Writing exercises: Mama Sita (Reflection monologue)

Mama Sita, what was once the bold, now sits sadly on her rocking chair in a state-owned nursing home and is kept alive by social welfare. There is no one left to care for her; no immediate family, no relatives- with the passing years, they all went and were laid to rest in their graves.

Now a frail old woman, her wrinkles lay witness to the passing ages; sadly sit on her rocking chair, looks before the mirror to see a sad lifeless shell looking back, and slowly tears began to fall from her eyes…

“Never in my life have I imagined that this moment will come… its 2007 and all those years that have passed before me, lay wasted. How did I let myself be fooled by my two- cent conscience to believe that a life of celibacy would do me a great favor and will make a good example for other women in my time to be free- forever free from the burden of having to care for a good for nothing man, free from the burden of having to care for his children, free from the burden of carrying his children in my womb for nine months, and most of all to preserve my chastity.

Yes, I was popular back then, for my belief has attracted the attention of everyone but at what expense? Now that I am on my 98^th year at the peak of the ladder of life, I have no one to turn to except these white walls.

There is no more turning back, I will gladly face my death and accept defeat without even tasting that organic heaven that makes up a man.

How could I have feasted my body on that sizzling organic life form, squeezed its life juices until I’ve satisfied myself and enjoyed the joyous pain. I could have borne children, which could have cared for me when I have gotten old and would have gladly passed on the genes of their bold mother to the coming generations.

I could’ve made a family, a family that’s happy and full of life, and best of all I could have shared the cradle of happiness doing those nightly rituals with a better half.

Yes I’ve been a fool all along, how I envy the other patients when their families pay them a visit but here I am, sitting like a rotten apple awaiting death for the worms in this nursing home...I have no one to turn to and perhaps one of these coming days I’ll die, but on the bright side; I have no one to pass on my guilt. (Silently sobs).”

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