The day I stepped into the house of my husband- was the last one. I was only a tender quarter of a century old and still learnt much in the next two years. The marriage was a contract, a small price to pay to give my responsibility to someone who will provide for me till the end of my days. But his hands did venture on me gleefully, they did clutch me close but only when I did not want it. His smell repulsed me and so did his actions. Each day he took me. Each day he ravaged my flesh. He, it was all about him always. His pleasure, his needs, his life. I was sidelined in the corner of my own house. My respect ‘was’ and his words were laws. My voice was muted and his actions said more than my wailing. What I want is not attention, just acceptance. And so one day I made up my mind. When he returned hitting on girls at his office I sat down with him and told him how I feel about our marriage, for now it has gone from rough life to a meager existence. Where we do not have any emotions whatsoever and are just fulfilling the needs of one another. I told him how he does not care for my desires and thoughts, about he treats me like a lump of flesh, an instrument to please himself. That day my tears dropped to the ground and water the white marble which was to become a fate of mine. His eyes were bloodshot and his arms shook . His lips quivered and then when I expected to hear an apology, I heard what I cannot put down in words. He called me things which not only derogated my character but also my family. I was only an object who were to abide to his whims, to him. The conclusion to my sorrow was that I could not adapt to his lifestyle. HIS LIFESTYLE! That day was the last time I tried to raise my voice, raise my right of half of the household. That day I was taken once again by him, unwanted and against my consent. The consummation of his marriage was frequent arbitrary. But after that sinful night, I got the best news of my life. The joy of my soul came to be uplifted above the dampened house and up above. That day I could not hold my excitement. I had a step in my step.
His slap connected with my face, and on contact I fell on the same spot where my tears had fallen on the white marble. And this time the hand on my face was not my husband’s it was my son’s who had now become a clone of his father.