Last month I turned Eighteen. Quite Sardonic to the society, but some legal freedom for me. Nothing’s changed though. A day before, I wasn’t an adult. But today I am. At least on government papers. No accords really. I have to reach home before 8 anyways. No heels. Barefooted, I run behind the butterflies. Morosely I keep staring at the walls, muttering something to oneself. Something which would change this life. This gloomy life.
I don’t have a boyfriend. Boys have hunted some of my friends already, but I’m not the part of that dreadful herd. I’m afraid that even if I happen to have one, it would add to my dismay. They have their own sine qua nons. With average height and a few pimples over my face, I’ve been rejected already. It might be a trick. One day a boy would finagle me all the way. I have got to keep checks on that too.
I have got be careful about not giving myself away. Coz they might not return.
I haven’t had any parties after the 12th. No get-togethers. Today after being slapped twice, I got the permission.
No gowns or one-piece suit. Just a Salwar kurta. No light colors, for it might reveal something I wouldn’t want to.
With some glossy lipstick and a minute’s primping, I might turn it around. ‘Just stick with your friends, girls?’ That’s what I have been told. A cab or bus won’t do it for today. The person sitting right beside me might stare at my makeup.
Bawdy abuses or filthy comments, and there’d be no one to wipe my tears. In fact, I’d have to bear some more slaps. Noisy arguments and then ending up being locked in the room. The cab driver not intentionally but because of my status, would rape me?
My wounds would take some makeup and I’ll lie to my relatives, for I would have to avoid being the topic of their banter.
Anything can happen. ‘I’ll have to be aware.’ I whispered while walking down the street.
Okay now Goodbye. I have to reach before 8.