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Ashna Najeeb

Abstract Drama Romance


Ashna Najeeb

Abstract Drama Romance

Wife Of Who?

Wife Of Who?

5 mins 229 5 mins 229

I crossed my paths with a stranger today,

She felt me so close; asked if I had gone astray

You are me and I am you

Wouldn’t that be too good to be true?

Alison, she says; I’m Alison she repeats

A girl a woman a friend a foe

Questions and answers you never really know.

Red. All I see in her is red

The scarlet hues, the red attire

The scarf signifying her desires.

You are me and I am you, why then do I not see myself in you?

I’m Alison I reply. Times have changed but I remain I

We wear red and black; we wear yellow too

The judgment remains the same.

The world has changed

Yet the mind remains the same

Alison craved attention then

Alison seeks attention now

I will be me and do as I wish

I will put myself first and that is my wish.

I’m Alison she says; I’m Alison I reply

As both of us see each other in our eyes.

I follow the rules of experience rather than authority

What is it that you do she asks?

Authority and rules don’t go hand in hand

For we are now always made to stand in a line

Bow our heads

Listen to men

Agree to their rules

Seek their authority.

With a creeping look of despair, Alison asks if the world isn’t fair

When has the world ever been fair? We were made from their ribs, made for them, and to them shall we yield.

I make my own stories I make my own beliefs.

Child, lady, seamstress, weaver I have them all in me.

What they see is in me is what they want to see

A look behind this vocation of being a wife, a touch that will not deafen my ears.

What is your story? What is it that they see in you now?

I am Alison I repeat. I make my own stories that are heard by none.

I beg and cry to have a profession.

Days will turn into nights and summers will welcome winters

Our lives remain subjective to men and society. Our wants still under their control.

What should I do to make my own story be told?

I count my fingers and I count my husbands.

Got one for me when I was 12. Child? Wife? How should I define myself?

A journey from a child to a wife. From a weaver to The Wife of Bath.

Alison? She inquires. What is your craft?

My pilgrimage is limited to my house. My Jerusalem is inside these four walls.

I step out and they say “God save a house with such a lady”

I slowly creep back inside. It’s a dark world outside.

Lend me your horse, Alison. I say. Lend them to me.

My breath suffocates. I need to leave.

I have wings. I have dreams. I see that in me.

“Alison,” she says. “Are you still trapped? Let go of that skirt that still holds you back”.

It's not the skirt but the mind that plays the tricks.

"I dress for the image. Not for myself, not for the public, not for fashion, not for men”, said Marlene Dietrich.

Centuries of change. Days and months and years change.

The moonlight of misogyny shines brighter with each passing day.

You were called out for your dress Alison. This Alison is often called out for the same.

Speech is soft. Glances shy. Character tint less. Opinions invalid. Beliefs are extinct.

I have now become a Damsel in distress. Do you still not get the hint?

Hush-hush. Let me keep my voice low. My opinions are too loud for them to control.

Eve. Mary. Alison then. Alison now.

Giovanni Strazza carved The veiled virgin.

Veiled. What should be kept hidden?

The fact that Alison then was still fully equipped while stepping out

Or the fact that Alison now has been snatched off that liberty as well.

Maybe if I wear sharp shoes. Should I carry my bokeler? Maybe if I wear the veil not as my identity but as my safe weapon.

If maybe and but.

IF Alison is called worthy by Chaucer. MAYBE it’s the subtle hint of her not being worthy. BUT what if she is worthy. Who decides that Alison? In your world, today are you worthy?

I am you. Am I you?

"Who painted the leon"? I ask the same question even in this century.

Alison being worthy or not is still decided by Augustine who contends that woman is subject to

Man. Decided by society. By men ruling society. By everyone and not by Alison herself.

Jankin. My love. So young. So flattering.

Reads about wicked wives. About eve, Delilah’s betrayal of Samson, Clytemnestra’s murder of Agamemnon, and others.

Are you a wicked wife to Alison? Is that what they call you here?

I am one. I surely am I reply.

They want fair wives. Character and skin.

They want submissive wives. Tone and behavior.

They want obedient wives. Actions and demands.

I am Alison I keep forgetting. My charity is not charity but a show of my wealth.

My attire not my need but the definition of my character.

I am Alison I repeat. Alison is me. Is she?

Seven centuries between us.

Seven cardinal sins.

Lust and gluttony defining my wealth. My ’Greed is a sin against God, just as all mortal sins’

"sorrow about spiritual good". That is my sloth.

Wrath envy and pride work together to make Alison ”worthy”.

The sin of eve still defining us. Still answering misread glosses. Still misinterpreting our values.

A woman. A lady. A girl. A child. Alison is all of that. Alison is The Wife of Bath.

You are me and I am you.

Centuries apart.

You are Alison and I am Alison.

I crossed paths with you again.

This time without the burden of the sin that we have carried all these centuries.

This is our tale. A tale centuries apart. I am Alison. Who are you?

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