11:04 AM

What would heal me? She’s been wondering all afternoon. Who would know me — this deep, wounded heart?

Once she was freed from her house chores, she sat by the pond to blankly stare into the water. She saw the water making small ripples and glistening under the afternoon sunlight. She marveled at their ability to move in such soft silence. They reminded her of the silk fabric she had seen from the market last week. From a few steps away, she saw the market ajumma proudly presenting the fabric to her other customers. When she put her hands under the fabric, it looked like a beautiful clean white bird. And in that instant moment, she dreamt of hanging it by the window in a small house of her own she wanted to live in one day — a space where no one knew, and where no one could interrupt her perfect little peace. She imagined the cool morning air that would run through the fabric, and a gentle smile she would finally put on — after long, long years of difficult times.

But soon, she was taken back to the real world again. In reality, she did not own any dream house or money to afford the expensive fabric. In reality, she was in a bustling market to fetch cheap white linen cloths, an errand her sister had asked her to run so her baby could have some new clothes. When she brought them home, she had to sit by the baby and help her sister with sewing. She slept late that night; in the morning, the baby came to wake her up.

Perhaps this was why she came to the pond so often — here, no one asked her of anything, and she did not have to offer anything to enjoy what she was enjoying. There was so much freedom in nature that contented her heart. Feeling another cool breeze running through her body, she closed her eyes, hoping to savor one more moment before time ran out. Just one more moment, one more hour, one more day, in this only paradise that was allowed for her . . .