“Oh my God! I wish someone would tell them to behave. There are neighbours who have kids. Such discomfort they create for everyone every other day. You noticed Jian asking questions every day about these noises now. Such a mess… so uncivilised and unsophisticated these people are. I couldn’t even believe it. And amazingly, they don’t seem so. Guttermouths… and especially the female. How can a female use such dirty, abusive words? I can’t even imagine any of those words coming from you or any female around me. Anyway, what else can we do other than praying that they leave this house as soon as possible? Oh yes… I can do one thing: I can ask the owner to ask them to see a house for rent somewhere else; yes, that can be a help. I will do it tomorrow morning only.”
“You never respond with a single word whenever I talk about it. Doesn’t it affect you? Or maybe you don’t even want to talk to me.”
“Hmmmm… no, it’s not so. It’s just…”
“Anyway, it’s already very late. Let’s sleep. Good night.”
He kisses his son and goes to sleep. She feels a grin rising on her face. Thinking… as if he can even give her space to speak.
⁂
Her day starts in the kitchen… boiling a glass of water for herself, thinking about what to cook for breakfast and lunch boxes.
He wakes up asking for coffee. Coming to the kitchen, he tells her about his plans for the day and then leaves her there alone, gets ready and leaves for his office. She gets Jian ready and, on her way to the office, drops him off at school.
She is lost in her thoughts the whole day… how can a female shout at her partner the way her neighbour does? Are all those females wrong whom I have seen succumbing to the males in their lives? And what about all the advice to adjust and be quiet to make a family work, coming either from a male or a female? What is the right way to live a life as a woman?
“Mumma, why are you late to pick me up?” he shouts.
“I was…”
“Ok let it be; just drop me at my cricket ground and don’t waste time talking, else I will be late”, he commands.
What is the right way to live a life as a woman?
She dropped the keys on the side table and started decluttering the home. The doorbell rang… Mr. Ahuja, the owner of the adjacent flat was there. Just after him came her husband.
“Natasha, prepare some good tea for us.”
Both of them exchange some casual words, and Fahad starts talking about the tenants in the nearby flat. He told Mr. Ahuja how his tenants are fighting with each other every single day. How his son is being affected by that.
“They are uncivilised adults. They fight all day and night. I don’t even know how they are affording to live here; I don’t believe if they work somewhere. They are spoilt. And especially the woman. She abuses her husband with words you can’t even imagine. Every day, such noises come as if one of them will kill the other one. You can even ask the guards; every night they fight and then leave the flat, coming back after some hours, and then they play the loudest music till two or three in the morning to not let anyone sleep in the whole tower. We have been suffering all this for almost three weeks. Please do something if it can be done. It will be a great help.”
Natasha comes to offer the tea. “I was saying…”
“You please go, yaar. I am talking about something very serious about the tenants with Mr Ahuja. We will sort it. You please go and prepare the dinner.”
“But I am saying”
“I told you to go”, he shouted.
She left.
“See, Mr Fahad, I can understand your concern, but I can’t do anything about it, as they bought the flat from me last month. Now they are the owners of the flat, and I can’t ask them to leave. You can complain about it to the committee if they can be of help.” And he left.
“Greetings, sir”, the guard said.
“Will you complain about the couple living in 104 with me?” he asked the guard.
“How can I complain, sir? We are here to serve you all. We can’t complain.”
“You…” he was about to abuse the guard when Jian called him to have dinner.
At the dinner table, he took a bite and threw the plate, complaining about the excessive salt in the meal. He choked Natasha noiselessly… she cried noiselessly… Jian saw all that noiselessly… and, complaining about the noises coming from the adjacent flat, he went to sleep.
Tonight, after a long break, Natasha sat to write something, and then she wrote the subsequent poem, dedicating it to her son:
When you hear shouts and screams coming out of a house.
Remember that the noise is the noise of She speaking for herself.
The noise is the noise of She standing for herself.
She… who was taught to please people.
She… who was taught to speak in a low pitch.
She… who was taught to quietly cry in corners.
She… who was taught to ignore others’ mistakes.
She… who was taught to stop overthinking.
She… who was taught to have a good bond with family members.
She… who was taught to be quiet if someone disheartens her.
She… who was taught to have a presentable smile on her face.
She… who was taught that she cannot survive alone.
She… who was taught to take responsibility for keeping the home and food ready for everyone.
She… who was never taught to make herself happy.
She… who was never taught that she would need to build a home for herself.
She… who was never taught to keep friends over family.
She… who was never told that others cannot survive without her.
She… who was never taught to ask questions.
She… who was never taught to prioritize her health, her mental state, and her career.
She… who was never taught to un-love someone who doesn’t deserve it.
She… who was never taught to embrace her emotions.
She… who was applauded for her sacrifices to make others happy.
She is speaking aloud for herself.
Don’t let her loudly bold self be ashamed of their existence.
Let’s celebrate the blooming soul.
Let’s celebrate her.