Vineetha A. V.
19/PELA/030
I was pretty sure that the biggest change in my life this year would be the onset of the pandemic. I was wrong. I was very sure that being quarantined would be the biggest boulder barring the door to my freedom. But I was wrong. I was absolutely positive that I was an emancipated woman capable of making her own decisions and acting according to her will. Well, I was wrong again. Or rather, I had been proved wrong. A week ago, I had been kidnapped. I had been kidnapped, if not literally, figuratively. I was stuffed into an expensive sack - a red pattusari - and was shackled by stubbornly strong gold ornaments. My manacled feet could barely move with the unnecessarily jeweled anklets weighing down on them and my wrists were encased in circular metal bars. Ironically, my family was well involved in my kidnapping - in fact, they initiated the process and sold me to another family who paid the former in kind while they took me and my parents’ money.
I’m now chained to my bed every night with my legs wide open for a stranger who had been given the victim of this kidnapping, gift-wrapped in expensive fabric and gold. I am his favorite toy. A toy with a fresh red smear on her forehead. And like any other valuable object in the house, I am under constant surveillance. Guards posing as my in-laws march in and out of the house, making sure that I am where I am supposed to be. It goes without saying that I did everything I could to break free from this hellhole. Well, as you can tell, that didn’t work out. So here I am, waiting behind the barred entrance, waiting for someone to help me escape: no, I’m not waiting for a charming prince to whisk me away on his horse, rather, I’m waiting for the stronger, determined and fearless version of me, to come out of her coma and help me fight for justice. This year brought two huge changes to my life and I’m hopefully waiting for the third to arrive at the doorstep so that I can find myself once again.
Great article Vineetha!!