Prompt-O-Rama

Worthless (Prompt: Love)

"... the swine is worthless. She doesn't know what love is." This is what Mari had to say when the crowd tore him away from me. "I am leaving for good," he said and that night, he went to live with his mistress.  

"He is right. Look at her remaining rooted like a stone...," I heard the crowd murmur as they dispersed that day. I was guilty of the great crime of smiling when my husband said he was abandoning me. He was a noble man that only wanted to swindle his wife's money and drink at will. I was bleeding and dazed after a flurry of blows that had my head reeling like a wheel going downhill. Not happy.

...

Life seemed good for a while, especially after Muthu came in. The way he walked me back home everyday after work, the way he rode the cycle when I finally agreed to ride pillion and then on the handle bar, and the way he didn't go any farther than kissing me when we had the luxury of privacy at our mill or in the park on the way - he had me floored. I am way too young to forego these small joys of life just because I am a destitute. We did risk going overboard a couple of times, but I kept him at bay. The last thing I wanted was to be a feast for a hundred prying eyes to start with.

That's why it makes no sense to me as to why he screamed, "you are worthless," and stormed out of my house one night never to return. At home, there was none to worry about, or at least so he thought. Maybe I shouldn't have said "wait," and pushed him away when he ran his hands through my blouse, to attend to my sleeping toddler. Maybe I should've fed my son well before cosying up with Muthu. Or, I could simply have let him go on and ignored my son's muffled cries for some time. As it stands, he has left me. I could've lived with his "worthless," remark, but his, "You still think of your husband," accusation made me want to drop dead. 

...

I shouldn't live. I am indeed worthless. My mother called me that sometime back. Someone had seen Muthu make his way out in the dark. And, my mother has an all new story to tell. No daughter should ever be accused of being a whore by her own mother. I was and so I should die. 

...

I don't know why life is so cruel. Just when I opened the bottle of poison, the little one rolled my way and is suckling on my thumb now. I have poison on one hand and life on the other. Death is awake and life is asleep. 

...

I maybe worthless. I may still yield to the small pleasures and be called unsavoury names. But I have to live, for love won't let me die.