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"What if I also find myself incapable of loving my daughter someday?" is a fear this young mother to be expresses, in case a girl is born, like she was deprived of love as a girl child.
“What if I also find myself incapable of loving my daughter someday?” is a fear this young mother to be expresses, in case a girl is born, like she was deprived of love as a girl child.
Dear mom, I felt your joy when you first found out about me in your tummy. I felt dad’s love through the sound of his breath and through the words he spoke to you. You were waiting for me to fill your world with happiness.
I heard when dad asked you, ‘do you think its a boy?’ And you replied with a positive smile. Your heart told you that I was a boy. Then relatives, neighbours, friends, everyone asked you, everyone guessed. Nobody could be sure. Even I didn’t know ma, if I were a boy. But I really wanted to be one, because that would make you happy. Trust me ma, if I ever had a choice I would have been born a boy.
And I heard your disappointed ‘oh’, in the delivery room, when the good doctor told you I was a girl. I felt your sadness ma. My heart ached, I had disappointed you. Even dad didn’t come to see me for one whole day. He was busy arranging for stuff and paying the bills, they said. But soon you both accepted me, and I was overjoyed.
You took me home. I was in love with you, also with dad, but most of all with you. I never doubted your love. In few years, bhai came, my companion, my soul brother.
I craved for your love, your touch, but you were busy tending to his needs. I understood, I kept myself busy with toys. I saw how you loved him, you never loved me like that ever. I spent my childhood seeing the two of you, hugging, laughing, sharing thoughts, eating food together, playing games together. At night, all my dreams used to be about you. Wishing that you would care, that you would for once love me like you love him.
You sent me to college far away from home, you seldom called. I missed you ma. I was not adjusting, I was lonely, I needed some one to talk to. Soon my studies were over and you married me off. ‘Finally gone to her home’, you announced about me.
I never felt at home amongst those strangers, again no one cared for my tears or laughter. As long as I did my duty, I was accepted. Years passed, I did manage to make that place my home; the strangers are my family now. You have rejected my kids like you rejected me. Bhai’s kids will be your family, not mine, you yourself told me.
And now, I am really scared.
What if I also find myself incapable of loving my daughter someday?
What if my son became the centre of my existence and my daughter would spend sleepless dark nights, holding on to the pillow cover? Imagining it’s me, trying to find comfort.
What if I married my daughter to the first accepting stranger, and then rejoice that finally she left my home?
What if I too told her to adjust, be silent, never answer back, do as others tell her and accept everything as her destiny?
Pray for me ma, that I may not reject my daughter for being a burden, a responsibility, a liability. All I want is to keep loving her ma, to give her all the love which I never got.
Image source: shutterstock
I love writing, it is an outlet, a stress buster as well as a means for understanding myself. I am trying to find my voice. Searching for the unattainable, to bring in the change. read more...
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Neena was the sole caregiver of Amma and though one would think that Amma was dependent on her, Neena felt otherwise.
Neena inhaled the aroma that emanated from the pan and took a deep breath. The aroma of cumin interspersed with butter transported her back to the modest kitchen in her native village. She could picture her father standing in the kitchen wearing his white crisp kurta as he made delectable concoctions for his only daughter.
Neena grew up in a home where both her parents worked together in tandem to keep the house up and running. She had a blissful childhood in her modest two-room house. The house was small but every nook and cranny gave her memories of a lifetime. Neena’s young heart imagined that her life would follow the same cheerful course. But how wrong she was!
When she was sixteen, the catastrophic clutches of destiny snatched away her parents. They passed away in a road accident and Neena was devastated. Relatives thronged her now gloomy house and soon it was decided that she should be married off.
Being a writer, Nivedita Louis recognises the struggles of a first-time woman writer and helps many articulate their voice with development, content edits as a publisher.
“I usually write during night”, says author Nivedita Louis during our conversation. Chuckling she continues,” It’s easier then to focus solely on writing. Nivedita Louis is a writer, with varied interests and one of the founders of Her Stories, a feminist publishing house, based in Chennai.
In a candid conversation she shared her journey from small-town Tamil Nadu to becoming a history buff, an award-winning author and now a publisher.
Nivedita was born and raised in a small town in Tamil Nadu. It was for schooling that she first arrived in Chennai. Then known as Madras, she recalls being awed by the city. Her love-story with the city, its people and thus began which continues till date. She credits her perseverance and passion to make a difference to her days as a vocational student among the elite sections of Madras.
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