Umbilical Lores

When was the last time I was in a moment of bliss, sheer lack of conflicting emotions? When was the last time that watching children kick a soccer ball in little spaces they find room in..cursing in new found abuses and hand gestures, didn't fill me with a sense of solemness?
When was the last time that I didn't feel jealous of a dog sleeping in a little basket..looking calm and sedated with bliss despite being chained down by his "owners"?
I cannot get myself to eat the orange lying in a basket filled with its companions just a foot away from me.
There was time. A time when nothing mattered. But that time, was a time when I was lost in sleep.. because really, such a time has never existed.

Someone just rang the door bell, and I cursed under stale breath, hating the task that now lay ahead. A pretentious smile. A welcome that I don't mean. And superficial conversations over exaggerated interest shown by me. I am an actor. And While I love it. I hate myself.
I get up from the table breathing a deep loathing sigh, only to realise that it is that child. Ringing the bell in jest. That child of mine. And I am filled with loath for her. And then, I am filled with filth for myself.
She's smiling, a smile that in all of conditional society is meant to bring a smile to the face of a mother. But not I. I cringe, narrow my eyes in disgust, my nose wrinkles and I spit some hate at her. ... Joy I feel at the power that I have over her emotions. A secret joy that gives me a rush each time. Only to die out a few moments later. I am too used o this now. And so is she. I don't bother with an apology anymore.

The child fills me with hate. And I wonder what I did to have this creep as mine. Looks just like her father. Behaves just like him. And at the age of eleven, I can think of nothing else but to abandon her. I don't want her. Not for a second longer.

I curse my fate for the choices that I made.

I haven't cooked. I don't like to cook. It's been three days since the two of us have been eating out. Some fried rice and Manchurian from the cart at night. I don't remember what for breakfast and the meal after.

Mea culpa..mea culpa...
****

My heart is beats against my chest. My hands are trembling... That little bitch got what she deserves. Competing with me! She wants my saree, my bindi, tomorrow she'll want my man. Salee

I don't care if the bag is unsettled, I am done with her. I don't want her... I've never wanted her! Eleven years is enough.. she'll manage herself.. she'll survive.. a woman after all.. there's lots she can do with herself. Mata Rani, be with me, guide me! Help me leave this wretch.

This time her begging me not to leave won't help. Her constant pleas and sleazy hugs! Every time I give her opportunity to prove to me that she is not her father! But dirty blood, will remain just that!

Child, this is it. I am done with you. I gave up my life for you. I sacrificed all for you. I don't know why I had you. Stop your weeping. I am done. There is enough here for you. enjoy your life and other escapades you'll soon have. You'll be fine. You have yourself. I lived with filth for thirteen years. First your father, and then his swine. I'll kick you off again if you come near. I'm done.

****
The house a mess, the girl a pain. Just because I am a mother, doesn't mean I am nobody. ... When was the last time I was in a moment of bliss, sheer lack of conflicting emotions?
Hopefully I will again.