Caged, confined and cornered, a prisoner in her own house.
House, not home for had it been the latter she would be calling the shots.
Silent weepings, hushed voices, eyes gazing to the floor- facade of prim and proper.
‘Her’ life, belonging to each but none to her, lost in the cacophony of malice and male.
Lost amidst the labyrinth of ‘do nots’ , she must keep her quiet for she is the honor of the family.
She mourns her past twenty three years of existence and mourns for all that she lost and sacrificed.
But not today,
Twenty three years of hard labor, the fruit – her first paycheck.
Eyes brimming with tears, she hands the cheque to her amma.
Fly away pisho, she tells with pride in her eyes, you have finally earned your freedom.