Flash friction- I Am Poonam, Author - Salek Uddin

I Am Poonam
Salek Uddin

1
—Your twenty-fifth birthday is on July 26.
—I know, Dad.
—Your silver jubilee.
—Really?
—This year, I want to celebrate it differently.
—How?
—Invite your five closest male friends.
—Five?
—The ones who are still around.
—You keep track of my friends?
—Fathers know many things. Except what their daughters truly want.
—Then what do you want to know?
—Whom do you want?
—No one.
—Then why does everyone want you?
—Do you really think they want me?
—What do you think?
—They want my dad.
—Still, invite them on July 26.
—What will that prove?
—Whether they see you, or the man standing behind you.
—And if someone says he loves me?
—Ask him, “Me, or my father’s daughter?”
—Dad, you're being cruel.
—Life is sometimes crueler than fathers.
2
—Hello, Rifat?
—Yes, Poonam.
—How much do you love me?
—I’d rather answer that face to face.
—Then come on July 26.
—Of course.
—There’s one condition.
—Anything.
—Tell everyone what you see when you look at me.
—I want to marry you.
—Why?
—Because you’re Poonam.
—And?
—Your father...
—Stop.
—What happened?
—Nothing. Your answer ended too quickly.
3
—Hello, Bobby?
—You’re getting married?
—Then what about all the time we spent together?
—Not only with you. There were others too. In our social circle, that’s hardly unusual.
—Who are you marrying?
—I haven’t decided yet.
—When will you?
—July 26.
—A test?
—Yes. A test of love.
—I love you.
—What if my father were an ordinary man?
—I still would.
—What if I had no money?
—I still would.
—What if I were even more reckless?
—I still would.
—Then come on July 26.
—What will happen?
—You’ll repeat those words in front of everyone.
—Fine.
—Just don’t lie.
—People rarely recognize their own convenient truths as lies.
4
—Dad.
—Yes?
—Not a single one is coming.
—Did you tell them not to?
—Yes.
—Why?
—Because I finally saw myself through their eyes.
—What did you see?
—Your daughter.
—And what are you looking for?
—A person.
—What kind?
—Someone who would know me without knowing my father’s name.
—What if he asks about your past?
—I’ll stay.
—Why?
—Because anyone who stays after hearing my past has seen me as a human being.
5
—Hello, Poonam.
—Who is this?
—Your conscience.
—Where have you been all this time?
—Beneath the noise around you.
—Will you tell me a story?
—There was a girl named Pia.
—Was her father rich?
—Very.
—Did everyone love her?
—Everyone said they did.
—Then?
—One day Pia told a man, “Tomorrow no one will know my father’s name.”
—What did he say?
—“Then how will I find you?”
—And Pia?
—“By my name.”
—Then?
—The next day, he never came back.
—What did Pia do?
—She closed a door inside herself.
—And then?
—One day she opened it.
—What did she find?
—Herself.
—Whose story is this?
—Someone whose name is still spoken by others before she speaks it herself.
6
—Dad.
—Yes?
—I don’t want to live as your shadow.
—You are my daughter.
—That’s my relationship, not my identity.
—Then what is your identity?
—I’ll build it myself.
—With what name?
—Poonam.
—One minute until midnight.
—Ready to cut the cake?
—Yes.
—No one came.
—No.
—Does it hurt?
—No.
—Not even a little?
—A room became empty today.
—Which room?
—The one where everyone knew me as your daughter.
—And now?
—I’ll live there myself.
—And if no one comes?
—The door will remain open.
—For whom?
—For someone who recognizes me before my name.
—And if that person comes?
—I’ll ask one question.
—What?
—“Do you want me, or my father’s shadow?”
—And your answer?
—My answer is already clear.
—What answer?
—I will never buy love by being someone’s daughter.
—What is your name?
—...
—Poonam?
—I am Poonam.