Anu’s perfectly arranged facial features gave nothing away, but her eyes bore a glazed faraway look in them as she watched the young boys play cricket.
She envied her son’s their sex and freedom. Their shouts and laughter took her back to the day’s of her childhood; days when she had played with her brothers, free of responsibilities and tiring worry; she had wanted to be a boy.
She recalled days of poking in the dirt to dig out little worms and nights of staring up at the star-studded skies in amazement that stoked her imagination and her inquisitive mind had wanted to know so much, but mother and nan always told her that aspirations of exploration were not for pretty little girls.
They said that pretty little girls grew up to be beautiful, proper, hardworking, obedient and selfless wives to boys from a nice family; pretty little girls bore strong sons to continue the man’s lineage and her questions about love were rebuffed; they said that love would come with the package.
At Seventeen years she had married her family’s handpicked choice of a nice boy from a nice family, bore strong sons and the boring obligation of sexual intimacy, but even after thirteen years of waiting, the kindling spark of love had failed to come with the package; mother and nan had lied to her, Anu still wanted to be an exploring boy and she plotted.
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha