She sits straight, her lean frame not quite filling the chair. The mirror looks larger than life. A typical woman's dresser this is - a few skin creams, hair brushes and combs neatly sorted into a tall wicker basket, a few exotic bottles of perfume stand proud; Chanel, Christian Dior, Estee Lauder. They look to distract her, those glistening bottles with mystical coloured liquids with aromas which will fill up the room. Today however, they do not catch her eye. She digs into her dresser drawer and pulls out an pouch. Black cowhide leather with a silver zipper and a metal brand logo on the zip hook; The intertwined LV is not unknown - Louis Vuitton. She scrambles through its contents and pulls out a golden tube clearly marked concealer. She dabs on little dots starting under her eyes and moves on to different sections of her face. A few times of dabbing with the make up pad and the skin is clear. A cover layer of foundation - one tone lighter than skin colour they say, and her skin is perfect. A dash of kohl to brighten up her eyes and some bright gloss on her lips. She is now content with her face.
She shuffles through her wardrobe and picks out her straight legged jeans; figure hugging one may add. They feel snug - good choice. A full sleeve black tee makes it way out next. The thought of facing hot Indian summer does cross her mind but no bother. Now dressed to take on the day, she makes her way to the living room where her little daughter is happily munching on her toast, smudges of strawberry jam smeared on her face, fingers and some on the table too. The little one smiles wide revealing a gap in a mouth where there should have been two front teeth. "Look Mamma, she says; I am all dressed today and waiting for you. You are late today". The little one's naughty smile is hard to ignore, "yes baby, Mamma is late... and you are a good girl. Hurry and finish eating; it's time for school." The little one runs into her arms and while she is being lifted, her mamma groans; "what happened mamma" and her mamma smiles and replies "you are becoming a big girl darling, mamma is not strong to carry you". The drive to school was filled with the little one's chatter - from singing to a popular film song to stories about school and friends. She glances from time to time at the little one through the Oakley sunglasses and absentmindedly responds to her questions. Once she is dropped off, her day begins.She heads out to the local super market to pick up ingredients for the day's menu. She looks through the veggies sections hunting for the freshest produce. Chicken for her little one who loves it so much is next on her list. A few other items are dropped into the shopping cart and its off to the cash counter. On her way back as she stops at the signal, she looks at the little children begging on the road and her mind rushes back to her little one. How would that little one manage without her, she wonders and then immediately brushes that thought off. She is uneasy as she drives back, she struggles at every signal to adjust herself in her seat. As she steps of her car, carrying her grocery bags, the scarf stays around her neck and sunglasses on her face. "She thinks she is some celebrity", the neighbours snicker behind her back.
She gets through her day; cleaning her home, getting the meals ready etc. She has help but she wants to do it herself. She needs the distraction she thinks, the mind needs to be occupied. The minutes and hours on the clock seem to be flying by and the little one comes skipping home. The until now silent house is filled with laughter again. The world seems different again, with music and dancing and giggles. She always looks forward to all the time she has with her little one. As the skies grow dark, she feeds her little one and puts her to bed while narrating stories of princes and princesses and happiness in a land far far away.
Her mind's uneasiness begins to surge again. The feeling is not unfamiliar; it is a daily occurrence. The knot in her stomach grows heavier. As she washes the makeup off her face, the marks are visible now. The bruises have changed colour under the layer of makeup and through the day; a tinge of purple now. Smiling hurts her but she had to. As she changes into her night clothes, the burn mark on her right hand from her hand being held under hot water is evident. Tears fill up her eyes as she looks at it and remembers how she struggles to carry her little one. Her back reveals vertical lines, the leather belt has left signs from last night and some nights prior to that. She shudders as her eyes fall on the grandfather clock. It is almost 9 pm. He will be home anytime; she worries, I wonder what his mood will be like; will his eyes be burning with rage like last night.. Will he be drunk like last night when he lashed at me with his belt and then simply passed out on the bed ... I wonder what will irk him today, the items at the dinner table today or the clothes I am wearing or just the look of my face. What ordinary household item will turn into a tool of torture for me ? What about me angers him to a point beyond sensibility where beating me seems like the only option ... I cannot scream else my little one will wake; she does not need to see this. The tears don't stop as she replays every scenario from last night, the bruises never stop hurting, she struggles to breathe. She wants to find a corner to hide but it never helps; she wants it to stop but it never does.
As her mind continues to imagine what fresh hell is going to fall upon her tonight, the door bell rings... he's here !!
She shuffles through her wardrobe and picks out her straight legged jeans; figure hugging one may add. They feel snug - good choice. A full sleeve black tee makes it way out next. The thought of facing hot Indian summer does cross her mind but no bother. Now dressed to take on the day, she makes her way to the living room where her little daughter is happily munching on her toast, smudges of strawberry jam smeared on her face, fingers and some on the table too. The little one smiles wide revealing a gap in a mouth where there should have been two front teeth. "Look Mamma, she says; I am all dressed today and waiting for you. You are late today". The little one's naughty smile is hard to ignore, "yes baby, Mamma is late... and you are a good girl. Hurry and finish eating; it's time for school." The little one runs into her arms and while she is being lifted, her mamma groans; "what happened mamma" and her mamma smiles and replies "you are becoming a big girl darling, mamma is not strong to carry you". The drive to school was filled with the little one's chatter - from singing to a popular film song to stories about school and friends. She glances from time to time at the little one through the Oakley sunglasses and absentmindedly responds to her questions. Once she is dropped off, her day begins.She heads out to the local super market to pick up ingredients for the day's menu. She looks through the veggies sections hunting for the freshest produce. Chicken for her little one who loves it so much is next on her list. A few other items are dropped into the shopping cart and its off to the cash counter. On her way back as she stops at the signal, she looks at the little children begging on the road and her mind rushes back to her little one. How would that little one manage without her, she wonders and then immediately brushes that thought off. She is uneasy as she drives back, she struggles at every signal to adjust herself in her seat. As she steps of her car, carrying her grocery bags, the scarf stays around her neck and sunglasses on her face. "She thinks she is some celebrity", the neighbours snicker behind her back.
She gets through her day; cleaning her home, getting the meals ready etc. She has help but she wants to do it herself. She needs the distraction she thinks, the mind needs to be occupied. The minutes and hours on the clock seem to be flying by and the little one comes skipping home. The until now silent house is filled with laughter again. The world seems different again, with music and dancing and giggles. She always looks forward to all the time she has with her little one. As the skies grow dark, she feeds her little one and puts her to bed while narrating stories of princes and princesses and happiness in a land far far away.
Her mind's uneasiness begins to surge again. The feeling is not unfamiliar; it is a daily occurrence. The knot in her stomach grows heavier. As she washes the makeup off her face, the marks are visible now. The bruises have changed colour under the layer of makeup and through the day; a tinge of purple now. Smiling hurts her but she had to. As she changes into her night clothes, the burn mark on her right hand from her hand being held under hot water is evident. Tears fill up her eyes as she looks at it and remembers how she struggles to carry her little one. Her back reveals vertical lines, the leather belt has left signs from last night and some nights prior to that. She shudders as her eyes fall on the grandfather clock. It is almost 9 pm. He will be home anytime; she worries, I wonder what his mood will be like; will his eyes be burning with rage like last night.. Will he be drunk like last night when he lashed at me with his belt and then simply passed out on the bed ... I wonder what will irk him today, the items at the dinner table today or the clothes I am wearing or just the look of my face. What ordinary household item will turn into a tool of torture for me ? What about me angers him to a point beyond sensibility where beating me seems like the only option ... I cannot scream else my little one will wake; she does not need to see this. The tears don't stop as she replays every scenario from last night, the bruises never stop hurting, she struggles to breathe. She wants to find a corner to hide but it never helps; she wants it to stop but it never does.
As her mind continues to imagine what fresh hell is going to fall upon her tonight, the door bell rings... he's here !!
