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THE PERFECT HUSBAND
Mom,
How are you? I hope you are doing well. Mom, when you read this letter your little girl won’t be alive. Please try to survive without me. I am not blaming anyone for my death. I have fizzled to live in this world, Mom.
Please forgive me…
Amal
Pushing ceaselessly the notepad and pen, I took a glass of water and the bottle containing sleeping pills.
My hand trembled when I held the container towards my chest. Tears poured from my eyes. I was heartbroken, scared. I had a lot of anxiety. I was worried.
I emptied the bottle and put the pills on the table. I took five from them and opened my mouth. A thick lump of mass tucked my throat and it blocked my breathing. I wanted to gag. I could hear my heart pounding.
I must calm down to boost up my grit to have this. I set the pills back to the table and pulled out my phone.
I scrolled through Facebook.
I saw my wedding pictures. Apart from the fact that I didn’t know to posture for an image, I was smiling so fully as I found the life that I longed for. It was the most wonderful day of my life.
The same happiness could be pictured on my parents’ faces. They anticipated that their little princess had gotten big and stepped to the other phase of her life.
I was highly delighted to hold my ‘Prince Charming’, my ‘Perfect Husband’.
How did I fail in life and end up in this drastic plight?
From the first years of my wedlock, I learned the exact definition of being a wife. To be earnest, loving, and loyal are not the standard capabilities of an ideal spouse. Besides that, she should shut her eyes towards the heart-wrenching allegations and humiliations.
She didn’t reserve the option to open her mouth against those things she disagreed.
On the off chance, if she spoke more loudly, somewhat higher than the adequate decibel, the question emerges that, ‘Is like this your Mom taught you to behave?’
I was asked to quiet down my mouth and watch my words by my parents in law, to have a tranquil existence with my husband.
At last, a wife can’t claim anything as her life is a fixed deposit, although the interest gets accumulated. Although the account is on her name, she can’t enjoy the returns.
I was born to an educated family, grew up with ample freedom. I was taught not to be obstinate however to be strong to address whatever isn’t right, whoever it be. The main advice given by my Mom was to adjust and adapt to the new environment.
I was prepared to possess my new habitat.
I tried to deal with everything with love.
Yet, I was falling flat.
At whatever point I attempted to patch things and questions, I was beaten the life out of. I suffered the pain and figured that tolerance and love can be the best medication for him to rejuvenate.
I keep on failing. More than the physical pain I got, I was tormented by mental distress.
Being beaten unscrupulously, without the scarcest compassion, made me rebellious.
Starting there, I tried to beg him for the whips, being a rebel. Let his arm get numb.
My health got exacerbated.
Day by day, I thought of new lies to tell my colleagues about the dreadful punches and bitten marks.
Each inch of my body got crushed. I couldn’t move and sleep at night out of pain.
“Why can’t you be able to hear me out? For what reason you need to fight me back? I can’t control my anger, so at least you ought to do it. I have not seen a girl hollering back at her better half. You are discourteous.”
These were the lame statements given by him for torturing me. He can be merciless anytime, however, I was not permitted to cry out my pain. That was my ‘Perfect Husband’.
I always loved my husband. When the marital bunch was tied, I promised God and my parents that I won’t leave him at any circumstance. I will try to be a pillar of support.
I lived in a constant state of alertness and anticipation waiting for the next attack to occur. I sacrificed all my mental joy to be with him. Truly, I was stubborn to admit that I am who is pummeled and who looked so pathetic after.
I didn’t want to go to my house as a divorced daughter. I desperately longed to live with him, dusting and wiping off my tears.
Finally, I ended up with a bottle of sleeping pills that will take me to that world where none of the Mr. Perfects could wake me up.
I was reclaimed from my thoughts by horrific news on Facebook. It was about a ruthless husband who slaughtered his wife by making a snake bite her. He enjoyed all the dowry and gifts given by her parents. To get rid of her, he brutally murdered her, witnessed and enjoyed every bit of her death.
Even though I was stunned by the news, there stir a few thoughts in my brain. For what reason did he kill her? To evade his mentally challenged wife, he needed to give back her wealth. He tallied the value of money with a human being’s life.
So a girl’s, a wife’s, and a mother’s life is just the value of the silver coin or paper notes that is meaningless till we value it.
Is it right to say that we are conceived for that? Are we destined to torn apart when we are not needed?
We, human beings are born to make changes. An ordinary woman who stands strongly for life, for existence can’t be doomed into the so-called feminist group.
I need to be a proud woman who can change all the other living beings, from the beginning of her birth.
Should I take these pills? Should I toss my precious life for mere domestic violence? Should I be a lifetime hurt to my parents?
I closed my eyes and took a blind leap. I knew I had to get out of here. I felt weak and I had no idea how I was going to come up with the strength.
After a couple of minutes, I opened my eyes and it hooked on an intellectual Facebook post that read:
“DIVORCED DAUGHTERS ARE BETTER THAN DEAD DAUGHTERS!!”
I threw the pills and tore the note I wrote. Took another and composed:
Aadhi,
Leaving you is better than being a dead wife…
I am leaving to slow down my racing heart and to soothe my mind. I will come back with a well-laid plan, that can help both of us to come out of this abusive relationship…
Think twice and give me a call if you are prepared…
Amal
One week later…
I got a message from Aadhi that read:
“Amal tell me your plan…”
—-END—-
(I leave this plan or decision to be taken by Amal, who portrayed the entire society, to the readers. An appropriate decision can save the lives of our women from death either by self-destruction or manslaughter…)
@ALMAG2709
#marriage #husbandandwife #suicide #divorce #murder
How are you? I hope you are doing well. Mom, when you read this letter your little girl won’t be alive. Please try to survive without me. I am not blaming anyone for my death. I have fizzled to live in this world, Mom.
Please forgive me…
Amal
Pushing ceaselessly the notepad and pen, I took a glass of water and the bottle containing sleeping pills.
My hand trembled when I held the container towards my chest. Tears poured from my eyes. I was heartbroken, scared. I had a lot of anxiety. I was worried.
I emptied the bottle and put the pills on the table. I took five from them and opened my mouth. A thick lump of mass tucked my throat and it blocked my breathing. I wanted to gag. I could hear my heart pounding.
I must calm down to boost up my grit to have this. I set the pills back to the table and pulled out my phone.
I scrolled through Facebook.
I saw my wedding pictures. Apart from the fact that I didn’t know to posture for an image, I was smiling so fully as I found the life that I longed for. It was the most wonderful day of my life.
The same happiness could be pictured on my parents’ faces. They anticipated that their little princess had gotten big and stepped to the other phase of her life.
I was highly delighted to hold my ‘Prince Charming’, my ‘Perfect Husband’.
How did I fail in life and end up in this drastic plight?
From the first years of my wedlock, I learned the exact definition of being a wife. To be earnest, loving, and loyal are not the standard capabilities of an ideal spouse. Besides that, she should shut her eyes towards the heart-wrenching allegations and humiliations.
She didn’t reserve the option to open her mouth against those things she disagreed.
On the off chance, if she spoke more loudly, somewhat higher than the adequate decibel, the question emerges that, ‘Is like this your Mom taught you to behave?’
I was asked to quiet down my mouth and watch my words by my parents in law, to have a tranquil existence with my husband.
At last, a wife can’t claim anything as her life is a fixed deposit, although the interest gets accumulated. Although the account is on her name, she can’t enjoy the returns.
I was born to an educated family, grew up with ample freedom. I was taught not to be obstinate however to be strong to address whatever isn’t right, whoever it be. The main advice given by my Mom was to adjust and adapt to the new environment.
I was prepared to possess my new habitat.
I tried to deal with everything with love.
Yet, I was falling flat.
At whatever point I attempted to patch things and questions, I was beaten the life out of. I suffered the pain and figured that tolerance and love can be the best medication for him to rejuvenate.
I keep on failing. More than the physical pain I got, I was tormented by mental distress.
Being beaten unscrupulously, without the scarcest compassion, made me rebellious.
Starting there, I tried to beg him for the whips, being a rebel. Let his arm get numb.
My health got exacerbated.
Day by day, I thought of new lies to tell my colleagues about the dreadful punches and bitten marks.
Each inch of my body got crushed. I couldn’t move and sleep at night out of pain.
“Why can’t you be able to hear me out? For what reason you need to fight me back? I can’t control my anger, so at least you ought to do it. I have not seen a girl hollering back at her better half. You are discourteous.”
These were the lame statements given by him for torturing me. He can be merciless anytime, however, I was not permitted to cry out my pain. That was my ‘Perfect Husband’.
I always loved my husband. When the marital bunch was tied, I promised God and my parents that I won’t leave him at any circumstance. I will try to be a pillar of support.
I lived in a constant state of alertness and anticipation waiting for the next attack to occur. I sacrificed all my mental joy to be with him. Truly, I was stubborn to admit that I am who is pummeled and who looked so pathetic after.
I didn’t want to go to my house as a divorced daughter. I desperately longed to live with him, dusting and wiping off my tears.
Finally, I ended up with a bottle of sleeping pills that will take me to that world where none of the Mr. Perfects could wake me up.
I was reclaimed from my thoughts by horrific news on Facebook. It was about a ruthless husband who slaughtered his wife by making a snake bite her. He enjoyed all the dowry and gifts given by her parents. To get rid of her, he brutally murdered her, witnessed and enjoyed every bit of her death.
Even though I was stunned by the news, there stir a few thoughts in my brain. For what reason did he kill her? To evade his mentally challenged wife, he needed to give back her wealth. He tallied the value of money with a human being’s life.
So a girl’s, a wife’s, and a mother’s life is just the value of the silver coin or paper notes that is meaningless till we value it.
Is it right to say that we are conceived for that? Are we destined to torn apart when we are not needed?
We, human beings are born to make changes. An ordinary woman who stands strongly for life, for existence can’t be doomed into the so-called feminist group.
I need to be a proud woman who can change all the other living beings, from the beginning of her birth.
Should I take these pills? Should I toss my precious life for mere domestic violence? Should I be a lifetime hurt to my parents?
I closed my eyes and took a blind leap. I knew I had to get out of here. I felt weak and I had no idea how I was going to come up with the strength.
After a couple of minutes, I opened my eyes and it hooked on an intellectual Facebook post that read:
“DIVORCED DAUGHTERS ARE BETTER THAN DEAD DAUGHTERS!!”
I threw the pills and tore the note I wrote. Took another and composed:
Aadhi,
Leaving you is better than being a dead wife…
I am leaving to slow down my racing heart and to soothe my mind. I will come back with a well-laid plan, that can help both of us to come out of this abusive relationship…
Think twice and give me a call if you are prepared…
Amal
One week later…
I got a message from Aadhi that read:
“Amal tell me your plan…”
—-END—-
(I leave this plan or decision to be taken by Amal, who portrayed the entire society, to the readers. An appropriate decision can save the lives of our women from death either by self-destruction or manslaughter…)
@ALMAG2709
#marriage #husbandandwife #suicide #divorce #murder
