Choice

She felt mortified, totally mortified. She could feel the eyes of the crowd on her back. Some sympathetic, some pitiful, some disgusted, some mocking. A few of them did an audible 'tch tch' full of pity and others murmured in excitement of getting a new topic for gossip.

She shook her husband who rumbled dully. His words came indistinct and the stench of alcohol almost made her throw up. Some of the mud on his clothes strained her Saree.

Through the corner of an eye, she saw her superior from the office eyeing her in a mild surprise. She straightened her purse and gave him an embarrassed smile.

"Husband?" he asked curiously.
"Hm."

If only one could die of embarrassment...

With all the might she had, she pulled her husband to his feet. He stumbled and started pushing her away. For a moment she felt a surge of anger so terrible that she wanted to throw him back on the ground. She called for an auto, forced her protesting husband in and left, watching the crowd spread off.

She was done crying long ago. This wasn't new to her anymore. Every other day her alcoholic husband would disappear and she would search for him once she was back from office.

She worked endlessly. Office work and a small catering business she ran from her house to add to her modest income to make the ends meet. With every hundred rupees note she earned and hid under the bed, inside the folds of the old clothes and back of the stove to keep it safe from her husband, she worried a little less about that month's school-fees of her daughter she had sent to another town.

No time to cry or regret. No time to tend her sore back. No time to stop and rest. No time to feel complacent when she realised her small business grew bigger day by day. No time to notice neighbours' looks of pity turning into those of envy.

While the actresses in her nation made creative videos to define feminism by the freedom to wear the clothes a woman wants and to have sex by woman's own choice, she always told her daughter that the simple women like herself have a little choices and many compromises.

She felt very proud when her daughter said, "Who says you are simple, Mother! You are my role model!"

- Based on a true story of a simply extraordinary woman I happened to hear from recently.