“Your husband is evil, he is poisoning your body and mind”,
her mother told her. She listened to her go on and on, ranting about all the
evil things he did to her daughter. Her silence seemed to implore her mother to
carry on, as if she gave her mother the permission to do this by not speaking.
Her mother’s words resonated with her. Late that night, she
opened her diary, the solitary thing that had earned her trust in the recent
past. Writing an entry in the diary was like salvation for her – it gave her
silence a voice, her thoughtlessness a thought and her monochromaticity a hue. Of
late, an entry in the diary for her was the equivalent of a child wailing his
throat off out of frustration, it was as much a relieving force as an exercise
in futility. All the memories came rushing to her mind like a flood, the pain
he caused in her life, the feeling of being used and the belated realization
that marrying her was only a way for him in his quest for professional glory in
her father’s company where he worked. As her pen moved from one line to the
next, she was wiping off the tears that streamed down from her eyes in a
constant torrent. Every part of her body was shaking, and the tears was a way
for her body to physically discharge the negative energy bundled up within her
as much as the diary writing provided the same for her aggrieved mind.
She wished she had a chance to rewind the clock and start
over again. To undo the mistakes in life that she committed when she was
blinded in her devotion to her husband. To ease the pain she caused her mother
when she decided to spend her life with him. And a ton of other things.
Travelling back in time was not an option, the only way in front of her was to
face it shoulders up and move forward.
She closed her diary, opened the drawer and tucked it in.
Then, her eyes went to the sheaf of papers on the table that were fluttering in
the light wind coming in through the window in her bedroom. She didn’t need to
read them anymore, she could recite verbatim the contents of that bundle of
papers that came in as a registered post to her home a little over two weeks
ago. With a sigh, she pushed the sheaf of papers closed to her, flipped to the
last page and signed under where her name was indicated.
She closed her pen, switched off the night lamp. And it is
when the darkness that surrounded her, she felt to open the Bible on her desk
and read a bit. She turned the night lamp back on, got her Bible. And randomly
opened a page. And she read aloud what she saw, “And ye shall know the truth
and truth shall set you free.”
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