Last night i went out with my parents and my father’s friends. You see, to be “going out” with my parents and their friends is my constant fate, since i am seperated from all my friends by a lot of distance. Well, anyhow, last night was actually pretty good. Had my first taste of duckmeat, as well as my first taste of alcohol. But this post is not about that. This post is about a lady i saw on the street.
I was in this rather seedy section of the town;one of those markets where you can get anything, right from utensils, to high- end branded shoes, a place frequented by all the strata of society one can possibly imagine. My mother needed to buy a few thinga, so we got into this old shop where they sell typical steel utensils and cookers and so on. In the shop was where i saw this woman. what struck me first about her was not her burqa( that didn’t stand out much, being the standard plain black) but this little pad she had in her hand. She had a tiny white pad in her hand in which she was making notes laboriously as she scrutinised the shelves. Her husband, meanwhile stood with their child in his hands and looked on apathetically. As i got engrossed with the range of cutlery on display, i quite forgot about her until a roundded a bed in one of the lanes the shop was filled with and came face to face with the woman again. This time i saw her face. There was something strange about her face that made me look back at her. After pondering the question for some time, i realized what the matter was. This woman had one of the most interesting faces i had ever seen. Her eyes and her whole expression were that of someone so much younger, someone my age, and yet the wrinkles and scars on her proclaimed her to be my mother’s age, if not more. I stared and stared at her face till i figured it out. The woman was one of those people; people who are contemporary peter pans. She might have grown up, and she might have numerous children, for all i knew, but in her mind she had never grown up. She was still a dewy, fresh teenager, unsullied by the world and its realities. Her marriage and her responsibilities did not change her;she probably sailed through it all while living in Neverland. As I kept looking at the woman, she picked up her child and walked out of the shop, her huband following close behind. I lost her in the crowd. But by then i knew why i had looked at her so long. I envied that woman, and will probably envy her more and more as the world forces me to grow up.