For the first time since the last six years of her wedded life, she was alone. He had gone on an official trip for an indefinite period, which could extend up to a month, he had said.

Maya clearly remembered the day he had announced his impending trip. She had experienced an inexplicable sense of relief, expectation and exhilaration at the thought of being alone, all by herself, to have the house to her. To live the way she wanted, even if it were for a couple of days. She had fought the thought as soon as it had reared its ugly head- it was blasphemy. Despite all her efforts, she couldn’t suppress the vague tingle of expectancy that coursed through her entire being.

For the first time in her life, she was going to be free, totally free – to eat whatever she wanted, to sleep whenever she desired, to awaken at whatever time she chose. It was a very tempting thought. With carefully averted eyes, she tried to conceal the brightness in them, camouflaged under a façade of tragic expression. It was a difficult task to keep an impassive face while she experienced a hitherto un-experienced sensation of being alive, a venture into the territory of freedom – of thought, movement and mind.

As long back as she could remember, Maya had been told what she should do and how she should live. Earlier, it had been her parents who had sought to imprison her in a cocoon of love, knit out of sheer protectiveness and concern. Nevertheless, it was a cocoon. She envied her brothers – their unfettered life and irresponsible ways. As they grew up, even the younger boys had the liberty to dictate the path she should follow, by the sheer accident of their birth as male. Her inner self rebelled against the unfair dictum, but it was a silent voice of rebellion that was quashed. She understood that she was born a woman, a female in a small town environment that confined its women in a shell – to protect them. From what, she often wondered.

Even the subjects she chose for her graduation were decided by the men in the family. It was feminine to study languages. After all, the women of their family did to go out to work, so it was just a question of acquiring a degree to make her more eligible for the marriage market. While her brothers went on to study science, maths and architecture, she spent time poring over books on Milton and Shakespeare. She had wanted to be an architect.

Soon after graduation, she was married off to a man the family chose. Her opinion I the matter was not sought. She had just exchanged a set of gaoler for another. Gopal was just an extension of the psyche that had pervaded her home. Their marriage was as tasteless and flat as a cola left out in a glass. No fuzz, no fizz, no bubbles and nothing. Something was amiss. Maya knew that marriage was supposed to be much more than this – something more than just a primitive mating of two tired bodies swept together in a momentary flicker of passion. Unfortunately, there had been no offspring to divert her mind.

Maya had reconciled herself to the set pattern in the groove along which ran the pivot of her life. And then came this break in the rut, an opportunity to taste the unknown, to savour the delights of an unfettered day, a week or even a month. She could hardly believe it. She had been living in this partly self-created imprisonment of her small apartment in the gigantic cosmopolitan city. Apart from the exchange of smiles across the balcony, or an occasional word with the lady next door, there had not been much to look forward to. Maya had not ventured out to make friends partly due to inertia and partly because she harboured a fear of the unknown. She felt a warm and comfortable sense of security within her domain. Decades of lessons grilled about the virtues of homeliness had rendered her incapable of enjoying the free air of the outer world.

She would have loved to pick up a job in a school, teaching tots - she loved being with children. But neither jobs were easily available nor was she pushy enough to break the shackles of the family rules.

 Gopal left the next morning, after leaving a horde of instructions. She was not to open the door to any stranger.. she should not go out alone after dark …she should remember to use the double latch at night and check all the doors before going to sleep.. he would have like to take her along but his boss was going, too. Maya had no doubts that her husband would have no scruples about having a one-night stand in the other city despite his holier-than-thou attitude.

Her mind was in a spin; she didn’t know where to begin or how to begin enjoying her new found freedom. Yet, she was eager to begin, lest she lost out on the precious time. She could almost taste the sweet froth of freedom.

She ventured out for a walk on the pretext of buying vegetables. Maya had often done so in the past, but today she felt a different swing in her walk as she took a deep breath to confirm her liberated state.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she watched and noticed everything that had escaped her attention earlier. How had she missed the beauty and laughter all around? Why had she not noticed the tall Gulmohar tree ablaze with blooms, or the old chowkidar’s cap set at a jaunty angle, or the little shanty across the street where the cheerful looking, plump baby crawled around, surrounded by the dismal array of garbage? Why had she missed the poetry of the broken lines across the skyline and the din of the traffic with the sudden lull that was so deafening?

She walked on gaily, swinging her bag. She felt alive. She forgot the vegetables, she forgot the time. She was young – just twenty-eight, wasn’t it time to enjoy, to see the world, to be noticed and admired.

Then she noticed the gentleman across the street, a smile on his lips, watching her with an appreciative look. Instantly, her steps grew more springy, her walk more sexy.

She pretended not to notice the effect it had on the man, all the while watching from the corner of her eyes. She knew his eyes were following the undulating rhythm of her hips. His attention aroused her vanity, her unashamed thirst for appreciation was awakened and her scorched throat begged for more than visual adoration. She wanted more – an assurance of her charm, desirability and a confirmation of her feminity.

Her chaotic thoughts scared her. Suddenly she realised the folly of her dreams, the unattainable height of desire. She was frightened, her unabashed thoughts raced helter-skelter, she wanted romance, she desired adventure and she lusted for the forbidden.

The sanity of her mind retracted her steps and she applied brakes to the random stream of cogitation. Maya screeched to a halt, sobered with the practice of lifelong leashing of desires, she slowed her walk, gathered the flying pallu across her shoulders and walked sedately back to her house, her eyes downcast, her walk totally asexual.

Her tryst with freedom was over. Frightened with the enormity of her unleashed dreams, she took refuge in the security of the four walls of her apartment.

After the painful years of captivity, the bird with the clipped wings had forgotten to fly. Alone in her gilded cage, she waited for her gaoler to return.