Travelling Down Her Childhood

“ I want to go far away from this place!” winced Isha. A dark brown-eyed girl with her curls edging her shoulder. An aspirant of becoming the greatest physician of all time. Sitting in front of the fluttering lamp, with all her mind dispersed between the air molecules. She was once proud of her hard-working father, the only earning member of her family, who spent 18 hours of his day in a steel plant in Bhilai. His voiceover over the years molded, stouter and harsher. Her mother as Isha thought possessed some magical powers of culinary grope. But was Isha really proud of her? While the entire globe longed for vacations and snooping under the cape of their parents, she longed to stay away. “It is so irritating, I can’t study,” she mumbled. Leaping in through laminated doors, Parkhi, her little sister addressed her with tears of misery. “Hey di, why is it our parents don’t talk to us? Why don’t we dine together around this gallant dining table? Why can’t we stay like all my friend’s family?” The train of questions left Isha terror-bound. Her heart was already pounding till her mouth now. What was she supposed to do as an elder sister? Her little sister just like her, had questions about the tall man with a sleek moustache, spotted hovering around their house in a check t-shirt.

“Was the busy schedule of her partner really a reason for her extramarital affair?” Her voice was dubbed in pain. Isha had no respect left for her mother. No status updates on Mother’s Day, no longing to become a part of her mother’s way. “Can someone really have these multiple attractions? Those letters since she could wire her sense in sequence, the photos on her mobile, even not sparing her relatives.” The haywire thoughts kept boggling her mental peace. From the beginning of her school days till the preparation for the NEET exam, the traumatizing whispers of this lady sitting in one corner talking to her lover left little Isha’s soul abandoned. Her idea of doing wonders was chained by torture and debate. All her aim now was to unleash from this rotten shelter and live with solace.

“But how?” thought she. An idea intruded her baffled mind. “The whorls of meditation could only nurture the dismantled neurons short-circuiting my brain.” She kept nudging with such ideas to rediscover her lost self. She grooved with perfect numbers in the entrance exams and is now a budding psychiatrist unscathed, living her dreams a distance of 1300 kilometers from the emotionless walls of her childhood. Her parents still are churning their lifespans short in their own areas of interest.

Isha learned that a psycho-mental investment is not a thing to be ashamed of, but overcoming childhood restraints with grit is wiser than succumbing to life with a tag of depression on one’s coffin.