THE STORY BENEATH THE HIDDEN P

Since I was a kid, I remember that the bangles of my mom were broken and scattered all over the place, and on that particular day, I didn’t get to see Mom’s beautiful smile. The meal would not be good and Mum would not help me with my homework. And I could see the sadness that spread all over her beautiful face. Back then, I had no idea what happened. I repeatedly asked her “What happened?” but she never answered me. She just asked me to complete the homework. And I would go back to work thinking that mom had some health issues. The days, months and years passed by, and I grew enough to understand the problems around me. Since when I was a child, I was closer to mum than dad. I felt comfortable being with my mom. In my childhood, I had spent only a very little time with my dad. Usually, dad-daughter relationships would be great – I heard. But, in my case, it was not true. I never had such feelings that he was my dad and I was his daughter. All I could remember was he used me to get all of his work done such as going to the grocery store, carrying things, visiting his relationships, attending ceremonies, fetching water bringing him a towel and getting something from mom. All these years he just used me. And I don’t even remember that when was the last time I called him dad. I would see the children holding one of their mother’s hands and one of their father’s hands. But when I look back on my family there were two broken parts named Mum and Dad who never talked kindly to each other never sat together or never even minded to make peace in front of kids. All I could remember was quarrels, fights, beatings, shouting, sorrows, pains and all kinds of that stuff. As years grew by, I understood that if they had fought mom would have been upset and not talked to anyone. My dad never treated his family as a family. I have an elder sister. She was a real heroine. Do you know why? When she was preparing for her class 10 board exams there was such a quarrel between them there was no peace at all. But even at that time, she studied hard and managed to get to school in first grade. He was a working employee who got 30k per month. But he has not bothered to pay our expenses or even our basic needs. My mom came from a wealthy family. And she paid our school fees and took care of our expenses and everything with her jewels. I began to see my mom from a happy healthy woman to a depressed, unhealthy woman. But all through these difficulties she never agreed to send me and my sister to a government school. We studied until grade 12 only in a private English medium school. All those struggles she went through to raise us cannot be simply expressed in words. Until my 5th grade, I went to school in a school van which cost only rupees500/- per month. She was able to afford it. And when I was in 6th and 7th grade, she used to ride me on her bicycle all over 5kms distance. As I was somewhat mature at that time, I felt guilty at that moment. I insisted on taking my bicycle on my own. But hence it was a heavy traffic area all the time ensuring my safety she denied it. My mom was with me and was the only support I could look for. She was the only person in the world I loved. I remembered there would be fights that lasted more time that I was very late to school and I was so young that I did not even know how to lie. When they asked me why was late? I would say that my mum and dad fought. And so, I was late. The teachers would pity me. But my friends laughed at me talked behind my back and mocked me. I was too young to understand those mocks and things. My sister suffered more than me. She would protect my mom and get the beatings from him. There were times when she felt so hungry and she would be at her tuition and the master would provide her food. Like other kids, I would never get to watch cartoons play or go out on a trip. My dad denied us from watching TV since when I was very little. Even more, I have never celebrated my birthdays.

I would see my neighbour's kid having a new frock on and a big cake in front of her, presents aside from her and candies all over the place and she seemed very happy. But I never felt what a birthday was like. It would also pass just like another day. I could still remember when my dad would come home from a night shift at 11 p.m. I and my sister would pretend to be asleep and he would argue or fight with my mom. Every day with that same fear of quarrelling we would pretend to sleep. There were never days where we truly peacefully slept. There were days when my mom had never eaten anything o

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r slept. But I never saw my mum shed her tears. She was a really strong and determined woman. She never cried in front of us. But I could hear some moaning sounds in the night but I never woke up as I would already be in a deep sleep. But when I grew older, I figured out that moaning and sobbing sounds were all from my mum. I guess only her pillows saw her crying. And I never visited any place other than school and home. I never felt the feel of entertainment. I would see the neighbour kids going out every weekend to the beach, park or anywhere else. I would see them sadly. I remember once my teacher asked me why I didn’t watch TV and I said that my father did not allow me when I was in 5th grade. She just smiled and understood my situation. And about the festive times not to mention that they were the worst for us. I always pray to God that these celebrations festival seasons and birthdays should not come. When I saw my age children wearing new clothes eating sweets and savouries having fun playing and bursting crackers on Diwali the whole city would be lit up in joy. But for us, it would always be the darkest. Even on that day they would quarrel and fight and we would lose peace. I was always looking forward to a dad’s love but I never received it. I would go completely silent and burst into tears when my friends talked about their dads. Such as “My dad is the best in the world. He buys me whatever I need. He always supports me. He gives me all the love I need. He did this hairstyle for me and a dad’s love is more special for a daughter. I am lucky that I was born to my beautiful dad. And when they turned on me, I was just simply sitting. When they ask me what about your dad, I would simply leave that place. I would look at the daughter playing with their dad, the dad caring for her daughter, and they talk about everything open-heartedly and they used to be close to each other. Looking at all those things I would just wonder that “all these things are possible to do? Could a dad-daughter relationship be so amazing? And when I see my friend explaining her family with her family album, I would feel lost. There was not a single of me and my dad. Even when I was very little my photo I could not see. I would look at my younger self only in the school group photos. I was that thirst for a dad’s love. But unfortunately, I have never received it. even when I grew older, in my teenage I would cry out so loud on the terrace for my unlucky life. But my mom would not notice. I don’t want my mum to feel sad about me. She had already sacrificed her whole life just for the sake of me and my sister’s well-being. So, I don’t want to make her even more sad. But, honestly, only my inner self knew the pain that I had deep inside my heart that even my mum did not know. When I was 14 my dad separated us from my mum. She was no longer able to face him. She lived in a very small rent hut. For nearly six months, I and my sister lived without my mum. When he went out my mum would give us food and we would talk for a little time. That too that food we would hide and eat very soon. If my dad knew that we were in contact with our mum he would send us out of the house as well. We could not live without our mom. So, we decided to live in a rented house together. We moved in there when I was 15. I was studying in grade 10 then. When I was on my way to school, I would see my dad crossing me. But he acted as if I was just a mere stranger.

But it did not feel painful. At least my mum was able to live in peace. But my mum could not face the financial problems then. It was huge and she did not go to any job. We have gone to police stations to inform them about it. somebody came and investigated but was not able to do anything for us. And finally, when I was 16, he abandoned us and went. He went forever. When we got back to our house my mom went to a job and we could manage everything on our own. Though it was a huge relief, in my heart over a small place I was thirsty for a dad’s love. And I have started telling people that my dad had died and to somebody who knows my dad, I say he is abroad or something like that. We have all forget about him. But only I knew that I had deep pains, depression and the moments when they asked about my dad and I was unable to talk about anything. 

For someone like me who has hidden feelings that nobody knows, writing is the only way to express my pains and feelings. And I want to thank my dad for teaching me how to tackle people like him and give them back what they have never expected…