The Homemaker

"I bring food to the table.  What do you do? Sitting at home,  all day long,  what would you know how it is to be in my position?" She listened to his words that reverberated inside of her. She hid a tear as it accidentally escaped from her right eye and brushed it away. She turned around and resumed chopping the vegetables. Yes, she spent the whole day at home, working in a kitchen with poor ventilation and wasted hours dusting the furnitures. She had nothing better to do.

She remembered what her parents said to her the day they fixed their marriage.  "Marry him. He comes from a decent family. He earns a good salary. He will keep you comfortably." "Job? What job? Why would you need a job? Well, your job is to stay at home and look after your family. I can't spend any more money on your education", he said to his 20 year old daughter who had spent her entire childhood reading in a government run school.

She was reduced to the position of a housewife,  a crude, demeaning version of the word 'homemaker'. Unlike proper jobs, she received no salary, she worked throughout the day, kept the needs of her family ahead of hers and never got a vacation either. Of course, that's an awful thing to be in this century. It requires no skills and no degree. There's no glory and there's no pride in it.  How could there be? Her family didn't appreciate her. She was taken for granted. Growing up in a joint family which favoured a son, her needs were always secondary;  her requests flicked away as childish wilms. She got married to the son of a 'modern' family where she faced another sort of hypocrisy. The daughters were encouraged and the wives were pinned down under the weight of responsibilities.
Throughout her life, she had others to make her choices, take her decisions.  She was reduced to a mere puppet, the strings controlled by hands that often changed. "This is your fate. Accept it." "This is your fault. Face it.You never had a strong personality." She looked for a solution; she received preaching. She looked for support, she received nothing.

She wanted her own identity. She longed for individuality. She wanted no one's sympathy. She needed no pity. She wanted to be her own saviour. And today, she became it. She put down the knife, wiped away her tears and turned around. "I have had enough," she thought. It was her turn now.