The harsh, cold, sardonic laugh rings in her head, again. The same pain they once inflicted upon her soul. The same mocking smile lingering on their lips. She clutches those memories to her bosom. Bereft of hope and dignity. She’s a prisoner of her own soul. A promise once made in the heat of the day, can not be broken in the cold of the night. Words once spoken under the scorching sun, come back to mock you in the serene moon light. She looks around, gasping for breath, the walls around closing in and gradually her illusions take the form of reality. Her vision comes into focus and she screams at the top of her voice;
Let there be someone?
Let there be someone?
Let there be someone!
She looks at her reflection in the lake below. Astounded, she finds herself sleeping in a cocoon, weaving dreams into reality. She was meant to be a butterfly. They told her so, but there was something amiss. Something, that made people wonder at the sadness behind her smile. She knew, she would never find her wings to take her home. The realization had dawned upon her; she lost herself among the crowd that day. Amidst the cheers and hurrah’s, the blow of horns and the sound of drums. She danced to it all, danced to the tune of her demise. Don’t you remember?
Diary of a Desi Wife 