He was a part of
them, and yet not one of them. He looked like them in appearance but not in the
mind. He appeared to be on their side, and yet always followed his own path. He
was the youngest in the group, yet mature in his thoughts. He was like that as
long as he could remember.
At seven, when other young boys in
the group bathed in the river and played on its banks, he dreamed about sitting
with his mother and listening to her songs. At nine, when other boys in class
got into fist fights, he talked to his sister. At fourteen, when others talked
about girls in deriding manner, he told them stories about brave queens and
goddesses that he had heard from his mother. At eighteen, when other boys
mistreated their wives, he stayed mum about the way he treated his own.
He didn't mistreat his wife. But
neither did he treat her any special in public. He was educated. But not so
much to be able to avoid the social stigma of being called a henpecked husband
surrounded by illiterate people he called society.
Day 3 - Picture prompt
