Every Girls Untold Story
Puberty, Dreams, Sex & So on
By Anisha Jain
Copyright 2017 Anisha Jain
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
The thick and hard iron chains clinked with every movement of her arm and legs. Tiya puts all her strength to move them but nothing works. She wheezes, trying to clear a cough in her dry throat. She has lost all her strength. Probably, she is trying the wrong way. Tears pouring down from her cheeks to her chin itches on her skin. She tries to wipe her face pushing towards her shoulder but she is tied so tight that she cant move her arms at all. Stuck inside a prison with dark brick walls, all she can see from her squinted eyes is a huge, tall man with big mustache laughing on her recklessly. She tries to shout but she has no voice. At the very next moment, she wakes up with a loud buzz of her alarm clock.
Three years have gone by; Tiya still wakes up with the blues of her terrible dream every day - staying in a well maintained luxurious apartment with some strangers, living the monotonous dull life of 9 to 5 Job. All the money; all the huge air-conditioned buildings that reek of lifelessness; all the sophisticated people trying to fake smiles and build relationships to move up in career or some to 'just survive.' She's is stuck in this rut, too afraid to take risks and too ambitious to succumb to the banality of this dark tunnel. The big mustache man in her dream was actually her manager laughing on her miserable life and she fills with the hopelessness again, a certain pain - incommunicable and beyond words. After all, dreams are just reflections of our reality.
Tiya does not like her job. But all the people around her do not like their job either, as they say. They believe every job is pretty much the same and thats how it is supposed to be and so does Tiya. She just needs to accept the fact and go on, she thinks.
Every Monday makes her feel as if she is suddenly inside a prison cell with its keys lost until Friday evening. She impatiently waits every day for the weekend to live a happy life.
Snoozing off the alarm in her phone, she rolls out of her bed with sweat all over her face. Then, she ties up her rough and falling hair, puts on her black round glasses, and slams the door of the washroom. Comes out in exactly twenty minutes, puts on her black trouser and any formal shirt whichever is tidy and ironed. No matter she feels miserable, she is spruced up. Letting her hair loose, she puts on some makeup and stumbles out of her apartment with her laptop bag.
And here she is, walking down to her office. She has put on her earphones plugged into her black Smartphone. Yes, she is a girl and she has no pink phone. Is it that odd? No idea about what she is listening to, she keeps moving with the constant pace looking at the front.
Walking through the street holding a laptop bag, a throat leaf around her neck showing the name of the glass boxshe works insideand lost in her thought, Tiya reaches her office. Just like any other day, she is late and running to catch the lift. People stare as if theyve never seen a girl running. She swipes her card and enters the office. The highly illuminated workspace appears as a dark prison to her with the door as the prisons tiny window - the only possible doorway to set her free. Her desk is arranged neatly with one desktop, a keyboard and mouse on one side, and a whiteboard just beside the desktop. A happy picture of herwith lush green mountains shining brightly in sunlightis pinned on the left side of the board.
She scrolls through the emails received from her manager biting her nail. Every word the manager writes hits her like a stone in the eye. Whenever the manager calls her in the cabin, before heading towards his office she eats a lot of chocolate to control her verge of crying. Every time she looks at the glass of water kept on managers table, she imagines herself throwing it on his face. No matter how hard she tries, she can only imagine the big mustache man in her manager. Though he appears nothing like that. He is a neatly dressed, well-groomed man, wrapped in quite professional attire, who pretty well knows how to use his smile as a tool to make employees work on the edge.
During the daily meetings when the manager tells her how she made a mistake and did not work up to the mark, she again bites fingernails into her palms. In the heat of the moment, she wants to shout aloud I dont give a damn about any of it. She does not want to advance in the dull work she does. Each word instantly comes right to her throat, but she devours all of it.
After the meeting, she goes straight to the loo and calls Sahil. He is the only person in her life who keenly pays attention to everything she has to say. She blurts everything out without listening to any condolence he gives. She feels helpless, feeble. With no other choice, she cries all her anger out. As any other day, she washes off her tears and goes back to her desk.
Every fifteen minutes, she checks time. Observing people around her, she fails to understand how everyone enjoys this involuntary work with no life in it. Everyone is engrossed in their computer screens working with full enthusiasm. They actually like doing the meaningless programmingwriting a thousand lines of code with no real purposewhich she hates. At some point of time, she was also satisfied with this routine and even was thriving well. But now, scanning her high-priced outfits she wonders how she ended up here. Perhaps, this is what happens when you choose the path of minimal resistance and make your parents proud. But is this really an achievement? I am not even making an impact on society, she thinks.
Unaware about what she wants out of her life, she keeps her happiness aside and considers earning money as her main motive.
As the clock strikes 6, she eagerly grabs the opportunity to run away from her office whenever the manager is not around. Every day she creates a new tactic asking one of her colleagues to go to the manager for some queries and she sneaks out of office. And if somehow she fails and the manager asks her to stretch at work, it is like the dead end. Her whole world sweeps away. Suddenly she feels an ache in her heart and it becomes hard for her to even breathe. Moreover, if the manager asks her to work on any weekend, she suddenly feels hollowness in her chest. She wants to cry out loud but she cant.
Once she stumbles out of the office, she does not even want to think about any of it. If anyone asks about her day at work, she fully avoids the discussion saying it was Okay. She cant even hold a thought of her imprisoned life. She does not even realize she has slipped into the dark tunnel of nothingness where she struggles to find moments of respite, little moments of happiness.
With time, things become even worse. Now, the life inside the glass box suffocates her every single moment. Regardless of how she tries to keep herself focused, time passes slowly, steadily. However, like others, she compromises. Tiya considers herself like other people around her, ignorant about her desires. She tries to hide among millions of people who just work being nobody. Some have not yet discovered true passion and some are still struggling to take that one single step that can change their lives.
