Alone yet Not Lonely

“Siya baby wake up”, she heard her mother’s voice.

She saw her mother looking beautiful wearing a spotless white cape, her dark tresses flowing, her big eyes brimming with love and her smile, which everyone said resembled hers. She raised her hand towards her smiling sheepishly. And the moment their fingers were about to touch, she vanished away.

She sat up with a jolt. It was just another dream. Dreams that showed her mother trying to reach out to her. Dreams that made no sense but yet that were everything to her. Somehow she knew she’ll never be able to get over the loss of her mother. Her mother, her best friend, her confidant, all lost battle to that disease which people called cancer and she called “her enemy”. It was hard for to get used to the fact that her mother won’t be around.

She lived with her father, her elder brother and her grandmother whom she despised. Her grandmother never liked her and held her responsible for all evil that befell on the family. And even she hated her for the reason that she constantly urged her father to remarry. Step mothers are bad, perhaps granny hasn’t read Cinderella , she often thought.

An intense pain had started to grip her past few days. She held her abdomen and gave out a shrill cry. Her father came running to her enquiring if she was fine. She looked at her father, his ashen face, his swollen eyes that gave all the lies he spoke about being fine, the clothes he wore weren’t ironed, how could they ever be, mum was not here and grandmother did nothing except chanting her verses.

“No dad I am fine. Just a little stomach ache. Can I skip school today”, she asked meekly.

“Of course sweetheart. But promise me if it worsens you’ll give me a call and you’ll be a well behaved girl behind my back. I don’t want any complaints from your Granny. Okay? “

“She’ll complain irrespective of that Dad and you know that”, she stuck her tongue out.

He kissed her forehead and went out. He knew his mother was emotionally scathing his daughter by her vicious words but then how can he leave her alone. Since the day Siya’s mother has left he felt his desire to live had dampened but he had to live for his daughter who was doing everything to fill up the void.

Since her mother’s death she had matured a lot. In her last days her mother kept talking to Siya alone maybe transferring all she knew to her. Since then she never made unjust demands, her homework was duly done, she got up on her own, dressed up for school, made food for her dad, never answered back her Grandmother. She started to fill for her mother’s place. Every evening when her father returned , she would rush to him with a glass of water asking him how his day went and narrating him each and every single event of her day. Somehow maybe she and her mother had a secret bond that nobody would know. Siya wanted to become a doctor to know what killed her mother and to stop it from killing anyone.

But today she laid in bed withering in pain. She walked to the bathroom and to her utter horror she was bleeding and that too from down. She stared in horror not understanding where the blood came from. She was just nine. She sat in the bathroom, crying.

“Why am I bleeding there? Have I also got cancer? Am I dying? Whom should I ask? Granny? Oh no she’ll never help me. Should I call dad? No No he’ll be very worried. When mum told him he broke into tears I can’t do the same. Whom should I call?”

Suddenly she remembered that her mother gave her a number to call whenever she was in a problem.

“Hello.”

“Hello Young Women Helpline. How can I help you?”

“Ummm I am bleeding and that too from down and its paining in my stomach.”

“How old are you?”

“Nine.”

“Okay hold on you are fine you just got your periods. Where is your mother ? I guess I need to talk to her.”

“ She is dead.”

“Okay. Where do you live?

“I live in Asha Apartments, second floor , 3^rd flat.”

“Okay wait we are sending help.”

After 15 minutes the doorbell rang.

Siya opened the door and found a plump woman standing there.

“Hello sweety. Let's get to your room. Okay give me an undergarment of yours.”

The lady unwrapped a white thing that stuck on her bottoms. For the next one hour she told her what happened to her and explained her how to deal with it.

“I’ll be leaving now. Next time you face a problem give us a call.”

“Thank you. “

The lady looked at the photoframe on the bedside.

“Is she your mother?”

“Yes .”

“Your mother was a beautiful human being, And you know what she was the one who initiated this helpline. I have just started working there  but I have seen many photos of her in our office. I am glad its because of her that even I was able to reach out to you. God Bless! And make your mother proud one day.”

“Dad was right. Mum could make anything alright, even when she wasn’t around”, she smiled to herself and closed the door.

Very soon I’ll be a doctor.

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.