Enough

On the very night when I was back from my college I heard this ubiquitously strange deafening noise in my neighbor’s apartment. I knew what it was as it was not something new. Every day since countless ages this had been happening. The same ritual was performed ever night. You would be afraid if for some reason, for some cause this story dint happen. I could see him walking with this drunken limp every night to his house dragging himself slowly over the corridor from the lift. And sometimes I would by chance see the fear, in those small eyes every day when she opened the door for her father. Yes he loved her but then he hated his wife, not because she was not working, not helping their family to survive but because she was the one who solely handled all the earnings of the house. He hated her because every night when he was between his dollop of friends he was the only one whose wife earned more than him. He was the only one who had an intelligent daughter and whose intelligence he knew was not his but hers. This could have ended at some nights when he dropped his friends in their home but then finally there was someone who remarked that even the car was being borne by his wife’s EMIs. But rather than working on finding a way out to support his family or to help himself he everyday got drunk and went back to his home, with gloom and the maddening halo over his head, the halo borne by the other drunken bastards about his lifelessness.

We all others basking in our cysts either acted as if such an aberration never existed or we all were led to beliefs in which this was not an aberration at all but a very much intertwined way of living. It was not only the fault of my parents or the society but mine as well. That whenever such turbulences were met with I initially felt anguished, then bad then only sad and then at times ended up just like a tramp. A tramp who carelessly glances over through others windows and enjoys the show but if caught in the act would suddenly feel guilty and move back as if oblivious to the society as a seasoned criminal. The day could have been the same for me and the night too should have been the one embellished by the same moon since ages.

But then for the first time education gave me a high. This one year of college where I met with women achievers, with intellects of the highest cadre, with people who have set right societies and nations sometimes made me think about the resolves I had taken while listening to such people.

For once I dint sleep by turning my televisions voice on, for once I dint pull the headphones out. For once I dint ask my parents for their approval but walked out straight over to their house.

The battle was a long one. And to add to this yes it was a difficult one. It took me a whole lifetime to just do it. I could hear the serene thuds with which my heart was falling. The outer noises seemed to soften out as a bead of perspiration rolled out off my head. 

Finally I emerged as one benevolent king who as if dabbling on his death bed had used all his lifetime’s energy just to do that final thing. With all my might I pressed the calling bell and pressed it hard. The daughter was the one who opened it. The door was opened and I walked back, back to my room.

This was all that I did, ever. After that sometimes such issues have happened but then such these stories have been rare, these aberrations are rare. You know that just a doorbell helps. Knowing that there are people around helps. That’s what I did.

All my life I had waited when it was just a doorbell that could have helped.

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One of the famous and effective campaigns in these areas.Although the ad I found out quite late but then any small thing can help,remember anything can,,,

Everyday thousands of women are facing this so called domestic abuse and the violence involved.
It is high time guys.

~Harsha