Anjali, a loving housewife. Her life was woven around her husband, Vikram, and their two children – ten-year-old Arya and seven-year-old Aarshav. In the rush of city life, Anjali's own existence was confined by the clock, where pausing for herself was merely a dream. Deep within her heart, lay suppressed the aspiration of becoming a painter and the fragrance of poetry.
The Beginning of the Story
Anjali and Vikram lived in an apartment in the heart of the city. It was beautiful, but surrounded by crowds. From their kitchen window, a small, square patch of the sky was visible. But for the last few months, a massive building was under construction in the plot across the road.
One evening, Anjali was making tea. She looked out the window. The laborers had poured the final slab of concrete. Now, even the small piece of the sky visible from the window was being cut off. Only a thin, long sliver remained.
The teacup slowly slipped from Anjali's hand onto the saucer. A deep, inexplicable sadness washed over her face. This was the same sky where she would quietly let her mind wander every morning and evening.
Her lips trembled softly: "Even my sky has been snatched away... now it's just walls and walls."
That night, after dinner, Vikram was relaxing on the sofa and the children were finishing their homework. Anjali came and sat down silently beside him. Vikram immediately caught the sadness on her face.
Vikram: "What's wrong, Anjali? You are very quiet today. Are you feeling well?"
Anjali slowly shook her head. "No, I am fine... it's just that the view of the sky from the window has disappeared today."
Vikram chuckled slightly. "What's the big deal? If a building is being constructed opposite, the view is bound to be blocked. Now only walls will be visible."
Vikram's comment felt utterly dismissive to Anjali. Her throat tightened.
Anjali (in a low, yet firm voice): "For you, it's just a wall, Vikram. But for me, that sky... that was my window. My window to solitude, to my unfulfilled dreams..."
Vikram suddenly became serious. "Dreams? What kind of dreams?"
Anjali (with tears in her eyes): "Do you remember? How much I loved painting? Where is that brush now? It’s gathering dust in that old cupboard. Every morning starts with 'Vikram's tea, Arya's milk, Aarshav's breakfast'. I do everything happily, but sometimes it feels like everything is present in this house... except 'Anjali'."
She stood up and went to the window, where only a cement wall was visible.
Anjali: "I don't need a very big sky, Vikram. I just need 'a piece of the sky, even for me'... where I can live for a little while with myself. I want my own time, my passion, my identity back."
Vikram stood up and placed a hand on Anjali's shoulder. He understood that this was not just about seeing the sky; this was the pain of losing one's existence while living as a wife and mother.
Vikram (gently): "I am sorry, Anjali. I never realized there was so much sorrow bottled up inside you. You never complained, so I thought you were truly happy."
Anjali (sobbing): "I didn't complain, but shouldn't you have noticed? Did that emptiness in my eyes never become visible to you?"
Vikram made a serious decision that night. From the next day, their morning changed.
Vikram (waking up in the morning): "Listen, Anjali, from today, I will make the morning tea. You take back your half-hour for your painting, sitting in your room."
Arya and Aarshav also came running to Anjali upon hearing this.
Arya: "Mummy, from today, I will polish my own shoes and help Aarshav drink his milk too."
Aarshav: "Yes, Mummy! You draw your pictures. We won't make much noise."
Tears flowed from Anjali's eyes, but this time they were not of pain, but of immense affection and warmth.
Anjali (with a choked voice): "This is it... this is all I wanted. My own little piece of the sky... you all together have given it to me."
Even though only a cement wall was visible from the window today, Anjali had the entire sky in her life now. Her brushes and canvas were out of the old cupboard. Now, she was not just 'Vikram's wife' or 'Arya-Aarshav's mother'; she had become 'Anjali' again.
One evening, when Vikram returned from the office, Anjali showed him a new painting she had done for herself. It featured a vast sky, and in one corner, a small but very bright star shone.
Vikram: "Who is this star, Anjali?"
Anjali smiled lovingly. "That star... is me. Shining brightly amidst all of you, my own 'piece of the sky'."Their household felt warmer now because Anjali's inner world had also found space to breathe freely.
