I am Faiza, wife of a renowned lawyer, having two teenage daughters. A happy and complete family. An owner of a superb villa in south Delhi. Content and complete in the eyes of everyone. People wanted to emulate me. “Do they consider me a Diva”! Absolutely not, but I have been treated as a woman, who is at her best. I am complimented like “You have everything!”, “Your life is complete”, “Such a loving husband who wishes to do everything for you!” “With what a fate you are born with!”. Yes, I am happy, I am contended, I have everything, and I have the best life but what irks my inner self which had always made me a woman with such a dual personality, a two-faced woman? I am not able to find what it was. Really!

You will not find interest in my story, it has nothing, it is so plain so smooth where my emotions creep in such a manner that I too get entangled in them. Yes, you want some friction in life. Smoothness, calmness such a holy word, usually remarks a saint but I am not. People have categorized me as such, but I am not I am human.

My story starts when I was not married, I am being Faiza Irshad Ali, a class topper, a school captain, and very famous in my friend circle. My classmates considered me as kind of a girl, who is a friend of everyone, with no such envious notion, with no competition, a full over-the-top personality (pardon me, I am praising myself…Oh! Again a saint attitude). My parents were so supportive. I was at my best, after completion of my post-graduation I got a job in MNC, in Bengaluru. I felt like that... my life was a bed of roses but from here everything changed. The change which ruined my emotions, the change which snatched my real self into a horrendous personality which I never wanted to be.

“Faiza, I know it’s not right to say because I have seen you working so hard to get this job” my father words, (I still remember them). “We are middle-class Muslim people, it's not in our society to send our girls to big cities”. It was a bit shocking for me. I was not able to believe that it was my father’s words. He continued “Since you are grown up, we are looking for your marriage”. I couldn’t utter a word because “good girl never questions” and I being a saint, said nothing. This was the first pessimistic thought I encountered with.

My marriage was fixed in a well-to-do family but they were conservative. My Fiancé was well employed. Highly educated, good-looking. For me, he was my hero. He was the first man in my life. Yes! He was my hero. Marriage happened. Entering into a different world was a bit confusing for me. But I was confident that I would be able to face every problem because I am a “good girl”. One day we were sitting on a balcony, drinking our evening coffee I asked my husband “Nabeel, can I look for a job, I really get bored”. The reply was crystal clear and a bit stern, “No, Faiza, I don’t like working girls, I chose you because you were not working.” “How it will affect you Nabeel?” “It will, for sure, you will not be able to give time to my home, please don’t talk on this matter again, this is not possible.” I understood the point. I gave up so easily. I don’t want Nabeel to be upset with me.

But this has affected our enduring relationship. I was not happy somewhere; I was not able to believe that my journey had been standstill but I couldn’t resist. I was not able to say anything to Nabeel. I knew that he was a conservative man. He will never support me. Finally, I dropped the idea as I didn’t want to bring a ruckus in our lives. “It doesn’t matter, a housewife can also live a good life, what if my talent is not being used, I can still set an example of how an educated woman can be a good wife, good mother, and good daughter-in-law”. You can laugh on my thoughts but that day I thought this was right for me. But it wasn’t.

Time passed; I was busy with my family life. Now I have two daughters. One day while I was surfing, I encountered with an advertisement related to content creation for an e-learning website. It was work from a home basis. I was thrilled! “Oh! this is for me, Nabeel will surely not have any problem.” I called out loudly “Nabeel Nabeel”. “What Faiza? What happened?”. I was looking very excited, “You know I can do content writing job, a home basis”. He didn’t respond. I looked at his face, he was staring at me with his big eyes. “Nabeel, this is just a part-time job, it will not affect us”. “If you want money, I will give you, and for that you don’t need to do any job.” I was shocked by his statement.

“Nabeel will pay me, for what?”. He didn’t want me to do the job, he was always nice to me. “He will pay me” “he will pay me”, this thought keeps bouncing in my mind. I felt a little depressed. Something was not right. “He wants to pay what; does he want to pay my services or does he consider me as his caretaker?”. All these thoughts mingled in my brain but my mouth ceased. I was looking at my hero, I was looking at him constantly and was trying to find what even I didn’t know. I don’t know what happened to the ‘Daddy’s Daisy’ the little girl Faiza who had a tremendous personality. My ‘hero’ had shown my ‘worth’. “Good girl knows their worth” but this time I don’t want to be a good girl.

My sacrifices and my selfless love towards the family can’t be paid. This was not my worth. I have given my twenty years to my family; I have never asked for any favors. By choice, I have done everything, I considered it as my duty, it was my love. It can’t be paid. I was hurt, deeply hurt. My attitude towards my family started changing, I was not taking an interest in the daily routine. I started noticing everyone and could easily find that every member wanted me for their work, there was no respect for my work. Days passed I was depressed. One day Nabeel asked, “What happened Faiza, you don’t take an interest in household work”. I wanted to say a lot but I didn’t.

I wanted Nabeel to know how his one statement ruined my twenty years of selfless love. I was not his paid servant. he was a father of my children, he was my companion, he was my love, he was my hero. I knew nothing would change if I told him the truth, he would surely twist his statement. I felt that imitating a “good girl” was not right.

Sometimes you need to speak for yourself. You need to take a first step even if it is considered a “rebel”. You need to come out from the mould of a “good girl obeys his hero”. No man can be your hero, it’s you, only you, "your worth which is a hero”. While sleeping on her side I said “Nabeel, you are not my hero”. Nabeel looked at me, turned around, and went to sleep. He is not even bothered.  

.    .    .