Love Me

We are at a bookstore curiously examining through some books as mum buys some supply for my sister. She is flying away from the nest for higher studies. Sigh!

I overhear some woman yelling at her young daughter. Wondering what the matter is, I shift towards them. What happens next is quite disturbing. The woman slaps the little girl and screams, ” I don’t have money to waste on you!” She lets her son buy the Doraemon notebook set. As my mum finds this disturbing she asks us to move out. I strengthen my resolve, plaster a cheerful smile and walk out of the store.

It gets me to contemplate. And I start to look here and there for more archetype. Paying more attention on a boy child, listening to them, disparity in health, letting them lead are some exemplar of how it begins. As we sit in our favourite restaurant and decide on what to eat and drink. I get on to my cellphone.

{Do you know Hinduism is the only major religion with innumerous female deities, yet there are 10,633,298 boys against 9,677,936 girls in India which makes our country one of the top countries on Female foeticide index?}

As I get back to my food, I reflect on how lucky I am to be born to my parents. We are after all two sisters, extremely adored and pampered by our parents. But it was not a cakewalk for my mum at all. She was constantly agonized by ‘some’ people for not having any son. She went through this physical, mental and emotional pain for quite a few years. My dad, although had lost his way initially, came to his senses and took a stand for her in this patriarchal society. He is my true hero! Let’s just say we are the apples of his eyes.

I drive back home and get on my computer. As I am surfing through, I stumble upon this beautiful blog on Quora by Balaji Vishwanathan. It inspires me to write this poem.

Can parents love a child,

way more than the other.

Might seem delusive,

this is my tale, not of another.

 

We were both birthed by them,

yet they had an inclination.

One was loved way more,

I wonder why this deviation.

 

Am I not their real daughter,

or am I not good enough.

Why all wrong verdicts for me,

how come life for me is rough.

 

Studies, money, care and love,

everything was limited for me.

I wish I wasn’t born and brought,

or alive for all this to see.

 

I wish someone would love me,

and none else would matter.

And make me realize for once,

love exists, it’s not mere chatter.

 

I promise to go far away,

and never for you to see.

You will get all of my riches,

but never a taint of me.

As I proofread my poem, I look at our family portrait hung up on the wall and thank Lord for my parents and sister.

 

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5 Comments Add yours

  1. Anonymous says:

    Xlent

    Liked by 1 person

  2. smriti says:

    True picture of Indian society

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Yes. A sad truth indeed. 😦

      Like

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