A Turn-off

I guess it all ended with her mother’s wisdom.

This was the second time that her mom had made her realize that she just needed to focus on
activities that helped her earn money, learning about her own individuality was not part of
being an Indian middle class educated woman.
In past too she had pondered and vented about being stuck at her toxic workplace. She knew
her appa would be retiring from his job next year and she needed to earn for her family.
However, her mother loved to remind this cow of a daughter of her responsibilities and her
circumstances.
“Shelly!!! Would you like to eat something for dinner?”, her mother shrieked out. Shelly had
been crying for past one hour in her room. She realised that parents actually did not care
about what they said to their children.
*********
Shelly was a 28-year-old over-ambitious, not so good at anything, literature enthusiast.
She had never wanted to be a school teacher, hated that job because her father was one, and
here she was stuck working at a local school as an English teacher. Though Shelly could
grasp a bit of English Literature, but she knew that she sucked at teaching the language with
forceful accentuation accompanying each word pronounced.
She had led her life based on a code of middle-class honour and morality. Had always made
her parents proud. She was dedicated to the extent that she decided to discard the old code of
morality and began learning tricks to ensnare a boy into believing that beneath her virgin-
cum-spinsterish outlook hid a woman who craved for romance and flesh.
Indian society needs to be given credit for birth of these fractured, multi-tasking, non-
ambitious, lost with the storm, obstinate Indian women.
“One is meant to lose themselves completely in order to rediscover who they are.”
- Indian Society
Shelly!!!
This resistive crying piece of s*** found it difficult to learn that.
*********
After an hour of coaxing her family, especially her mother, for turning her into the money
earning machine, which was her destiny, Shelly felt thirsty and went down to grab a glass of
water. She realised her mother was right. Working on a project initiated by one of her father’s
ex-students was not for her. She was not a business woman and her creativity had rotten at
the moment she was conceived.
She could offer nothing more than her monotonous act of intellectualism to people. Further,
this student of her father too had no money to offer. This was a waste of time and she
concluded that her mother could even save the world from inflation through her timely
advices. Soon Shelly’s attention was diverted by a call from a fellow colleague who asked
Shelly to work on her son’s project. Shelly quickly got to churning out a few ideas, putting to
sleep conflicts that arose within her.
I guess her mother must have guided Shelly that harassment and exploitation at workspace
was fine as it helped her forge bonds. However, investing in opportunities that can result in
self-growth was selfish.
Shelly reminds me of an ATM machine that churns out an amount as soon as a card is
inserted in it.