A Short Story — The Choice. ___
By: Devika Mehta
Tags: Courage, Short Story, Life Lessons, Self, Choices

With new hopes and expectations, she set off to a new place with her new and only family. After a really long and uncomfortable train journey, they reached their destination. She was looking forward to seeing her new abode — her home for the rest of her life. With some enthusiasm and some apprehension, she entered the house. It did not take long to take everything in. There was a small room that served as a hall, kitchen, and bedroom. Towards the back, there was a curtain, beyond which a small area was to be used as a bathroom. This was how most of the impoverished class lived — especially in this town. To make ends meet, one could not afford to rent a house any bigger than this.

She made her peace with the new house and incredibly close-set living space. There was no concept of privacy — you could hear everything that went down next door. After a point, she learned how to live with the constant hustle-bustle; how to content herself with this level of privacy. Things were going as well as they could. Little did she know what the future held for her.

A few days later…

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months and soon she was almost six months into her married life. She had settled into a certain routine by this time. This was when things started changing and unfortunately not for the better. In a recent wave of cost-cutting and automation of factories, her husband lost his job. Less and less labor requirements were left in the market. Companies were moving towards all machine, minimum human setup. As a result, it was becoming even more difficult for him to find a new job. Their financial condition was going from bad to worse — every day. This unfortunate turn of events changed a lot of things. He was a changed man now. Always agitated, easily provoked by the smallest things. He tried to find his solace in drinking at a nearby watering hole.

Alcohol turned him into a different being. While he was nursing his wounds from the failure of not being able to find another job, this aggression and frustration were directed at his wife. He blamed her for everything. Taunted her for not bringing anything from her parents at their wedding. He called her inauspicious and unlucky as he had lost his job after their marriage. It all started like this — with verbal abuse and incessant yelling. As the weeks passed by, he still couldn’t find work, and his anger kept increasing.

The alcohol did not help. Every night he came home completely intoxicated. One such night, he came into the house. It was almost 2 in the morning. He woke her up roughly and started hitting her. Just like that, yelling random things, throwing all the things in the house. She was cowering in the corner praying for him to just exhaust himself and pass out. Eventually, after a half an hour of the outburst, he finally collapsed on the bed and fell asleep. The next day, he woke up as if nothing had happened. He asked her why her face was swollen. When she told him in a meek voice, he claimed he had no recollection of last night. He went about his day as usual — got ready, ate what she cooked and left for another day of job hunting. However, what happened last night became the new routine. Every night, after a disappointing day, he sauntered in, angry at her, frustrated with the world, blaming everyone except himself. Every night was becoming worse than the night before. Every night she cried herself to sleep. She had nowhere to go, no-one to talk to. This city was still an alien world for her. The neighbors kept to themselves. They did not want to “interfere”; hence, they turned a blind eye to anything that was wrong.

And so it went on and on and on. Then came a night that changed everything. That night, things escalated to a level wherein, in his frenzy, he bashed her skull in on the door edge. One of the neighbors was returning from his night shift and saw her in the doorway, her head covered in blood. He woke up his family and they rushed her to the hospital. She was treated immediately in the emergency room and the on-call doctor said that they had to keep her for at least a few days because it was a major head injury. She did not have any money on her. The neighbor who had saved her from bleeding to death lent her some money and paid for the medicines.

She was in the hospital for a week. During this time, her husband did not come to visit her. Not even once. Her neighbor visited her every day before going to work, talked to the doctors about her treatment, took care of all the payments, and brought her food his wife made. Slowly she was recovering from her physical injuries, but her mental state seemed beyond repair. Her neighbor started coaxing her to think about her situation. He had observed her and her husband, and the darkness of their relationship. It was a small neighborhood after all. Nothing was hidden. People simply chose to not see. But it was all out in the open. The abuse, the violence.

He beseeched her to think. To take control. During this one week, she realized that she had to make a decision. “What would people say? What would my parents think? Would they take me back? Where would I go if they don’t? How will I survive?” She realized that the last question was all she had to answer.