An excerpt from the revised version of A Love Story?
“You whore, I’ll fucking cut your throat right here on the road if you raise your voice one more time.” Those were the words that suddenly captured my attention. Albeit they weren’t supposed to. That was a rather common occurrence in our little locality. After all, I was the only one who paused after listening to them.
As my gaze turned towards the source of those beautiful words, I saw what I’d expected to see.
An overly frail woman in her twenties, with one infant in her arms, another child holding her hand, was standing like the subservient slave she was. To perfectly complement the scene, the infant was crying with sobs that literally echoed.
Her master, the provider, had a face full of disappointment. But that was to be expected. In a country like ours, where patriarchy isn’t an idea, but a religion, that disappointed look was expected. How could a wife ask her husband anything in a market full of people? After all, the thin looking man had a reputation to maintain. The vendors selling the vegetables and fruits, they were supposed to be in awe with the thin looking man. If his wife raised her voice, even if it was to ask a simple question, that awe had a chance to disrupt by the doubts.
When you’re traveling back to your home, after spending the better part of your day stuck in a cubicle, you simply wish to reach your home and lie in your bed. You simply ignore all the nuisances that are part of the life in metropolitan areas.
The cacophonous growl of running vehicles, ear piercing high pitch horn, blindly walking pedestrians, you wish to ignore all of that when you’re traveling back to your home.
But those words were too close to my heart to be ignored.
And just like that, I recalled everything.