The Proud Daughter

She came out of the Girl’s washroom for the 5^th time in past half an hour. Anxious she walked up and down the corridor contemplating if she had taken the right decision.

“If not today, then never. This is the only way I can put to halt all these boys and girls who have made life a living hell for me. As if it was any good  but now I have to bring an end to it. I want my respect back and I want these ignorant people to know that how difficult it is for anyone to earn a living.”

“Are you giving the speech today”, asked a girl passing by.

She nodded.

“Perhaps about how to spread your legs and carry forward your legacy”, she smirked and left.

Those words stabbed her making her feel sick. Tears welled up in her eyes which she dabbed away.

“How cruel it is for people to say something so heinous so casually. What if I would have abused them? But that is not who I am. I will give all of them a prompt reply. I have to do this today.”

She went towards the podium  that stood in the middle of the stage of the school auditorium. All eyes were on her. Some mocking, some passing comments, some just smiling and a very few whom she called as her friends giving a reassuring look. Her throat felt dry. She coughed a few times and then clearing her throat a few more times she took a deep breath. The crowd was getting restless making sounds of “boooooo” and yelling at her to get off the stage. The teacher went and gave a pat on her shoulder.

“Speak my child. You are doing nothing wrong”, she whispered in her ears.

“A very Good Morning to all of you. Today I stand here infront of everyone to voice my opinion against the harassment that I have been facing for the past few months. I have never given a public speech till date so kindly bear with me. Few months back some seniors of ours visited a red light area where they saw me because that is where I live. My mother works there”, her voice quivered as she spoke.

“I was hiding this fact from everyone ever since I joined this school because I knew people will be biased and then pass lewd comments about my mother which is totally uncalled for. Yes she is a prostitute but that is her profession. Back at home when she is with me , she is same as your mother is with you. She cooks for me, she scolds me when I don’t study, she is the reason that I have a roof on my head and she is the reason that I am better human being than most of the people sitting here. My question here is that does her profession define who she is or who I am? My father died when I was two. My mother did her best to give me food but the sources of income were scarce and that is when she went into prostitution. She could not see me starving, crying and getting drenched in rain as we had no home. She succumbed to the circumstances. Many of you will question why she did not choose a more respectable job. She did try. She worked as a maid in a few homes where men gave her wolf stares and once one even tried to outrage her modesty. She changed many jobs but the truth my dear friends remains the same. Even in the corporate sectors sexual advantages are hard to ignore. Girls are pressurised into it. They work and sell their morals on the road to success. I am not saying everyone does that but when you have a hungry child back at home money becomes God. Morals couldn’t satiate to our necessities. So she chose to earn with her body. What do you think is it easy for her to be clawed by different men who belong to the upper or the respectable class of the society. Her selling her body is cheap but men feeding on that is just a social get away! How fair is that? The problem that I was facing was that since the seniors found that I was a daughter  of a prostitute , they spread this news like a wildfire in the entire school and  almost every second child started calling me “whore”, “slut” and even worse asked me if I was available for a night. Do you even understand how demeaning it is for me? Had my mother wanted to turn me into a prostitute why on the earth would she send me to a school where the kids of the most elite people study?  She wants me to study hard, get into good college and make my life worth living. She despises her life and she prays every night that I come out of college with flying colors. And you know what I am proud of my mother not because of her profession but because she is more humane than many other people. She has taught me to respect every individual and also taught me the harsh realities of this world. She not only sends me to school but also sponsors the  education of a few more girls whose mothers left them in brothels. She is a warm hearted woman who believes in God. She believes that everyone is equal. I would conclude by saying she sacrificed her life for me and I want to concentrate on my studies. Please I do not sleep around so stop asking for my rate card. No mother would want her child to enter this dark world. NEITHER AM I A PROSTITUTE.  Just like you I am a random girl searching for my dreams. Thank you for your patient listening”.

Tears fell down from her eyes. The teacher quickly came and gave her a big hug.

“I am so proud of you. You did it wonderfully”, she beamed.

Suddenly there was scraping of chairs and a commotion in the auditorium. Almost everyone was standing by now clapping loudly as if telling her that she was accepted and loved. Those who called her names hung their head in shame. The rest were applauding.

She smiled. Finally she restored her respect and got back the dignity that she thought she never had.

Later that evening

“Amma I got a prize at school today.”

“For what?”

“I got it because of you”, she hugged her mother hard who sat bewildered and confused about what her daughter just said.