Culture vs Self

He was just 18 when his father pointed a gun at his left temper. He tried to escape a few times but he just knew that this was his last. It was fate and fate determined that he should surrender himself. Surrender was the only option he had at gun point, unless he wanted to feel the bullet going through his brain, blasting off every neuron and dignity he had. That wouldn't be ideal for him coz that's the last organ he would've given up like how he admired Maths.

He was a Maths genius in a rotten small school in the village. He was thinking big. Like becoming a professor teaching Maths at the most prestigious school in the states. Alas, this was fate. He didn't want to be like Abu, the boy next door who toiled everyday at work but earned a meagre salary. He didn't want to be like Sylvester, sitting home at the age of 25, doing nothing but waiting to be fed by both parents. He wanted to be someone, someone he believed he could be one day, that no one in the village dared to dream of.

Everything was gone now at gun point. He had to listen and give in. Give up hope and give in to destiny. A week later, he became a husband, a position he was reluctant to hold. But culture forced him to get married at such a tender age to satisfy his father's ego as well as the others. The following year, his wife bore a child. Boy, and everyone was so glad. He worked like others, tapping the rubber trees before dawn and working on his father's field right after that.

Time slowly tamed his feelings and soon he realized he was just as ordinary as others. So, he was a husband, a father as well as a son. A year later, the wife got pregnant again. She was so weak but the father in law insisted that she should be grateful to be pregnant and there was no way of going against the culture, not even to think bout family planning. She should be pregnant till she couldn't and that would be decided by her menses.

So, this time was a girl. She went through a whole lot of distress, even the baby was meconium-stained this time. News went around the village. Meconium-stained??!! That's an omen! Thou shall not raise the meconium stained child should the child came from thy womb. So said the chief of the village. She was despair. He was despair. But none shared their predicament. Nine months in the womb, and the baby should call you aunty? Nine months of intimacy, and the baby should share a bed with a stranger now.

At first, he gave up his dream, now he had to give up his baby. That's culture. That's the law coming out from an uneducated society. Who to blame. To blame on fate that brought him to this society, or blame him for not standing by himself? You judge.

I saw despair soaking in her tears as they shying away at the angle of both her eyes. I saw his dream melted as it came out choking from his mouth. I was speechless. I could only offer silence. There we were, three of us. Looking at each other, I offered sympathy. Despair got to halt somewhere coz life goes on. So both stood up. Waving to bid farewell and slowly walked out of the office.

Closing the eyes, I swallowed the thickest phlegm behind the throat...

Dan G

Commercial zone:

Looks good or not? That's dinner for tonite. Dan G special ala risata ( fresh tomatoes, garlics, added spinach on a bread) with saute brinjal. Whitney missed this menu that I mentioned coz I was so busy with courses. The saute brinjal (or substituted with eggplant) is my favourite. Having them for the past 3 days, believe it!

Hooray... fuel price gone down by another 10 cents!