English Writing
Subject Code: ENW315109

List of Contents

TQA Student ID:

13X35189

1.

Title: Reflective Statement Word Count: 1095

2.

Title: Teenage Dream Genre/form: Narrative Word Count: 3534

3.

Title: Tradition? Genre/form: Narrative Word Count: 1141

4.

Title: Family Genre/form: Narrative Word Count: 900

Total Word Count: 6670

Please Note: • • The Writing Project must be clearly identified. The ‘List of Contents’ must be the first page of the electronic folio.

Tasmanian Qualifications Authority

English – Writing ENW315109

TQA Student ID: 13X35189

Reflective Statement
Expressing my own thoughts into writing has never been a real enjoyment; it probably has to do with my school education where we were asked to refer to the context of the books as learning materials as opposed to pure enjoyment. Education in Australia is very different to where I come from; it requires selflearning and self-reflection for overall development and self-improvement. Obviously the word “self” is important in education in Australia and from this perspective learning has become so much more real and enjoyable. One of the main reasons to choose English Writing is to express my thoughts, opinions and arguments in writing which I have never been encouraged to do before. Over the course of study I have developed various skills learnt different literary techniques and increased my vocabulary. This course is a very good platform for me to prepare myself for university, but I have been allowed to have an opinion, challenge and live in a world of fiction.

Of course I am man enough to admit that it hasn’t been easy. I have found it a challenge to place emotion in my writing and not adopt a regulated format. I have actually been encouraged to ‘experiment’ which was a taboo word in most of my education. My writings have been inspired by real life situations, my family and work. This has given me the opportunity to understand people I live and work with and empathize with their situation. I was influenced by Charles Dickens and my writings revolve around similar themes most notably a person is a victim of circumstances. All my pieces are contrasting in style and emotion, yet are connected by the exploration of human emotions and how people react when confronted with situations beyond their control.

My Writing Project Teenage Dream is inspired by many real life stories and documentaries on anorexia, mental illness in young adults, peer pressure and in particular, Life-Size by Jenefer Shute. Teenage Dream is a narrative about a young woman and her battle with image and how she is perceived by other people. Often people talk about inner beauty and how it is important to have a clear conscience, however, looking at sales figures of some of the cosmetic companies
Page 2 of 20

English – Writing ENW315109

TQA Student ID: 13X35189

and the number of people opting for plastic surgery suggest otherwise. Teenage Dream is first person narrative, told from Claire’s point of view. I wanted the reader to feel closer to the story and perhaps identify directly with the character Claire. I experimented with flashbacks and flash-forward as identified by line breaks. Line breaks are symbolic of breaks in Claire’s life, where in teenage years Claire went through a period of bullying at school, emotional imbalance. Flashback and flash-forwards purposefully used at the beginning and end of the story to highlight the past and present life events, where Claire, although content with Brian, goes through phases of anxiety due to her troubled teenage years. These themes are ones I have never really discussed in my life before and this piece has allowed me to voice my concerns at the pressure, particularly women, feel in contemporary life. Yes, it is exaggerated and convoluted, but suited the presentation of the theme.

My second piece, Tradition? is by far my darkest piece. It is a story of cultural traditions and values that are often stacked up against women. The issue of status of women is always in question in a patriarchal society. For thousands of years people from the Indian sub-continent had considered a daughter a painful burden, a potential source of shame to her father. Family is vital principal group and marriage hallowed as sacred. Women are deprived of their freedom and those who rebel or go against the norms faces threat the people of the community so much so that they are even killed for honour. This is heavily inspired by the episode Daughters are Precious on the program Satyamev Jayate, which translates to Truth Prevails and novels by Jasvinder Sahni, Taslima Nasreen, Hanifaa Deen. I tried to emulate similar narrative style to write on a topic very close to me. I used first person narrative point of view but in a different way from my first piece which is narrated from the point of view of the protagonist. I have always wanted to work towards betterment of the society and in particular some of the prevalent cultural and traditional stereotypes and writing this story has enhanced my understanding of the issue and allowed me the freedom to write on such a contentious issue.

My third piece, Family, deals with psychological impact on the family members dealing with disabilities. Many life events have inspired me to write on this topic, from my work with children and adults with disabilities to situations
Page 3 of 20

English – Writing ENW315109

TQA Student ID: 13X35189

that faced my family over time. I tried to emphasize on the controversial issue of Euthanasia without expressing it directly in the story, the deliberation that doctors often face and at times family members whether to use life-support prolong life or delay the inevitable death. Main reason I choose to experiment with third person point of view is that it is not very common for people to experience Emily’s life however most of us know someone who cares for an elderly parent(s) partner or children with disabilities. An article by Patty Hastings on the Tips for Dealing with Violent Behaviour has influenced the theme of Family. As caregivers start to feel “burnt out” they may also lose empathy for the patient, I aimed to explain it through the character of Emily’s perspective using range of metaphors to accurately describe the emotional and psychological aspects of Emily’s life. Family attempts to shed light on the issues of daily life which at times are quite challenging for people in Emily’s predicament. The narrative exposes the emotional draining on a child of a person who is dealing with health issues; often the forgotten ones.

It has been a very challenging year for me, meeting criteria and deadlines and juggling two jobs. I spent many sleepless nights reading novels,

brainstorming, writing and rewriting my pieces, at times my pace slowed down considerably but eventually managed to complete my folio. English Writing has given me a better perspective to Australian education system and hopefully provided me with a very sound platform for eventual university studies. I have enjoyed the opportunity to write freely with no question on my choice of subject matter. I did take a while to loosen my style and the content of my pieces, but this course has allowed me considerable freedom and this I do appreciate.

Page 4 of 20

English – Writing ENW315109

TQA Student ID: 13X35189

Teenage Dream

“Claire! Breakfast is ready!” He yelled from the kitchen downstairs. I smiled as I looked into the mirror, applying eyeliner on the last empty spot on my left lid. I put my eyeliner down, stepped back, and took a good look at myself in the mirror. “You look great,” I said to myself, turning to head out the door and downstairs where a hot meal awaited me. But before I could leave the sanctuary of my bathroom, I noticed a few hairs were out of place.

Running and throwing my hands onto the sink, I gritted my teeth as I glared into the mirror. I shakily grabbed my can of hairspray, dramatically waving it around as I sprayed it on my nearly flawless hairdo. As the residue from the hairspray surrounded me like a fog, I could hear him calling for me once again. My breathing slowed down, along with my heaving chest, as the fog around me cleared and I could once again see myself in the mirror in front of me. A smile curled its way to my lips before I made my way downstairs where my love was waiting.

“It took you long enough, honey!” He said, kissing me on the cheek and placing a fresh plate of hot pancakes on the table. “Even though, you look extra beautiful today!” I blushed as I sat down at the table, eying the plate in front of me. The second he sat down, I already had a stack of pancakes in front of me, and I was scarfing them down as if I hadn’t eaten in weeks. “Are you alright, hun?” He asked me, to which I replied with a mouth full of food, “Yes, why?”

“Well-” he began, pausing for a moment. “When you’re upset you generally eat like a 125 kilo man. What’s bothering you?”

I stopped chewing and looked up at him. His eyes were filled with concern. I swallowed and proceeded to open my mouth as if to say something, but no sound would come out. I closed my mouth and looked down at the floor. He swiftly came to my side and placed his hand on my back. “Let’s go for a walk. Walks always cheer you up!” He smiled; grabbing my hand and pulling me from the wooden

Page 5 of 20

English – Writing ENW315109

TQA Student ID: 13X35189

chair I was sitting on so violently that the legs of the chair and the floor had a quick screaming match.

We held hands in silence, walking for a long period of time. He would look at me occasionally, assuming I would speak, but I did not. We walked until I passed the school I once attended, where I met the first love of my life. I sighed and smiled. I was so foolish back then. I began to think of all the things I had been through. In my mind’s eye, I watched all of it unfold as if it were happening at this very moment.

***

“Oh, Paul!” I cried as I jumped into his arms, “I do!” I gazed up through my teary fog to look at him. His brown and white eyes looked so beautiful. Tears were running down the left side of his face into his mouth. I watched them make a steady stream from his brown eye to his lip-less grinning mouth. He was all teeth. Literally. After a few moments I let go and he took my hand into his. With his other hand he held the ring tightly between his thumb and ring finger. It glistened in all of its wooden glory. It was beautiful. Paul flawlessly slipped the ring onto my finger and kissed the top of my hand before starting to lean my way, his yellow uneven teeth coming closer and closer to my face as each fragment of a second passed. I began to lean in, almost ready to close my eyes. It would barely be a moment before we kissed! I could hear a faint voice in the distance. I paused. “Claire!” It cried, followed by heavy footsteps. Everything suddenly started to look fuzzy. I blinked and opened my eyes to see a burst of light. “Urgh!” I cried as I quickly covered my eyes with my forearms.

“Wake up, Claire!” Mum said as she walked away from the freshly opened window blinds. “Five more minutes, Mum!” I slurred back in my half asleep jabber. My pillow was snatched from underneath my head and then made its way playfully on and off of the top of my head a few times. I grumbled as I grabbed my pillow from her hands, sat up and launched it. She laughed as it missed her and sailed into the wall. “Come on grumpy!” She chuckled as she ruffled my hair and quickly made her way out into the hallway. I rubbed my eyes and slid off of my bed and drowsily made my way to the bathroom. I flipped on the lights and
Page 6 of 20

English – Writing ENW315109

TQA Student ID: 13X35189

looked into the mirror hoping I would see something new. Nope, it was the same old me.

I leaned in to get a closer look at myself. My big green eyes looked back at me in disappointment. I ran my long fingers over my face, checking my olive complexion for blemishes. Not one. My long brown hair rested gracefully across my shoulders. I grabbed a section of it to check for split ends. Nothing. I forced a large grin to check for cavities and chipped teeth. Nothing. I examined my nose for crooks or bends. Nothing. I dropped my head from view of the mirror and sighed. I was hideous. “Why do I have to look like this?” I thought mournfully with a frown. I haven’t smiled since I was born.

I glanced up to check the clock, seven eighteen. In roughly three minutes Mom would tell me breakfast was ready, and that I had to eat on the run to be at school in time. I sulked my way back into my room and threw on my favourite outfit. Just as I finished pulling on my socks I heard Mom call me from downstairs, “You’re going to have to eat breakfast in the car, honey! Or else you’ll be late!” I grabbed my backpack and slowly made my way downstairs.

“Another day of torture awaits!” I thought to myself as I made my way out the front door.

School was only a ten-minute drive from our house, but the car ride itself felt like it lasted forever. I couldn’t stop looking into the mirror of my visor. I would look at it, frown, and close it. Thirty seconds would pass and I would do the same thing over again. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my Mum pout and her eyes shift back and forth from me to the road. I quickly shut the visor and placed my hands in my lap nervously. “Honey,” she said sweetly as she put her right hand on my knee. “Stop worrying so much about how you look. You’re beautiful.” She smiled and looked over at me.

“What do you know about beauty?” I replied softly in a low voice. Mum frowned but kept her hand on my knee. I looked out my window. She pulled the car to the sidewalk and turned off the ignition.

Page 7 of 20

English – Writing ENW315109

TQA Student ID: 13X35189

“Why do you care so much about the way you look, Claire? Is it because of this Paul boy?” Her eyes wandered quickly up then in my direction. I looked down at my shoes and shrugged my shoulders. She brushed a piece of my hair behind my ear and lifted my chin up to look at her. “Beauty is what is on the inside, not the outside. If Paul really likes you for you, then it won’t matter what you look like.” She looked into my green eyes with her green eyes. It was interesting to watch them jump from left to right as she looked into each of mine. I nodded and forced a slight smile. “That’s my girl,” she said as she leaned over and gave me a hug. I opened the car door and slid off the seat. “See you after school!” she said cheerfully as she started the car up again. I threw my backpack over my shoulder and fixed my shirt. “I love you!”

“I love you too Mum,” I said meaninglessly. I closed the door and began to walk towards the entrance to my own personal Hell.

Before I even opened the door I could feel the heat radiating from inside. “You can do this!” I thought to myself. I quickly reached for the handle, swung the door open and stepped inside. I could feel the eyes of my peers all over me like blue flames. It was as if I was being burned alive. As I walked to my locker people whispered to one another and some even grimaced in my direction. My locker was the easier one to find in all of the school. It was the one with all of the roughly smudged derogatory words written in permanent marker all over the front. I opened my locker, grabbed my book for English and slammed my locker door shut. We were reading Great Expectations by Charles Dickens. I flipped through the book’s pages trying to see how much I would be able to get through today. Most of the pages were burnt and missing, and the binding was nonexistent, but I could read it for the most part. I lifted the book to my chest and as I turned to head towards class I saw him. Paul!

My heart began pounding and I placed a hand on my locker to steady myself. It’s like everything slows down and speeds up at the same time when he’s in the room. Paul is the most popular, beautiful and sought after guy in the entire school. I love everything about him. The way his teeth snarl through his lips, the way he limps when he walks, the way his blind eye reflects light, the way only half of his face moves, and even the way he gurgles when he talks. There is no
Page 8 of 20

English – Writing ENW315109

TQA Student ID: 13X35189

one as beautiful as him in the entire world! I sighed against my locker as he ran his fingers over his mostly balding head. He stuck his hand into his pocket and tossed a mint into his jaw. As he chewed bits and pieces of it fell to the floor. How I wish I was that mint. He wiped his teeth with his sleeve and began limping in my direction. Oh my gosh! What do I do?! I didn’t know what to do, so I pretended to read my English book. When he was three feet away from me he said, “My beautiful girl!”

Without thinking I replied, “My beautiful boy!” His face went from a smile to look of concern as he stumbled past me in slow motion. There was a high-pitched laugh and I could feel the colour drain from my face as I turned around.

“Well, well. If it isn’t silly little Claire,” Janelle sneered. Her arms were crossed and she was tapping her fingers one after the other on the outer sides of her arms. Janelle Savorelli was the most beautiful and popular girl in Shefton High. She had severe scars from head to toe, cataracts in both eyes, and a full head of the most untameable hair ever. She always looked so flawless!

She wrapped an arm around Paul while glaring in my direction. Her bones popped loudly as she did. “Claire, honey,” she began to say in a sarcastic tone. Whenever she smiled or spoke I couldn’t help but stare at her mouth. Her jaw was twisted at a forty-five degree angle and her tongue hung out of the right side of her mouth. She was almost always drooling. Her teeth were so jagged that when she laughed, she looked like a shark. Why couldn’t I be that beautiful? She continued to speak, “No one likes you. No one WILL ever like you. You’re just too –“

“Babe, knock it off!” Paul gargled, “It’s not her fault she looks that way.” He gave me a sympathetic look, but then they both burst out laughing. “Let’s go to class, Janelle,” Paul said as he walked past me.

I didn’t even turn around to see them go. I could hear their laughter and unevenly timed footsteps make their way down the hall. Everything became blurry as tears poured down my face. I dropped my things right where I was standing and flew through the front door of the school. I was going home.
Page 9 of 20

English – Writing ENW315109

TQA Student ID: 13X35189

After a long twenty minute run from school I finally reached my driveway. Tears pouring down my face, my shirt stained with sweat, and my hair looking like I’d been hit by a tornado. I collapsed onto my dirt and stone covered front lawn, sobbing and grabbing the ground with my fingers as if Mother Earth could help me somehow. I pulled myself off the ground and slumped my way to the front door. I swung it open and began walking up the stairs to my room.

“Hello?!” Dad yelled from the kitchen. “Honey is that you?! Claire?!”

I turned around and walked down the stairs into the kitchen without a word. I kept my head down and didn’t look up at him. All I could do was begin to count the tiles on the floor. “Claire! Oh my god, sweetie! What happened?!” He pulled me into a hug and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. It took twentytwo tiles for him to hug me. He took a step back and lifted up my chin, “Please honey, let me know what’s wrong.” I looked into his worried eyes. His completely hairless and skinless face was hard to read emotions from. It seemed as if his facial muscles were just relaxing and contracting all of the time, nothing more. Dad clumsily grabbed a chair from next to the table and gestured for me to sit down. I did. It was time for a talk.

After an hour or so of talking with Dad I convinced him to take me to a plastic surgeon. Ever since I was younger I was bullied for looking different. I can’t count how many times I had been told that my teeth were horrible, that my parents didn’t love me because I was so hideous, and that no one else would ever love me either. Since then I haven’t been able to smile. I’ve never been truly happy before. Even now with the possibility of being beautiful I still can’t seem to smile.

The operation table I put on lying was hard and cold. I could feel my ankle, wrist and neck constraints digging deep into my skin, but it was the only way I could stay still for this. “Are you ready honey?” Dad said nervously. I nodded the best I could. He came over to me and pet my hair. “Are you sure you want to do this? You don’t have to.” I nodded again and closed my eyes. I heard him let out a sad sigh as he kissed my forehead and walked out of the room.
Page 10 of 20

English – Writing ENW315109

TQA Student ID: 13X35189

A few seconds had passed so I opened my eyes to see what was going on. The surgeon held the scalpel in his left hand. I shouldn’t have looked! Now I couldn’t close my eyes! I watched the blade come closer and closer to my face. I could feel my body tense up in horror. Why couldn’t I have waited for anesthesia? Why did I have to decide to do it now?! He shakily held the scalpel in his left hand and quickly made an incision under my left cheek bone. I screamed and tried to get out of my restraints. I couldn’t. This went on for about an hour before it was over. He let the scalpel drop the floor when he was finished, as if he couldn’t stand to touch it any longer. He untied my restraints and stormed out of the room as if he was going to be sick. I lifted my hand to touch my face; it stung something fierce. My face was wet and I knew it was done. I attempted to smile, but I couldn’t. I knew he did a good job…

As I made way through entrance doors of my school, jaws dropped to the floor. I have never gotten so much attention in my life! Not even before my makeover! Girls looked at me in vain as boys smiled and waved giddily. I acted as if nothing was different and went to my locker. My class this morning was Modern History. I opened my locker and pulled out my book only to notice a note I left myself. “Shoot!” I forgot that I had a test in that class. I quickly closed my locker and began to head towards my class a few minutes early to study when I saw Paul and Janelle. They looked as they always did. “Well if Claire didn’t get a little makeover,” she snarled as she put her hands on her hips. I looked at Paul. He couldn’t take his eye off of me. When Janelle noticed she nudged him, “What do you think Paul?” He was speechless. I smirked and looked at Janelle. Her hands were balled into fists. She was squeezing so tightly that I could hear her knuckles popping. She screamed the sound of defeat and stormed off. I fist pumped the air and attempted to smile over at Paul. He blushed and offered to walk me to class, which of course I accepted.

I sat down in my seat and began flipping through chapters seven through ten of our textbook, trying to memorize as much as I could before the test began. I softly began mumbling the sections to myself, “World War I, Kita Ikles 1883 – 1937, Mikhail Gorbachev 1931 – 2000, Nelson Mandela and apartheid.” As I turned the page I was cut off by my teacher’s announcement to put everything
Page 11 of 20

English – Writing ENW315109

TQA Student ID: 13X35189

away except a writing utensil. I sighed, shut my book and put it underneath my desk. My teacher made a trip around the room handing out the tests. I wrote my name in the top left and corner and began to work on the questions. I groaned as I read the final question. “Of course!” The question was, “Industrial Revolution and the social consequences of industrialization in Britain in early nineteenth century.” Denoting the living and working conditions for working class people; economic and social division between rich and poor. I completed my answer and flipped over my test, letting my teacher know that I was finished. Before I knew it, school was over and I was back in my bathroom staring at myself in the mirror.

“What amazing work,” I said as I ran my fingers over my face. My right eye was swollen shut and there was a hole directly underneath it. The skin was completely pulled from my face in many places, leaving the muscle and scar tissue underneath visible. My bottom lip was slit from right to left, enough so that I could manoeuvre my teeth through it. I looked as if I had been though a World War. I had never been so happy in my life! I was finally beautiful! I attempted to smile at myself but I couldn’t. I physically could not smile. I was truly happy for once in my entire life, but because my face was so damaged and swollen I couldn’t. All I could see in the mirror was the same smile-less girl I saw before. I buried my gorgeous new face into my hands and began to sob. All I have ever wanted was to be able to smile and mean it.

***

It has been a long time since then, but how I felt was still true. I never got to marry Paul, as it was a childish dream, but I married Brian instead, who swears to this day he loves me for my inner beauty instead of what’s on the outside.

I looked down and noticed his hand was still in mine. I realized I was crying, and he soon realized it as well. Before he or I could say anything, he embraced me with a hug and another kiss on the cheek. We stared into each other’s eyes and he said one thing I will never forget. My heart began to pound and it was as if the sun had finally come out after a long storm. I finally smiled and meant it. I couldn’t stop smiling for hours, for days, for weeks, for months,
Page 12 of 20

English – Writing ENW315109

TQA Student ID: 13X35189

for years. As a result of my past surgeries, the warped muscles in my face froze, leaving me with a perpetual smile. I didn’t mind though, because I was finally truly happy. And when I died, I smiled all of the way to my casket, my funeral, and my grave. Even after, I smiled until the maggots came and physically erased the smile from my face.

Page 13 of 20

English – Writing ENW315109

TQA Student ID: 13X35189

Tradition?

“Kiran?” the voice on my mobile phone was barely more than a whisper. “Kiran? Is that you?”

The train ride back home was a typical for Friday evening, “Are you able to speak up a little?” I asked, raising my own voice over loud chatters from fellow passengers and continuous rattling noise from the train.

“I found your number in Indus Age, My - ” the line suddenly went dead. Indus Age is a local monthly newspaper. It has largest circulation to Indian and South East Asian community in the country. I was interviewed a week ago concerning my own plight with honour based violence. After two years of lengthy legal proceeding over evidence of injury which included tampered medical records I managed to get a divorce. I was sure that such crimes against women were prevalent and practiced behind closed doors, after my divorce I wanted to assist other women in similar situation and have my phone number published in the newspaper.

I thought I lost her but then, few minutes later, she was back. “Sorry I had to hang up I thought someone was coming. My parents are forcing me to marry a 35 year old man who I don’t even know. I am a prisoner in my own house. I can’t take it any longer. I need help.” She stopped for breath. “Please help me,” she said in a trembling voice. She sounded frantic; it seemed that she was at the mercy of her family.

I didn’t know who I was talking to but I knew I had to help. I spoke quickly, “Can you get out? There are all sorts of help available if you can get out.” I knew from my own experience that if a girl has made up her mind to run she usually finds a way to do it. This woman could be anywhere in the country but she was desperate and I had to reassure her. “There is help for you,” I stated, “There are women refuge houses, people to support. I would support you. You’ll be okay.”

“But how…Wait, that’s Dad. He’s coming. I have to go.”
Page 14 of 20

English – Writing ENW315109

TQA Student ID: 13X35189

Her phone went dead.

I felt anxious, my pulse shot up as I tried as best I could to get on with my daily household chores. Later in the evening while I was preparing dinner my phone rang again. I tried hard to understand but couldn’t make out anything except the gasping sound. I turned off my range-hood and enquired further, “Hello?”

“It’s me, Asreen,” she spoke, her voice penetrating as if she was right next to me. “I did it, I ran away.”

“Where are you?”

“Redfern.”

“Asreen, you have to call the police. Dial 000,” I had put my phone on speaker as I washed my hands.

“No, I don’t want police. My family will never see me again. My community will disown me,” she claimed almost hysterical.

I could imagine why Asreen didn’t want police to be involved. She was in a state of fear and frustration. Her parents who loved her dearly until almost overnight their feelings changed as they now consider a family’s honour more important than that of their daughter’s well-being and happiness.

“Meet me at Redfern railway station in 45 minutes.”

“Please don’t be late,”

I called on my children and explained them that I need to go out on an emergency. I drove as fast as I could past the motorway speeding up to maximum limit. I reached Redfern at 8 p.m. it was crowded, people pushing one another to get ahead in line. Few country trains hurried past while the intercity trains
Page 15 of 20

English – Writing ENW315109

TQA Student ID: 13X35189

stopped at the platform for passengers. I walked across the automatic ticket machine to find myself staring at a tall, slim woman leaning against the closed door humming what I could understand a very popular song. She looked no more than sixteen dressed in a traditional outfit her head was covered in a veil. I caught her eye and she smiled and then waved at me.

“Kiran?,” she asked enthusiastically.

“Yes.” I walked closer I could see her eyes swollen lips dried smeared make up over her face. I offered her a bottle of water and walked with her to my car. No one spoke, the two minute walk felt like an eternity.

Breaking the silence she spoke softly, “Thank – thank you Kiran. You saved my life. I read your story and only after I spoke to you I found courage to leave my house.”

I didn’t know what to say, I was in a state of shock. I felt rage I could barely focus on my driving as I wanted to say something. Asreen continued, “There were bolts on all doors and someone from the family was always home. I didn’t know how to get out. And if I did, where would I go?”

We talked about family, food, school, fashion and many other issues on our way back. We talked as if we were best friends and had known each other for many years. I introduced Asreen to my children Maya and Vicky and offered her rice and lamb curry for dinner. It was close to midnight she looked very tired and fell asleep as soon as she sat on the lounge.

I imagined her situation; it was her mother who arranged her marriage. She grew up knowing that one day the subject of her marriage would come up but didn’t expect it when she was sixteen. She was one of the smartest girls in her school; she wanted to become a psychiatrist. One day when her parents woke her up and told her that she was going to get engaged Asreen said bluntly, “But I don’t want to.”

Page 16 of 20

English – Writing ENW315109

TQA Student ID: 13X35189

I sat next to her contemplating on the events of the day. I wanted to help Asreen and reach out to other women in similar situations confronting criticism and oppression from inside their communities and often close family members for not being obedient to the traditional rules set by men for thousands of years.

“Are you alright?” Asreen said waking up suddenly. I realised that I accidentally dropped my glass on the wooden floor breaking it into pieces. “Why can’t I live like any other sixteen year old girls? Why can’t I have boy-friends like girls from my school?” she cried while cleaning up broken pieces of glass.

It was close to two, I was so exhausted I could barely feel any strength in my legs. I could hear Asreen’s voice slowly fading away as I walked into my children’ room. With my eyes closed and holding onto my daughter’s hands as they drifted off to sleep, the visions of Asreen being held hostage by her family were overwhelming and I tried to seek explanation for such acts against one’s own daughter.

Page 17 of 20

English – Writing ENW315109

TQA Student ID: 13X35189

Family…

Mathew has always been a man of habit. He wore the same three clothes through the week, winter and summer, alternating each day. He woke every day at 7 am, took exactly 10 minutes in the shower, ate the same breakfast each day, clipping his nails every Saturday night, eating Italian every Thursday. It was his routine and he didn’t like anyone interfering in it, especially her.

Emily first noticed that her father was becoming more and more mystified about four years ago. On many occasions Mathew asked for food just after eating his lunch or dinner, often alleging that Emily was a rogue cop and was trying to kill him by not giving his food. Emily often fought with him, tried to change him and tried to understand. It was not easy for a child to watch her father lose his mind. He had been referred to a consultant for an assessment and eventually confirmation came - dementia.

Mathew was clearly unable to cope on his own, but at the same time he didn’t want to move out. He didn’t want to lose his house, his life, his routine. Emily made the decision to give up her job as a business analyst. The strain was immense, particularly because Mathew would barely communicate, and when he did he took out his frustrations on Emily, submitting her to verbal abuse. Emily vaguely recalled that in the past her father’s methodical quality had been great source of comfort for her which was slowly fading, millions of miles away…

Even as she reached to shut off the alarm, she knew that today was going to be different. Suppressing momentary urges of panic, she got out of bed and began doing the same things she had been doing for the past three and a half years. Putting on her slippers, she strolled to the kitchen to prepare her father’s breakfast: cup of black coffee, one egg over easy and two slices of toast, each cut diagonally and placed in quarters along the edge of the plate. That was how he liked it and Emily knew the consequences, but today would be the last time.

Mathew entered the kitchen as Emily was transferring her egg from her iron cast skillet into his plate. He had the black shirt on, which struck her as
Page 18 of 20

English – Writing ENW315109

TQA Student ID: 13X35189

fitting. Black for mourning. Without a word, she set his plate on the table before him; without a word, he began to eat. For few minutes, the only sounds in the kitchen – besides the ticking of clock and the hum of refrigerator – were of Mathew eating, sipping his coffee, the clatter of cutlery against the ceramics. Emily leaned against the table looking intently at her coffee mug. Wisps of steam rose from it like spirits, each one vanishing as soon as it became visible. She wished she were a wisp of steam, then realized suddenly that, to her father, she probably was.

Cramming the last piece of toast in his mouth, Mathew rose from the table and left the kitchen, again without a word. The persistent silence was deafening to Emily’s ears. She stood as if rooted to the spot, blood drained from her face. Yet on the other side of the barrier, in the far incredible distance, was the landscape of her early childhood – of giggles, secrets and walks to the shops hand-in-hand. She felt her resolve crumbling, and fought it. Was it wrong to help her father? Didn’t she deserve a better life? Clenching her fists, Emily forced herself to move, climbing the stairs going into the bedroom.

Emily had spent many sleepless nights contemplating on her life. Five years ago she was working in a reputable company with generous annual package; by comparison her life is now stuck in an unforgiving unloving world. She was physically weak and emotionally drained, she needed some time to rethink reassess and make a decision. She closed her eyes, gave one last thought, and went in the shower.

When she had showered and dressed, she went into her closet and opened the door. There stood her suitcase half concealed by dresses on their hanger. She stared at her suitcase as if mesmerized. The suitcase provided her new life of independence and self-worth, and end to this suffocating. She packed her suitcase, closed the closet door, took one last look at herself in the mirror and headed downstairs.

At first Emily thought that her departure gained momentum with every passing step. By the time she closed the front door of the house and reached her car, she felt like a bird taking wing. Yet, as she headed out of the garage, Emily
Page 19 of 20

English – Writing ENW315109

TQA Student ID: 13X35189

felt her love for her father drawing her back, like gravity – invisible, inescapable. Her foot drew away from the accelerator as if on its own accord; tears welled up in her eyes, obscuring her vision. She pulled the car over to the curb and sat there, her thoughts in turmoil. Was she being too hasty? Was there another solution? Perhaps all she need was some temporary respite, little time and distance to gain perspective.

Tears rolling down her cheeks she spoke to herself, “I don’t want to see my father end up this way”. Emily drove ahead, took the next roundabout and returned to her father, like a homing pigeon. A human boomerang. Back she went to the silence, the routine. Family.

Page 20 of 20