24 hours of freedom – a friend’s Independence Day memory
August 14, 2013
Last year she had gone to office in a tri-colour dress.
Don’t I have the freedom to choose what to wear! she thought.
Everyone in Independence Day spirit! she thought
Another announced she’s seeing a guy and her until-then orthodox mom patted her cheeks.
In the evening, the husband called to say, “I’ll be late. Don’t wait for me.”
The next morning she found him beside her. “Get up. It’s time.” She shook him awake.
She walked into office and heard colleagues chuckle, “Someone’s fancy dress is over.” She logged on the computer and an email stared at her, “Give me one good reason why the file was not forwarded yesterday?”
“Freedom lasts just 24 hours in a year, my dear,” she sulked, but within ear shot of her colleague.
“Pity!” she spat. Stood up and said to no one in particular, “There’s something called individuality. Gluing on to lines drawn by others, so much so one day you’ll suffocate and you wouldn’t even know if it’s you or your neighbour gasping for breath.”
“Answer the boss first before lecturing us,” mocked her colleague.
I regret being nasty to my colleague. But that was me last year. In the last one year, I’ve made it a habit of exercising my freedom to live my life every single day. No more am I offended by silly comments.
“So?” I asked.
“I’m wearing the same dress to work. But this time with matching accessories, colour-cordinated nails and a tri-colour hat to boot. Howz that?”