If only I had chosen to turn a deaf ear when she said black doesn’t suit a dark skinned person like me, If only I had shrugged my shoulders and worn that black T shirt instead of tossing it away and picking a light coloured one.
If only I had followed my heart to be a writer than study medicine. Become a doctor she said, a noble profession and safe from a future perspective. If only I had not locked away my diary and dreams.
If only I had the courage to tell her that I love a guy, I am gay and why is that a sin? Love knows no boundaries, its not defined by the sex of the person. If only I had refused to marry Sudha and commit a even bigger blunder.
If only I had said something when she asked me to move to the concerete jungle and buy a villa, “a metropolitan city is where life is made my boy” he said, my heart lay in the quiet lanes of the town I grew up in.
As she snatched the flowers from my little boy’s hand, the ones he was so lovingly arranging in the vase, something snapped inside me.
“Stop being a sissy” she screamed “and go play outside like boys”
“Stop it”, it was a voice that came from my heart , one that took 35 years to find courage to be uttered through those lips. There would be no “If only’s” , no regrets of a live not lived for oneself, no dreams brushed under the carpet under the pressure of “sacrifice” made by a parent and how a kid had to be eternally grateful for rest fo their life – he would live a life without being fit into a box that someone made for him.
There would be no “if onlys” in my life too, it was never too late I smiled as I took out my long lost dairy.
This is in response to FictionMondays hosted by Vineetha.