Misplaced relationships

Today’s my wedding anniversary and I am definitely excited. Just how many long years I’ve waited for this day. I saw this date some six years back, well almost… but the day never arrived. Not then.

I have been married for a decade now, atleast that’s what this date implies. If only the wedlock had held true even for ten days. This isn’t any metaphor or wordplay. People I know may hold a grudge that I haven’t been vocal about it. What would I have said and to gain what in turn? Some judgements, negating opinions, more questions and still, no understanding of what I was/am going through. Even today as I am posting this here, there are some who do know some part of the story; yet, I have strong reasons to harbour doubts upon their understanding of the veracity.

Meet the girl who has only been distanced, estranged and abandoned by people. When I say people, I mean very close relationships; perhaps, the only relationships. My father to begin with, then my uncle who was a part of the broken family I grew up in, friends… I wouldn’t add husband to it. Once I earn the decree, he won’t be anymore.

What I’m crying for is not the wasted number of years or abuse of emotions; but again, a loss of a relationship, saving grace- it was never one to be referred to as. Even then; so what?

The first time the case was put up in 2006, I had withdrawn the case the very day the decree was to be awarded. I stood there crying in complete public view of Tis Hazari Courts for over two hours not knowing how to handle the dang situation. It took half a decade before I could muster up some courage and readdress the issue. I feel it’s completely out of point to share how much ill treatment I have been subjected to while in the “relationship” or to even to come out of it. Even after being married I didn’t have the man, never to myself. All I earned out of that relationship was abuses, violence, indifference and loads of shit. Once again, this isn’t any figure of speech. Hours of being beaten up, kicked in the gut and spat over has only made me resilient to physical violence. Four years of knowing a man were not enough to know about him or maybe I don’t know how to at all.

What do I have today?

Father, who I was a daughter to (if not of), for only twelve years before I was estranged by him.

Mother, who I lost to a helpless death; while alive, she fought against her medical condition to bring her daughter up for eighteen years.

A sibling who bled to death till I came aware of the accident and after which mother became a medical mess.

Uncle who threw me out after mother died.

Friends but one, all of others took the most convenient lost touch route.

Soon, my futile attempt of surviving by self began.

A few men tryied to declare themselves as one, and got away with violating my life.

Some people say I am lucky. Thank you.

I mean really. There isn’t a thing that I haven’t tried to push myself off the edge to keep myself stand firm on the practical grounds- yes please, do read in between. I maybe strong; and that also makes me un-apologetically ruthless. I had no time to listen to music, hang-out with friends or even blush. I would look in the eye of anyone seeking a romantic alliance and scream silently but loud enough to tear his insides- don’t you dare mess with me.

The child in me was lost and so was the girl. What remained is porcelain faced dolled up version of a pretty piece that can’t be read by anyone and everyone. Even when crying, I don’t give out the actual reason behind the act or the breakdown. That façade is always up. When pushed, I give out something that is more relevant to the one who is expressing concern; so in future sometime, that conversation might pay back.

When did I become so mechanical?

Why do I keep things to myself?

When will I get to live- if at all i.e.,?

Even through this post, I haven’t given the actual reason why I feel so low right now. If that one person is reading it, he will know.