b My Happy and sad childhood

I saw it in a joint family, but as I grew up, everytime lonely.Since childhood I’ve kept a lot of pain locked inside my heart, I could never tell anyone, ever. I don’t even know if Arab knows. How much I love my father, mother, family.I can never explain in words how much I love them. If someone wants to read my mind and understand, let them. I know a day will come when someone will understand my heart, but by then it will be very late. I have many dreams, I don’t know how many I can fulfill. Let the dreams remain unfulfilled. I have many promises. Listen to them. Since childhood I’ve heard that if.They say girls who are very sad run away and get married. I want to prove this wrong. Also, neighbors and people at home have said many things about this. If I can ever truly stand on my own feet, Maa, then I will give a fitting reply. You’ll ask, where did Maa come from here? This Maa is not that mother. You don’t become a mother just by giving birth. The person on whose lap you can lie and cry your heart out.That person is my Durga Maa, my aunt. So I can never get married. If I can’t stand tall in this house, then Maa Durga’s lap will become my home. I won’t get married. How will I live alone in this house? Will I ever find someone by my side? I will never let anyone know the pains of my heart. To be honest, I never fell behind because of poverty, only because of family.I never got love from close ones. Because I’m a girl, everyone neglected me. Maa apparently wanted a son. No one at home ever understood me, and never will.  Girls my age talk about love in front of the mirror all day, but don’t be sad that I am saying about my own pain. Many times, due to my birth mother’s neglect.If only the imagination were true, if only the person from my imagination were real! Live with these thoughts, stay lost in them, and study in between. Some moments of that imagination are written below: - *Image 8* Girls my age talk about love in front of the mirror all day, but don’t be sad that I am writing about my own pain. Many times, due to my birth mother’s neture.A two-storied house in a small town. 8 people. No cook. My day starts at 7 AM. I am Antara, a professor in the Biology Department, and I run an NGO called ‘Alor Disha’. My didibhai works a corporate job. The two sisters-in-law together manage the household, the kids, and the medicines and tea for our in-laws. At 5 PM, my ‘motherhood shift’ begins. After handling college and the NGO, I put on an apron and enter the kitchen. I have two assistants, Shree, 4 years old, and Diya, 4 years old. My daughter and my niece who is like my own daughter. *The Fight for the Dough Bowl* Today I am making rotis. Shree grabbed the dough ball, "Maa, I will roll it round." Diya said, "Kamma, I will use the rolling pin. I am older." I laughed and smeared flour on both their cheeks, "Condition: whoever makes the roundest roti gets to sleep next to me tonight." In her hurry, Shree made a map of the world. Diya giggled, "Shree, is this a roti or Africa?" Shree looked like she was about to cry. I gave Diya a stern look and said, "You should not laugh at your younger sister. Here, you will eat this Africa." Diya bit her tongue and said, "Sorry Kamma. Shree, don’t cry." I pulled them both into a hug. "My two girls are as sweet as round rotis." *The Homework Bribe* It is 6 PM. Diya’s homework is still pending. Diya hugged my neck, "Kamma, can I skip homework today? My head hurts." Shree jumped up, "Maa, my head hurts too." With a serious face I said, "Alright. If your head hurts, you need to see a doctor. The medicine is bitter gourd juice." Both shouted, "No no no! We are all better!" Hiding my smile, I said, "Wow, just hearing the name of Maa-Kamma’s medicine chases the sickness away. Now, 15 minutes of study, then Ludo." *The Fight for Sleeping Space* 10 PM. There is a war on my bed. Shree: "Maa, I will sleep on your right today." Diya: "Kamma, I get the right side." I lay in the middle and stroked both their heads. "I don’t have a right or left side, my loves. Both my sides are for you." Diya hugged me tight and said, "Kamma, you love me the same way you love Shree, right?" Shree said in a sleepy voice, "Didi, Kamma means little mother. You are my sister, and Maa is ours, both of ours." I kissed their foreheads and said, "Exactly right. Remember Darjeeling? When you were about to fall off the mountain, Kamma caught you first. Because a mother’s lap and a Kamma’s lap have the same strength." Diya said, "Then from tomorrow I will call you Maa-Kamma." Shree said, "And I will just call you Maa. Because a mother cannot be divided." Adri was standing at the door watching. He said, "Professor Madam, your NGO is right here at home. You are raising two little projects." I scolded him in a low voice, "Shh. My daughters are sleeping. And yes, don’t take a share of my coffee tomorrow morning. Today I am a mother of three, I need my energy." Adri smiled and whispered, "Alright, Shakti. I will make two coffees tomorrow. One for you, and one for the mother of three." *At the NGO Gate* 13-year-old Moli was crying. Her dress was torn, her cheek was bruised. Drunk Ratan was shouting, "She is my wife. I will do whatever I want." The people from the slum were silent. Moli’s mother was crying with her aanchal over her mouth. I saw red. I took off my glasses and put them in my bag. I am not a professor now, just ‘Didi’. I pushed through the crowd and stood in front. Ratan lunged at me, "Madam, don’t get in the middle." In a cold voice I said, "Beating someone is biology. Pressure on the nerves causes pain. And the law is chemistry. Section 354 means jail." I called the police and got Ratan arrested. I hugged Moli and said, "Don’t cry. Didi is here." *In the College Lab* Rimi said with a tearful face, "Ma’am, I can’t do it. I get dizzy when I see blood." I put the scalpel down. "There will be no dissection today. Today we will understand the heart." I drew a diagram of the heart on the board. "Tell me, which chamber does a mother’s love pass through?" Rimi whispered, "Ma’am, my mother had heart surgery. Since then I can’t look at these things." I took a plastic heart out of my bag. "Here, cut this. No blood, but all the chambers are there. Today you are my assistant." Rimi held the scalpel with shaking hands. I guided her, "This is the right atrium... this is the left ventricle... Imagine this is your mother’s heart. You are healing it." After class, Rimi hugged me, "Ma’am, you are not just a professor. You are like my mother." *Back Home* At night, Abhra sat with two coffees. "What happened today? You didn’t snatch my share?" I smiled, "Today a girl’s fear disappeared. Her heart rate is normal now. To celebrate, I will drink both. One for the professor, one for Maa-Kamma." Shree ran in, "Maa, I will draw a heart too." Diya said, "Kamma, will you teach me http://M.Sc? I want to be a scientist." Grandma said, "My girl teaches at home and teaches outside too. That is real education." I have understood that biology is not just about cutting things up. Biology means life. Can we afford to be scared? Then who will cure the diseases? Rimi is doing her http://M.Sc now. Thesis topic: 'Cardiac Biology'. In the acknowledgement she wrote: "To Professor Antara Ma’am, who taught me that the heart doesn’t just pump, it also gives courage." This is my Mahishamardini form. Professor in college, Didi at the NGO, Maa-Kamma at home. Pen, spatula, scalpel and love, this is my trident. I don’t have ten hands, but I have my family beside me. These 35 people are my strength. The big house may have broken, but our spirit has not. Any place, under any roof, if we are all together, that is home. That is my victory.