A Strange Amnesia

• Short story

								
I forgot what was my age then, but the incident is still fresh in my mind. I was laying in my bed, burning from the fever and the floor was completely spoiled with my vomit. A lady had been cleaning it, when suddenly this man barged inside, kicking the door violently. My heart thrashed as I saw him abruptly grabbing her by the hair, and dragging her out into the other room. 

Although my head was bursting with ache, I ran after them and hid behind the kitchen wall. The room was filled with a lot of people—my grandma, aunts, and uncles. They all silently watched as the man cursed his wife, and insulted her terribly. The reason was simple—she found drugs in his drawer and showed them to his mother. It happened in front of me as well and I never guessed it could result in something so miserable. 

After that, I don't remember if I saw her crying—no, I didn't. The lady was really close to my heart. Years later when I was cleaning our closet, my eyes fell on a dress. It was the same dress she was wearing that day. I carefully unfolded it and noticed it was torn in several parts. I asked her if had she ripped it in anger. She smiled and replied, "No, he did it." 

I asked, "What else happened that morning?"

She told me everything. It wasn't only the dress that got torn, the skin around her shoulder was ripped too for the sudden pull in hair. Apparently, it was nothing for her because when I was a newborn, he'd thrown her into the bathroom and almost stabbed her in anger. She begged him on and on while grasping his feet.

The funny thing is he doesn't remember any of these now. 

She left him. But her family called him, invited her to dinner, and handed her back to him again, not before scolding her for disobeying her husband while honoring him for being great. They knew he wasn't—but saving the marriage was important in our community. It is said, that getting abused by a husband is still better than hearing slurs from society. The husband provides but society abandons.  

I asked one last time, "Why have you still kept the dress?"

She was reluctant at first but then answered, "I wanted to go to the court." 

I smiled this time, and continued my work. 

My father has such a strange amnesia, just like me. 
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