musingswhileunlearning

  This story is loosely based on the story of a mother and daughter I knew for a couple of years during our stay in Bangalore in 1986. The story has been fictionalized; the names changed as well but the basic core of the story is very real. I was a girl of twelve when my mother told me this poignant tale, for I had witnessed the rather appalling and heart wrenching change of the girl in question. I had made a quiet promise to never get married, if at all I did, till I was financially independent. Of course, I had to convince myself that studies were a nightmare I had to go through which would save me from all the bogey men and their terrors! Credits: Pinterest.com   Like most girls, Mala had been ingrained with the idea of growing up to get married, have a home of her own and children to look after. At sixteen, she was impatiently waiting to have a taste of marital bliss. Her marriage had been fixed with her maternal uncle, Raghu, as is prevalent in some states in southern I...

Little did I realize, as I walked groggily to the front door this morning, that I was going to be shaken up from my stupor with something so unpleasant that would play on my mind all day- all through the million chores that awaited me and an ailing daughter! I let the maid in, who normally has a pleasant expression on her face. Short and round with a face to match, well rounded high and pink cheekbones and a face that is ready to break into a smile; she naturally brings out a smile in me as well. Only, today, she didn’t smile. Was it because I was still half asleep after my chaotic night?  Fifteen minutes later, after I had brightened up some more, I handed her a cup of tea and biscuits and began explaining to her what was expected of her that morning. As I finished, she asked me if I remembered her getting a call last evening from her daughter. I nodded with a vague “hmmm” wondering why she expected me to remember. “It was my daughter wailing at her plight, Amma.” “I don’t k...