth of pain. Some find their way outside and the journey makes them stronger than before. Some lose hope and surrender. Some just learn to survive with that pain. They are conditioned to such an extent that they don’t feel it anymore. Indeed, circumstances are not in our hands at times but what we have is, to harness our ability to cope with it. Burning heart and smiling lips! Being emotional is disastrous. It throws in a whirl where things seem complicated and incomprehensible; what you need is to maintain your senses and wait until everything comes out of obscurity. A mature vision is a real savior!

‘I wish I were a bird!’ Pernia was singing in her sweet voice, ’flying high……. into the sky…….when I chirp….’

‘What a melodious voice you have, madam!’ Naseema praised her. ‘It sounds like a thousand bells are ringing.’ Pernia blushed. Before she could reply to her maid, her husband, Hashim entered the kitchen with a satirical smile on his face. ‘Oh! I can see now why my breakfast is late.’ Pernia got embarrassed and started beating egg more quickly than before. He gave her a nasty look and left. The maid noticed it as usual but she didn’t pass any comment. She was a middle-aged woman and early wrinkles in her face reflected that life wore her more frequently. Poverty has its language. It speaks volumes. She adored her madam because she was kind to her. Whenever she showed her the love marks of Rashid: the bruises of the belt, stick, or sometimes a hot skimmer, Pernia’s eyes would fill with water. She would pat her shoulder to console her and give a painkiller with a cup of tea.

Pernia was scrolling her Facebook and her eyes caught the lines by Langston Hughes,

‘Hold fast to dreams,

For if dreams die,

Life is a broken-winged bird,

That cannot fly.

She entered the realm of her thoughts. How beautifully Hughes emphasized the value of dreams. Her life was also like a barren field frozen with snow. Hashim had provided her everything that’s needed to spend a normal life. Ironically, what she needed the most, he couldn’t provide. It was respect and unconditional love. Hashim would make fun of her dreams and never motivated her to pursue them. She wanted to be an author but he told her bluntly that he would not allow this nonsense in his home. He had defined her limits because he had assumed that he owned the remote control of her life. It was he who would decide everything, from the color of her dress to the width of her smile. She never desired to escape from family life and she never wanted to be a party girl at all. She just longed for her own identity that was being crushed by the autocrat in her life. A tear glided on her face and she opened her diary, which was her only trustworthy friend.

Hopes are weeping

On its suicide,

A dear dream died!

Hashim was a narcissist who couldn’t honor the personality of another individual. He was too complicated to be conquered with the arms of love. She would try to justify the false accusations he used to make but all in vain. Her explanations would aggravate his anger and he would start yelling at her. She stopped bothering his shallow mindset. He made her think that she was useless and ugly. Her self-esteem was crumbled every other day but she couldn’t resist except venting it out in her diary. The diary had soaked her millions of tears that carried her silent cries.

‘I’m a bird, fluttering in a cage …….’

She couldn’t show the bruises to others like Naseema used to show because those were not tangible. With every passing day, she shriveled into her shell. She would remember his luring conversations when she was a newlywed bride. Now she just kept on singing to herself,

Your enchanting words echo,

Like cheerful chimes,

In my dreams, I have killed you,

A thousand times!

She was bathing her son, Zoraiz when the doorbell rang. She quickly dressed him up and went to open the gate. It was Rohma, her friend. She hugged her tightly. Her list of friends was very limited so she was really happy to see her.

‘So how is life, my dear? ‘ Pernia served her coffee with chocolate cookies.

Rohma looked at Zoraiz and sighed, ‘You know what can be life without a kid. Emptiness kills me inside. Days are just moving on; dull, drab, and disappointing!

‘Rohma, it’s not the only blessing in the world! You got a loving husband who never rebukes you for not having a child, then what makes you forget your existence? ‘

Rohma smiled with a tint of despondency, ‘Being sterile is the most gut-wrenching sensation. You are not in my shoes, Pernia! How can you measure the agony of having a deserted lap? A thousand lullabies keep on ringing in my mind. I look at my empty hands that are wet with my tears and I ask the Almighty, ‘Why me? ‘Her eyes misted over.

Pernia held her hand affectionately, ‘HE has his plans. Behold the blessings you have and people even yearn for that.’

Rohma interrupted her, ‘If you ask me, I would just demand a baby at the price of all blessings. You are lucky, Pernia ‘

Pernia’s heart shouted, ‘See the scars on my soul that bleed every night.’

Rohma left her in the sea of unfathomable thoughts. She lied on the couch and pondered. Man is ungrateful by nature. Whatever he is given, he takes it for granted. His eyes are always on the others. It’s just like that he assumes that his grief is considerable only. Naseema weeps on physical wounds, Rohma sheds tears for her sterility and she feels a fiery volcano inside. To her, respect and love are the most valuable possessions, and the one who owns it is the luckiest person on the earth.

The next morning Mrs. Shamim, her neighbor knocked at the door and inquired about the screams that she had heard many times before. She was an aged lady and superstitious as well. She advised her to seek help from the spiritual person (Baba) as it seemed her home was haunted. Pernia smiled and thought,’ It’s me who is haunted’. She couldn’t tell her that the silence that prevails inside her, just transforms into screams while she is sleeping and Hashim tells her, ‘ You behave like a psychopath at night. I think it’s an old disease that you have brought with you.’ She couldn’t tell him that what she had brought was just a sensitive heart and he struck it hard. She vented out in the diary,

With ruthless words,

You always stab me,

It hurts like a venom,

Do you not see it?

I scream with pain,

You call me insane?

Pernia!Pernia! Hashim was calling her. She quickly hid her diary under the pillow.

‘Oh! So you are here, mourning for someone I never know.’ He came near to her. She looked at him helplessly. ‘Please, Hashim!’ He grinned maliciously, ‘There must be many after you and you take pride in that.’ Her blood started boiling and she left the room relentlessly.

Days were monotonous and she felt as drained out as a squeezed lemon. She was caressing Zoraiz when her phone rang. She picked up the call and it was Saleha on the other side.

‘Hello, darling! How are you?’

Pernia smiled, ‘Saleha! I am good. Where have you been?’

‘I was in the hell but now moved out.’ Saleha sneered.

‘What? I didn’t get you.’ Pernia was perplexed.

‘I have filed for divorce. Things went beyond my patience’, Saleha sighed.

She was astonished to hear,’ How could you do that? What about the kids?’

‘When you are surrounded by a bunch of bosses, it’s time to take a stand. I tried my best to settle issues but all in vain! I was treated as if I were a puppet! They crumbled my individuality and shattered my personality. Everybody played his part by poking nose in my matters. That is my life, Pernia! My!

Pernia was touched by her pain and her hands were as cold as ice,’ What about Muneeb?’

Saleha spoke ridiculously, ‘He? The coward? He had no courage to call a spade a spade. He would just run here and there to collect complaints about me and spit it all inside the room. After all, he had to prove that he was a perfect son and perfect brother.’

‘I feel sorry, Saleha’

‘I’m also left with these words; sorry, regret, pain! I wonder why the domestic titles are earned at the cost of someone’s dignity? Why on earth do people manipulate the religion for their own sake? All relations must stay in their designated zones and chaos happens when any of them breaches!’ Saleha said bitterly.

‘That’s true, Saleha! You could ask Muneeb to arrange separate accommodation for you? It’s your basic right.’

‘Alas! It could happen if Muneeb hadn’t ditched me. He got involved with his colleague. A woman can starve for days and walk on burning coals but she cannot tolerate infidelity of the one whom she loves. My in-laws provoked him as it was the best vengeance to them as once he forced them to ask for my proposal.’

‘I’m utterly disheartened, Saleha!

‘Don’t be, my dear! It’s over now and I’m stronger than ever. Life doesn’t end here. By the way, you are lucky because you live independently without a platoon of in-laws’ She giggled as she spoke the last sentence.

Pernia lost words. The word ‘lucky’ reverberated in her mind and the call was disconnected.

She sat on the chair with her never-ending thoughts. Her heart was heavy with the grief of her cousin. Everybody goes through pain. We are victims in one way or the other. Naseema is beaten up because of her husband’s financial frustration. Rohma yearns for a child. Saleha is taunted because her husband is not strong enough to support her. Moreover, he cheated on her and it could be the reason that his home had turned into a battlefield rather than an abode of peace. And she? She feels as an accused who goes through court trials 24/7.

Naseema came with new bruises while she was watching TV. All news channels were flooded with ‘Women March’ that was being broadcasted live. Naseema was more hurt than usual.

’Madam! What’s written on that placard?’, she asked curiously.

Pernia read out loud, ‘So here I’m sitting properly’ and the picture was showing an awkward sitting posture.

Naseema looked bewildered.

‘And the other one is, I’m not going to sit at home’ Pernia had a sarcastic smile on her face.

‘Madam! What are they talking about? Are these our rights? Sitting in an awkward posture or going outside? I mean, I want that my husband would just say this to me, Naseema! Stay home. I will earn for you.’ Her eyes overflowed.’ We need respect, Madam! Damn with sitting posture!

Pernia laughed, ‘Their wallets are full and lives are pretty smooth. Such gatherings are a source of thrill for them. Naseema nodded.

After watching the protests on TV, Pernia went off meditate about her own life. In the eyes of the world, she was considered lucky because no one peeps into her heart. Everybody has his parameter to define luck. For Rohma it’s child, for Saleha it’s loyalty and support, for Naseema it’s money, but for her, it’s emotional stability, peace, and love. Society can’t be changed by abusing men or seeking attention by holding weird placards. In-deed evolution in a society comes from one’s own home. If every woman as a mother, raises gentleman and teaches him the basic code of conduct properly then there would be no need to raise silly slogans on the roads.

Yes, I’m a mother too and I have the power to shape the mindset of the generations. I’m a woman who can support other women to the best of my ability. Man belongs to a woman and his remote control is in the hand of the one who introduces him to the world. If it’s utilized in the best of the way then there would be no violence. Not only the sons but also the daughters should be trained in the same way.

That’s what I believe and my responsibility lies with my son, Zoraiz. Her firm voice had a melancholic melody of her own life.

#shortstory #domesticabuse #womenrights #feminism #respect #saynotoviolence