By Kruthi Deepthi Lakkaraju
My dear innocent daughter, I apologise for deciding not to welcome you into this world.
Don’t be wrongly offended that I have discriminated against our gender; know that your brothers are also not in existence. But why would I deny you that right, you ask? Explaining the reason might take a while because I am not even sure where to begin.
Should I tell you about the skewed education system that, starting Day One, requires you to memorise irrelevant details of a bygone era, which are of no use in your life? Years of rote-learning the mathematical equations, physics, and mechanics and calling myself an engineer, I still can’t fix a blown fuse in the house.
Perhaps you like to know about my schoolmates who bought their way into elite medical institutes – do you think I would trust them with anyone’s life? Or should I describe the voluntary servitude my cousins have gone into, working for global conglomerates overseas and sparing mere minutes a week for their loved ones?
I imagine it would be far more familiar and convenient for me to talk about how the doors and windows always remain closed, lest the toxic pollutants encircling our home enter this haven. And even if that didn’t happen, an open door only meant an unobstructed view into the neighbour’s tiny abode and all its corners, where I could peer into their intimate goings-on and vice versa, which would undoubtedly happen in this urban concrete setting.
For a bit of greenery and some peace, I usually travel a couple of kilometres to the local park and look at the strange and unique topiary – plants trained to acquire fascinating shapes since they were saplings. Ten seconds in, I am already drawing parallels with how my parents had moulded me into this perfect adult, with an unending persona that even I don’t fully understand.
Have I lost myself?
This question would mean that I had come into my own identity and gave way to something more agreeable and acceptable, but I don’t remember any of that. Dejected and disappointed, I take the long route home, knowing that I would be late to cook rotis for dinner and expecting to be reprimanded in front of the whole family.
Pushing my way along the busy fashion bazaar, getting nearly hit by a handful of scooters zipping through tight spaces, I manage to take in the conversations between stingy hagglers and street vendors amidst the cacophony. Oh, what a sight it is! I guess you have to be there to know it, but the level of deceit and selfishness you find in places like these is incomparable. Something that comes close to this is the plight of the homeless begging on temple steps or at traffic signals, where the so-called charitable persons seek a change of coins to their fat currency bills.
Suddenly a creep bumps into me, feeling each curve of my body, shyly and sheepishly apologises, citing the crowd as an excuse. I simply shrug and smile, comprehending well that it was no mistake - just like all the times I dreaded greeting the overtly friendly relative who pinched my cheeks and hugged me a little too tight at every family function. Perhaps I need to mention a similar disgust for the father you will never have when he grunts and sways in pleasure after hours of emotionally and physically abusing me. Little does the idiot know that whenever that happens, I swear to myself, “I am not bringing my daughter into this messed up world.”
Before you start judging my child, let me assure you that whatever you are: male, female, cis, trans, hetero, homo, unlabelled, I’d feel the same. The system is broken, and the planet – rotten. You will only be set up for failure, and I can never wish that for you.
By Kruthi Deepthi Lakkaraju