This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 54; the fifty-fourth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.
It was the first downpour of the season, vanquishing the summer heat. Jia, with her earnest brown eyes, was watching outside through a window glass. She was mesmerized to spot a peacock dancing beautifully on the terrace of a distant building. She saw a crowd standing outside under the cafe roof, waiting for the rain to stop and so that they could continue to walk toward their respective destinations. Jia was a sensitive child and mature beyond an eight year old. There were two kinds of people she found standing under the roof. Some of them were silent and calm enjoying the pleasant rains, like her. Whereas, others were despite being strangers were friendly enough to start a conversation for a while. Jia could see them smiling, exchanging numbers. Maybe they had got a new friend. Probably someone useful enough to help other make profits. The latter reason seemed to have more probability. Over the years of her meagre experiences she knew, no one could connect to the other person without means. Like her father who rarely showed his face and rarely looked at his daughter who was searching for a bit of love for herself in his eyes. Last weekend, she had overheard a conversation between her parents.
"Ashish, I'm expecting again."
"That's a wonderful news you broke Ashima."
"Make sure this time it's a boy or else we will get it aborted."
"Ashish, please, I beg you ; I can't abort our child again," she screamed and pleaded.
The next moment Jia listened to her father assaulting her mother and leaving her alone in the room to cry. It was hard for Jia to believe her ears after seeing her father acting no less than a demon. Her feet trembled and she could barely move. The next morning, Jia sensed an awkward silence, some fresh scars on her mother's forehead and arms. She was staring her mother sitting still with hundreds of questions crossing her head. Jia held her mother's hand. Her palm was swollen and had turned blue.
Jia started crying and just then she got a slap. "You have always been a trouble to me, Jia, always."
She cried and ran towards her room.
Trouble... the word echoed in Jia's ears again and again. It was the first time she heard it right, in a meaningful sense to decipher. She was nothing more to her parents than a "trouble". It pinched her. She wanted answers.
"Jia, pack your bags. We are going to my maternal home, your nani ma."
She used to be happy to visit her mom but this time she was nervous and Jia knew the reason. As soon as they reached to Ashima's maternal home, it started raining. Rains excited Jia but she resisted herself. She didn't want to hear that "T" word again so, she quietly walked into the bedroom. Just when she was lost in the web of her own thoughts, observing people in street and contemplating, she heard her nani ma calling out for her. Jia thought maybe nani ma could help mom. She ran through the stairs and slipped from last three steps, and hurt her knees.
"Why did you bring this trouble along with you, Ashima?"
The "T" word infuriated Jia. She ran outside the house crying in pain. She sobbed for hours sitting in the rain. No one came to console her. Nobody cared. She went inside only to find her mother crying over the phone. The "T" word was neither going to leave her mother's fate nor hers.
Seventeen years later...
"Why do you create trouble for me? " shouted Jia at her three year old girl, Sadhna.
Her heart melted and voice choked. Despite having left her parents home and living an independent life for years with her doting husband, the "T" word didn't leave her. It was there in her roots after all.
Jia promised herself, she will never use that word again for Sadhna. She would be a transition woman to make her Sadhna free from gender biased mentality forever.