Short Story of Teenage Girl – A Way Of Life
Photo credit: anitapeppers from morguefile.com
Walk discreetly, like someone’s closely watching you. Be watchful about your veil, it should cover every bit of the skin you dare to reveal. Care more about what others say, less about your thoughts that you want to share. In fact, you are not to hold opinions, believe what is said, follow, not lead, the instructions given you must heed. Yes. You are given a little space, the space between the kitchen and the veranda of the dining hall. We love you, and that is why you must be the way the rules are prescribed by “us”. “Us,” the individuals who know what is best for you, what your fate holds. “Us”, the people who gave you life, who know for a fact that there can be no better judges, no better deciders for the betterment, for the bright future you hold.
Dear Diary,
Pen & paper are my only source of venting my pent up emotions, my musings of a focused mind, made to shut, to stop, to divert to events that please me the least. I want to write, create, live. Why does no one realise the frustration, the relentless life of persons like me. Crude remarks of my creative mind is what I get to hear, shunned into the four walls of fumes, heat and toil, to create consumables for different pallets, but none for me. Spice. Just a little bit more, a hint of difference, an unexpected change, the thrill, the excitement, the suddenness of transformation. Oh! How I crave for it, a revolution!
Think before you talk Radha, they are people with strict traditional values, so says father. You do have education, I haven’t deprived you of that. Wait. Is it education that is making you behave the way you do? Why are you eager to bring this family humiliation? Ram, the same blood as you, understands better. You better be well behaved or the consequences will be worse.
But, you tell me Dear Diary, why is it that Ram does nothing and still get the credit? Am I not the brilliant one? Am I not the one who brings awe and amusement to the teachers at my school? Am I not the one, many aspire to be? Will I still be the one, some will look up to?
In school, I was taught about others lands. Other places, where there are people of all kinds. They say, there are people who are as white as milk, and some dark as coal; some with hair as red as vermilion, or as bright as gold. My suitors would try to woo them if they did be here where I belong. My father would have to put up a brave fight to market his daughter! But what if it was the other way around! What if I was there…
You are eighteen. I was only fifteen, when your father was smitten by my beauty and culinary skills. You may not be the best in either, but you are average in both and you have taught yourself to read and write. Look beyond the book though my dear daughter, the books that encase your life might be the fall of your rest of the life that you have to share with the man you should here onwards rely on. Parents are only with you till they have to be.
Why cannot I rely on myself then? I came to learn more about the life in a City. I cannot wait to get there. Though it’s with another stranger I would go; but Dear Dairy, don’t you worry, you will be with me. My only source of reliving a life that I wished I had…
My friends say, my mom is so cool. What I say is, Dear Diary, we have are going to have a long relationship…after all as my mother says, writing is the only source to vent out the pent up emotions!
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