Page 150 of One Indian Girl
‘I am not homely. So maybe I will just stay single.’
‘Don’t say such horrible things.’
‘There’s nothing horrible about it,’ I said.
‘This money and international job have gone to your head. You are not even a girl anymore.’
‘What?’ I said, one eyebrow up in disgust.
‘Forget it.’
‘Mom, dad used to walk me to the school bus stop, remember? When I was in primary school.’
She looked at me, said nothing.
‘He used to tell me, “Beta, when you grow up, you can do whatever you want. The sky is the limit for you.’’’
‘So?’
‘Why do people tell girls all this? You ask them to achieve things, but when they do, you can’t handle it. Why does it become “you are not even a girl anymore”?’
‘I don’t know all that. I never worked. I didn’t have choices like yours,’ she said.
‘Neither did you have the courage,’ I said.
She paused for a second before she spoke again. ‘I don’t know. Okay, fine, I don’t have courage. Anyway, I think it is better for women if they don’t work.’
‘Mom!’ I screamed in exasperation.
‘What?’
‘My job means a lot to me. Can you not demean it?’
‘Can you not demean me?’ my mother said. She broke into tears. Her sobs turned into a full-blown crying fest, as she mourned the loss of her ten shortlisted prospective sons-in-law.
I looked around. I found a tissue box on the bedside table. I passed it to her. She wiped her tears.
‘Do you know how much pain I had to bear when you were born?’ she said.
It’s called labour, mom. I didn’t cause it, it is how kids happen.
‘I heard you wanted to abort me,’ I said.
She looked up.
‘Who told you?’
‘It’s not important how I found out. I heard the doctor goofed up on the sex determination test. He said it would be a boy.’
My mother looked at me in silence.
‘Those were different times,’ she whispered. ‘We had Aditi. Your dadi wanted a boy.’
‘You did too.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Sorry, mom, I came out. You got a raw deal.’
