5 Feb 2026

Priya looked at the cards in her hand and smiled. Two jokers—the game of rummy was hers, and within minutes she closed the deal and won.

“Hey Priya! You lucky girl! You were a star performer today!” Everyone congratulated her on the big win.

That night sleep evaded her. She looked at Ravi, snoring like a tractor ploughing a field. The day’s events unfolded before her eyes. She saw the joker. He was smiling, then slowly sorrow covered his face.

The voices echoed.

“Everyone will call you a joker. What will my friends and colleagues say? That my wife is a joker!”

“Come on, Ravi. Stand-up comedians are not jokers. I love performing on stage, love being called a comedian, love when people smile because of me and forget their worries,” Priya replied in a subdued tone.

“There’s no difference between the two. You performed a few times behind my back because you knew I won’t permit it. And how much will you earn?” His business-minded husband had the habit of calculating profit and loss in everything.
“I don’t want any more performances. Just take care of the house and kids; they need you more than that stage.”

And the journey which had just begun came to an end. No commas, no questions. Just a full stop.

And the years just passed.

Sometimes Priya wondered, “Am I just a Jack, dancing to my husband’s and kids’ orders? The deck has a Queen too, but I never felt like one.”

She rose for water. In the kitchen, it felt like wandering through the graveyard of her dreams. Cooking, testing new cuisines kept her occupied and dulled the ache, but the dreams still lifted their heads now and then and pricked her like thorns. The wounds of broken dreams aren’t visible, but the hurt lasts a lifetime.

She went to the porch. The fresh air calmed her frayed nerves. Across the road, a banner announced “Comicstaan on Women’s Day”, with Jamie Lever and Sumukhi Suresh as judges. She longed to perform before them… but—

Beep… beep.

Her phone lit up. Sarika, her best friend had shared a link—the same event.

Priya set the phone aside, opened her cupboard, and took out a small diary—her secret place for ideas. And then she opened her folder hidden secretly in the archive of her phone. It had small videos of her performances. Ravi could restrict her dream, but he couldn’t demolish the garden which was blooming in her mind. The flowers didn’t bloom, the way she wanted too but she didn’t let the buds die. They were half open, still covered by the night, waiting for the dawn when they would bloom freely.
————————————-

“Sarika, I can’t.”
“But why?”

“It’s been so long. How will I perform on such a big stage? And Ravi won’t allow me!”
“You’re closed in two cages: one your husband built, the other forged by guilt and insecurity. If you want to fly, stop asking permission. Come out of your shell. We have a month. Watch videos, take inspiration, practice with me. If you can make me laugh, you can impress anyone.” Sarika replied .

Priya was confused. Things were not easy. What if she was caught? What if she couldn’t perform? Many “ifs” clouded her mind. She stood near the window. There was a flower pot there. Some buds, and some blooms. She looked at the half open buds. ” Has the dawn arrived !” she wondered. After a few minutes, she turned and said, “I will.” Sarika hugged her friend tightly.

Practice sessions began—early mornings, late nights, under the guise of kitty parties and gym classes. She recorded videos, watched them with Sarika, and they made detailed feedback sheets. In a few weeks, her craft improved tremendously.

—

8 March 2026

“Priya, we have to go to Mr. Sharma’s son’s reception tonight. Be ready on time,” Ravi said.

Priya wanted to throw an excuse, but how long could she hide? One day Ravi would know, and tension would brew again.

“I have my performance this evening. I won’t be able to join you.”
“What performance?”
“Stand-up comedy.”
“Priya, I told you..*

“Ravi ..today I’m not seeking permission. I have waited for years. I can’t postpone my dreams anymore. I’ll do what my heart says, and I’d be happy if you can come. Here are the tickets.”

She left the room without waiting for any reply. She was happy..For the first time she chose herself. Her first step towards freedom.
And that freedom found its voice on stage. The curtains of fear and doubt fell away. Her content was honest, raw, unfiltered—and her performance was brilliant. The audience laughed until their stomach hurt. In the far corner of the auditorium, someone clapped for her . Priya hadn’t noticed him arrive, she couldn’t see him from the stage. But she knew that face: Ravi, her husband.

—

9 March 2026

The next morning, newspapers carried Priya’s photo—the Comicstaan winner.

That night she saw the joker again. This time he was smiling and clapping… for her.