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Her Life in Snapshots

May 28, 2014

She awaited her first breadth in this world. Rani would be born in the industrious rural area with cattle roaming around, modest homes and natural lifestyle. She came in this world and heard her first words “Please understand, it was illegal. Next time, our lord will bless us with a boy.” In some other land with tall buildings, busy people, loud horns Riama was born. Her parents smiled at her pretty sight but their eyes awaited their next child.

When Rani yearned for the smell of books and the warmth of the class, she was handed one meagre book, the smell of which was overpowered by the aroma of masalas. The classroom was her brother’s kingdom while the kitchen was her hut. Raima on the other hand was handed her S.S.C books on her first day at school. The I.B books awaited her brother.

They snatched away the book from Rani’s hands and adorned her with a spatula. Raima found herself holding a book in one hand but the other hand held the tea kettle. She wanted to drop the kettle, but they wouldn’t let it happen. Suddenly her hands felt weary with the weight of the objects. Somehow the book kept slipping and no one cared. Everyone thought the kettle was precious.

Rani’s parents would become furious when she would look at boys. But one day, they said Rani was to have a special friend. They went around the fire for the friendship. She then went far away with him. Raima’s parents merely frowned when she went out with boys. But they didn’t frown quite as much when she was with Mishra uncle’s son. They wanted her to go far away with him some day. Raima, now all grown up, wanted to go far away as well. She introduced the special friend and they were furious. Perhaps the white kufi on his head had something to do with the anger. She wanted to say kabool but she found herself going around the fire.

Rani’s hands bore the brunt of washing utensils, her skin bore the marks from her special friend, her heart bore the burden of being a prisoner. Raima’s back bore the brunt of cooking for the family as also sitting in an office, her tired mind bore the brunt of under-performing at work and under-performing at the kitchen, while her heart bore the brunt of not being loved.

When years passed by and they stared into the eyes of their daughters, they knew they had a decision to make. History would repeat itself only if they would allow it.

 

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