Apologies from your imperfect daughter..

You bite your nails furiously... well perhaps just curious or just for the heck of it but yes, you are worried and you can't deny that. Nevertheless, you are showing signs of being tensed. Being a perfectionist, you would've cared about this on any other occasion which was not something like this. You are waiting for the results of your twentieth job interview for the day. You are tired of the endless questions that ask you to explain 'why you want to take up that job' or 'why you want to work for that company'.. but even then, you remind yourself of the promise you made according to which you would go through all the ordeals, through whatever it took, to make your loved ones happy. It said, in loud tones that you had to fight your heart's innate desire of being a true artist which is your inborn talent and go along with your parents' decision i.e. a proper job for you.

"You cannot afford to bring up your kids in future by merely painting on useless canvases! It’s useless and unnecessary. For a girl with convent education and good morals and values, you ought to get a job as soon as you apply for it!!" These were the words your father had used. You had gone ahead with the idea. No arguments. No heated discussions. You had said to yourself that your contradictory arguments wouldn't have helped anyway. You had to do what they said. But now, as you recline on the red leather sofa, you retrospect the evening and think that maybe you should have answered back, maybe you should have told them how it felt. But anyway, you force yourself back into present.. whats gone is gone.. and here you are in the present... stuck with 'convent education' and 'good morals and values' to guide you on your way. You get up; glad to get no answer again. You had waited long enough. Maybe now when you reach home, you can convince them?

But a lady in starched uniform and pointed stilettos comes up, armed with a fake smile and informs you that you have been selected. You return that artificial smile, give her your details and move out of the office. Thereafter, you step out of the office and breathe. It’s not the kind of breath you take just so that the oxygen can reach your lungs and our heart can begin its double circulation. It’s the kind of breath in which you can smell freedom cuddling you in it's arms and gifting you confidence and self respect. You don’t know why, but you suddenly feel happy, since ages! You return home and tell your parents all about your job, your perfect cubicle, the amazing paycheck etc. In short, you behave like the perfect daughter till they go to sleep. Then, noiselessly, you lock your room and collect the weapons you would need. An hour later, in the dead of the night, you move out of the house with your belongings, the money that you've been saving for a situation like this and your precious canvases.

You move into the night, feeling confident of yourself for the first time. You breathe a freedom breath again. Shrugging off the memories, you move on and an owl hoots a slow mournful sound in the distance with you disappearing around the bend.