A Short Story — The Choice
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She was from a typically indigent household. Mother worked as a maid in quite a few households. Father was an electrician and worked odd jobs which were becoming more and more scarce with the advent of apps and contractors working with certain people only. The family situation, at its best, was also dire. She had always been an exceptional student. Her grasping abilities and attention to detail helped her excel in anything that she set her mind to. She had recently passed her higher secondary board exam with flying colors.
When it all began…
The time came and her parents started searching for a husband for her. Was she ready? Well, that was never a requirement. At times, even parents feel helpless; succumb to peer pressure. Their financial state played a major catalyst. Finding a suitable match for their daughter was a priority; someone who held a steady job, who would agree to marry her without demanding too much dowry or a big wedding. Even among people living in straitened conditions, these things matter — a lot. The “traditions” have to be followed. Perceptions and opinions of the community hold more importance than an individual’s choice or circumstances.
So, that’s how it was. And eventually, the day came. Through some “distant” but close relative, a suitable match was found. He had a job (a permanent one, his mother said) — worked in a factory of some kind. He worked in a city about a thousand kilometers away from their home town. He did not care to elaborate on what he did; and, of course, nobody from her side dared question him. What if he refused to marry her? — Her parents feared this constantly. And of all the potential grooms, he was the only boy who had not asked for anything and had agreed for a small, intimate ceremony.
And so, one auspicious day, she was married to him in a simple yet ritualistically complete wedding. The very next day, she said her goodbyes to her family, her friends. He promised her parents to take care of her always and to bring her back to visit soon. However, in her heart, she knew that she would not be seeing them again anytime soon or often.
With new hopes and expectations, she set off to a new place with her new and only family. After a really long and uncomfortable train journey, they reached their destination. She was looking forward to seeing her new abode — her home for the rest of her life. With some enthusiasm and some apprehension, she entered the house. It did not take long to take everything in. There was a small room that served as a hall, kitchen, and bedroom. Towards the back, there was a curtain, beyond which a small area was to be used as a bathroom. This was how most of the impoverished class lived — especially in this town. To make ends meet, one could not afford to rent a house any bigger than this.
She made her peace with the new house and incredibly close-set living space. There was no concept of privacy — you could hear everything that went down next door. After a point, she learned how to live with the constant hustle-bustle; how to content herself with this level of privacy. Things were going as well as they could. Little did she know what the future held for her.
A few days later…
Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months and soon she was almost six months into her married life. She had settled into a certain routine by this time. This was when things started changing and unfortunately not for the better. In a recent wave of cost-cutting and automation of factories, her husband lost his job. Less and less labor requirements were left in the market. Companies were moving towards all machine, minimum human setup. As a result, it was becoming even more difficult for him to find a new job. Their financial condition was going from bad to worse — every day. This unfortunate turn of events changed a lot of things. He was a changed man now. Always agitated, easily provoked by the smallest things. He tried to find his solace in drinking at a nearby watering hole.
Alcohol turned him into a different being. While he was nursing his wounds from the failure of not being able to find another job, this aggression and frustration were directed at his wife. He blamed her for everything. Taunted her for not bringing anything from her parents at their wedding. He called her inauspicious and unlucky as he had lost his job after their marriage. It all started like this — with verbal abuse and incessant yelling. As the weeks passed by, he still couldn’t find work, and his anger kept increasing.
The alcohol did not help. Every night he came home completely intoxicated. One such night, he came into the house. It was almost 2 in the morning. He woke her up roughly and started hitting her. Just like that, yelling random things, throwing all the things in the house. She was cowering in the corner praying for him to just exhaust himself and pass out. Eventually, after a half an hour of the outburst, he finally collapsed on the bed and fell asleep. The next day, he woke up as if nothing had happened. He asked her why her face was swollen. When she told him in a meek voice, he claimed he had no recollection of last night. He went about his day as usual — got ready, ate what she cooked and left for another day of job hunting. However, what happened last night became the new routine. Every night, after a disappointing day, he sauntered in, angry at her, frustrated with the world, blaming everyone except himself. Every night was becoming worse than the night before. Every night she cried herself to sleep. She had nowhere to go, no-one to talk to. This city was still an alien world for her. The neighbors kept to themselves. They did not want to “interfere”; hence, they turned a blind eye to anything that was wrong.
And so it went on and on and on. Then came a night that changed everything. That night, things escalated to a level wherein, in his frenzy, he bashed her skull in on the door edge. One of the neighbors was returning from his night shift and saw her in the doorway, her head covered in blood. He woke up his family and they rushed her to the hospital. She was treated immediately in the emergency room and the on-call doctor said that they had to keep her for at least a few days because it was a major head injury. She did not have any money on her. The neighbor who had saved her from bleeding to death lent her some money and paid for the medicines.
She was in the hospital for a week. During this time, her husband did not come to visit her. Not even once. Her neighbor visited her every day before going to work, talked to the doctors about her treatment, took care of all the payments, and brought her food his wife made. Slowly she was recovering from her physical injuries, but her mental state seemed beyond repair. Her neighbor started coaxing her to think about her situation. He had observed her and her husband, and the darkness of their relationship. It was a small neighborhood after all. Nothing was hidden. People simply chose to not see. But it was all out in the open. The abuse, the violence.
He beseeched her to think. To take control. During this one week, she realized that she had to make a decision. “What would people say? What would my parents think? Would they take me back? Where would I go if they don’t? How will I survive?” She realized that the last question was all she had to answer.
In order to survive, she had to break free. It was now or never. Life or death.
And this would be the first time that the choice was hers.
The most courageous act is still to think for yourself. Aloud. — Coco Chanel
A few weeks later…
It was five o’clock in the morning. The sun was just peeping through the horizons. It was summertime and the sunrise was much earlier these days. The crows started cawing even before the first rays. She had slept soundly after a really long time. The usual noises, the chirping of birds, the bickering of neighbors; all the familiar sounds made her smile. She woke up, washed her face and peaked into her parents’ room. They were sound asleep. They finally looked relaxed — after all, they had gotten their daughter back before anything worse could happen. Looking at their peaceful faces, she finally felt at peace herself. The fear was slowly but definitely ebbing away.
Now that she was back, she had so much to do, so much to accomplish. She enrolled in a nursing school. As a child, she had always wanted to learn singing. So she went to learn the basics from a teacher near her home. Financially, the family’s condition was no different from earlier. Hence, she had already decided to work as a housemaid and pay for the nursing school and music classes herself. She was working, studying, taking care of her parents and her home and enjoying every moment of it. Despite working for more than fifteen hours a day, she never felt tired. The taste of freedom made it all worth it. This was her life and nobody could tell her how to live it, make the decisions for her or blame her for their own problems. She had made the choice — of life.
