Fear of a daughter

Maa often says to me that the biggest and tastiest of ladoos were distributed when I got birth. These words of her echo in my mind the loudest when the crowd inside my head gets louder each passing second and my heart deafens gradually doubting my existence in this big world. Somedays I wonder from where she buys so much faith in me when all I have sold her is disappointment, from where she picks hope in me when all I have stored inside is emptiness. Those are the days when I look at her blankly, yet full of realisations. I fear that one day I have to behave like her, to work like her, to be like her for keeping her head high as a perfect mother of an imperfect daughter. I fear for the day when I’ll burn a roti, when I’ll make the curry salty and my mistake will be accepted not with a pardon, but with taunts and tantrums. I fear for the day when I won’t be allowed to feel tired after returning from work because the duty of a woman is meant to continue until the clock stops ticking. I fear for the day when my fingers can’t paint for the entire day, my eyes can’t read books for the entire night because people say the colour of the responsibilities looks the brightest, the page of a woman’s life begins before dawn. I dread that one-day society will compel me to act overly matured concealing the child in me and the surrounding will demand from me to recreate the little me. I dread that one-day argument & adventure will become foreign for me and the realm of quiet agreement & harmonious adjustment will welcome me. Then I realise how her face tells the silent tale of courage, devotion, sacrifice and tenacity that none has the ability to listen. I don’t know how much strength she possesses to live a life that I fear to even foresee. But somedays I feel better, I love myself a little more realising that I was brought up by a strong woman who taught me a lot, who trusts me a lot.
©ruchiabhisikta

8 thoughts on “Fear of a daughter

  1. Dear Ruchiabhisikta

    How shocked I was when my mother, in a dream when I was a small child, killed my brother.

    As a result, I was no longer allowed to give me her warmth as a person, until death. After all, she was human like you and me.

    That event inside me, not that I believe she was bad. Has driven me through the world as if I were a slave among all people, the feeling goes through my heart every day because I myself am not and was not strong enough against the evil in me. She, my mother, has her indivisible dignity, forever.

    I was a child, an inept grown man, now I’m old, with no distinction or deed worth mentioning. No, I deeply regret my narrow-mindedness, the wrong things I did badly in my fellow human beings, in the work that had to be done.

    I am a chef by profession, what is not there in the food, more than spoiled.

    Not a trust in myself, in the others, the doubt nourishes me daily, about myself and the world, ever since I have been conscious, feel, have an inkling of the world and myself and can think.

    I don’t know the child in me, there is war, all the terrible things that, in addition to the conditions in the world, allow me to experience myself as a nobody. An adventure like on the high seas, in the wind, alone without finding refuge on a safe island.

    I experienced my life as a child, as abandonment, I could not foresee that the blemish on my forehead accompanies me to this day. Failure every day is, and remains, my upbringing for myself. I still don’t recognize myself; til today.

    Since I am not a woman, how must it be for her, under the dictates of men, who do not regard women and children as living beings with their own dignity, as things for use.

    Best regards
    Hans

    Like

  2. Perhaps if More
    Folks Could
    Hear Your
    Story How
    Precious the
    Gift Of Freedom

    Is Fewer

    People

    Spoiled Where
    i Live Selfish
    Under The
    Guise
    Of
    Lies

    Would Be
    Willing to
    Give it

    All Away
    Where There
    Is No Longer

    Even

    A Dream
    Of A Place
    To Immigrate

    To

    Realize
    Fruition of Wings

    Ignorance And
    Lies Take

    Our

    Naked
    Human Wings Away…

    SMiLes Surely
    What Keeps
    Every Mother

    Strongest

    Is Love

    Of ‘The Child’😊

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Yeah !!! That’s what my fear is !! Whenever I get some extra pampering from my parents , I start to think suddenly one day they all want me to adjust and compromise !!! A deep fear❤❤

    Liked by 1 person

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