Our Daughters

In this unfamiliar land, life takes on a different hue, far removed from the freedom and openness of our childhood home. Raised as free spirits, my sisters and I were encouraged to pursue art, music, and passions that brought us joy, unencumbered by blind customs and superstitions.

Yet, here, existence is governed by stringent rules. "If you don't cook, you won't get any food," echoes as an unyielding decree. Arbitrary guidelines dictate the colors one must wear on specific days, threatening ill luck and a doomed future for non-compliance.

The pace of life is stifled by the weight of customs. Even as a high-ranking official, returning home tired and late demands immediate attention to familial duties, or risk being cursed and denied sustenance.

In this peculiar society, daughters' parents are expected to bow low, as if their crime was birthing daughters. Gifts flow one way, from the daughter's family to the son's, yet reciprocity is a distant notion. A daughter, once cherished, becomes the target of relentless torment upon marriage, suffering for every aspect of her life, even the love of her husband.

A food enthusiast by nature, I find myself relegated to mere leftovers, with no expectation of fresh meals. Falling ill elicits blame instead of concern, and seeking assistance is met with reluctance, as a wife's role is confined to servitude.

This land, with its peculiar practices, manipulates the names of deities to instill fear and enforce detrimental customs. Despite gaining independence from British rule, we remain enslaved by our own misdeeds, and our daughters find their freedom curtailed, treated as inferiors in their in-laws' homes.

As we annually celebrate Dussehra, symbolizing the triumph of good over evil, the persistent darkness within us remains unvanquished. In a country where goddesses are revered, daughters-in-law, who sacrifice everything for their husband's family, endure perpetual torment.

I endure hunger, listening to the curses heaped upon my parents for failing to send gifts to my in-laws. Yet, in the tears that go unnoticed, I find solace, believing that one day, liberation will come for all who suffer silently.

“yada yada hi dharmasya
glanir bhavati bharata
abhyutthanam adharmasya
tadatmanam srjamy aham

Paritranay sadhunam vinashay ch dushkritam,
Dharm sansthapnarthay  sambhmami yuge yuge”

Whenever there is a decline in Dharma and increase of adharma, the Almighty will manifest Himself.

For the protection of the pious, the destruction of the evil-doers, and establishment of virtue.