Tears gushed down my eyes as my fragile daughter opened her eyes into this cruel and patriarchal world.
No, they were not tears of joy even though I had prayed long and hard for a child.
No, this was not the happiest moment of my life but perhaps the worst, even though I had spent thirteen long years craving for a child.
Or should I say son?
The first time I laid eyes on her a wave of emotions spread over me in quick succession- amazement at god's creation, awe at her beauty, and for a fraction of second, overwhelming joy which was immediately replaced by sorrow and an urge to disown her
No, I was not heartless as I may appear to so many of you.
I was merely instrumental in this internalization bound by the norms of society.
What could I do? This little girl had brought upon me and also herself immense pain simply by the vogue of her sex. I remember how at such a time William butler yeats had prayed for his daughter even though the prayer was well within the bounds of patriarchy, it was much more that I could do.
Cries of vehement curses erupted from my heart .
How could the gods have let fate play such a cruel joke on me after my endless years of devotion. I had begged and prayed for a child. Was it my folly that I didn't use the word "son"?
I seem to disagree. Wasn't in understood that in a household where it was difficult to scrape one meagre meal, a daughter would've been prayed for only second to death?
Even the influential and blessed killed their baby girls before they even stepped into this world. Then how could I blamed, a mere laborer?
How ironical it is, this country in which we live.
They began propogandas against female infanticide and foeticide. Sex revelation before birth was banned, yet those with a few crisp currency notes could have found out easily enough. Do you believe that if I possessed such wealth I would harbor these thoughts? But in the end beggars can't be chosers, it's a simple fact of life.
How I had longed for a son, a strong young man to forward my name and lineage. How I had begged the gods for a boy who would bring us wealth and fame. How I had dreamt of a young saint who would live to fulfill my dreams, my son, who would support me when my body gave up. A son who would take me on a pilgrimage.
I can chronicle the life of my daughter so that you can be the judge of whether death wouldve been a better option for her.
She would grow under my roof yet never receive the fatherly love she craved.
As her naivety vanished she would realize that she was a lesser being born in the world of men.
She would spend long hours dreaming about an education she could never receive. She would become a victim of the hegemony with a reified conscience. As soon as she was married off she would cease being human and exist as a mere possession, treated as a means to an end. If fate was cruel to her as it had been to ne, she would give birth to a daughter and for the rest of her life be doomed as a harbinger of bad luck.
Maybe if she was born in a different era, a different planet or even in a society which was neither patriarchal nor patrician, I would've loved her dearly, cherished her like any son. But it could not happen in this life.
Maybe if the society miraculously transformed and men began treating women as equals, a society where she could carry my name forward, be my support. But the idea was as far fetched and painfully comical to me as if I were an incarnation of Vishnu.
I entered the ward where my wife lay, a serene satisfaction on her face.
I pulled her by the arm and commanded her to come with me.
When she realized my intentions, she became savage, kicking, cursing, beating with all the strength she could muster. I pulled her hair and she screamed in agony.
When it became clear to me that she would not relent, not leave her baby behind, I did what had to be done.
It was purely circumstantial and essentially unavoidable.
I left the ward with my daughter in my arms and searched for an empty private room. It wasn't hard to find one in a government hospital which was too expensive for the poor and too lowly for the rich.
I lay her on the bed gently and looked with her at a mixture of love and loathing.
I slowly reached for a pillow and covered her little face. She shook wildly with all the movement she was capable of.
Till she took her last breath she clutched my finger tightly as if hoping that I would be her saviour.
No, they were not tears of joy even though I had prayed long and hard for a child.
No, this was not the happiest moment of my life but perhaps the worst, even though I had spent thirteen long years craving for a child.
Or should I say son?
The first time I laid eyes on her a wave of emotions spread over me in quick succession- amazement at god's creation, awe at her beauty, and for a fraction of second, overwhelming joy which was immediately replaced by sorrow and an urge to disown her
No, I was not heartless as I may appear to so many of you.
I was merely instrumental in this internalization bound by the norms of society.
What could I do? This little girl had brought upon me and also herself immense pain simply by the vogue of her sex. I remember how at such a time William butler yeats had prayed for his daughter even though the prayer was well within the bounds of patriarchy, it was much more that I could do.
Cries of vehement curses erupted from my heart .
How could the gods have let fate play such a cruel joke on me after my endless years of devotion. I had begged and prayed for a child. Was it my folly that I didn't use the word "son"?
I seem to disagree. Wasn't in understood that in a household where it was difficult to scrape one meagre meal, a daughter would've been prayed for only second to death?
Even the influential and blessed killed their baby girls before they even stepped into this world. Then how could I blamed, a mere laborer?
How ironical it is, this country in which we live.
They began propogandas against female infanticide and foeticide. Sex revelation before birth was banned, yet those with a few crisp currency notes could have found out easily enough. Do you believe that if I possessed such wealth I would harbor these thoughts? But in the end beggars can't be chosers, it's a simple fact of life.
How I had longed for a son, a strong young man to forward my name and lineage. How I had begged the gods for a boy who would bring us wealth and fame. How I had dreamt of a young saint who would live to fulfill my dreams, my son, who would support me when my body gave up. A son who would take me on a pilgrimage.
I can chronicle the life of my daughter so that you can be the judge of whether death wouldve been a better option for her.
She would grow under my roof yet never receive the fatherly love she craved.
As her naivety vanished she would realize that she was a lesser being born in the world of men.
She would spend long hours dreaming about an education she could never receive. She would become a victim of the hegemony with a reified conscience. As soon as she was married off she would cease being human and exist as a mere possession, treated as a means to an end. If fate was cruel to her as it had been to ne, she would give birth to a daughter and for the rest of her life be doomed as a harbinger of bad luck.
Maybe if she was born in a different era, a different planet or even in a society which was neither patriarchal nor patrician, I would've loved her dearly, cherished her like any son. But it could not happen in this life.
Maybe if the society miraculously transformed and men began treating women as equals, a society where she could carry my name forward, be my support. But the idea was as far fetched and painfully comical to me as if I were an incarnation of Vishnu.
I entered the ward where my wife lay, a serene satisfaction on her face.
I pulled her by the arm and commanded her to come with me.
When she realized my intentions, she became savage, kicking, cursing, beating with all the strength she could muster. I pulled her hair and she screamed in agony.
When it became clear to me that she would not relent, not leave her baby behind, I did what had to be done.
It was purely circumstantial and essentially unavoidable.
I left the ward with my daughter in my arms and searched for an empty private room. It wasn't hard to find one in a government hospital which was too expensive for the poor and too lowly for the rich.
I lay her on the bed gently and looked with her at a mixture of love and loathing.
I slowly reached for a pillow and covered her little face. She shook wildly with all the movement she was capable of.
Till she took her last breath she clutched my finger tightly as if hoping that I would be her saviour.
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