Dear Mother

Yamini Parashar is pursuing her BA from Delhi university. She likes to write poems and observe things and is concerned with social issues. She identifies herself as a feminist and sees herself as a clinical psychologist in a few years. She’s been a part of a few poetry programmes held in her city.

Dear Mother 

Dear mother,
I wish you could have told me some things
And I could have said some to you
If only if we had interacted and spoken,
These disparities would not have been so severe.
I wish
To untangle the chaos from our lives even now
But how do we even begin?
I want to sleep on your lap again
But realise at every point in life
That it made no difference,
Talking, I mean,
You said, “Don’t talk to me now.”
What was my mistake?
How do you not see the scars,
The bullets in the heart,
When I  stopped interacting with people?
Because you didn’t even acknowledge them
When I was dying from pain
In the soul.
For you never told me
What that red blood meant
Until it flowed between my thighs
And I feel disgusted not because of the blood
But because you chose to be ignorant
I feel bad not because we stopped talking
Not talking was my decision
But faking it was yours.
Life exhausted me with the burden that I carried which I was not responsible for
And then too, you chose to be negligent
Telling me, “Talking to boys is your fault.
Arguing with your brothers is your fault.”
And then I decided that maybe I was at fault.
When relatives laughed at a gathering
Because I was a little clumsy
And because I spoke my heart out
Or because I was unlike my cousins
Who seemed to be experts in everything.
And you, again
Displaying my flaws in front of the aunties
And then laughing
Like it didn’t matter
And all you said was, “It’s just for fun.
I did not intend to hurt you.”
Maybe I made those mistakes
Tell me, how do I repent for them?
How do I unmake those mistakes?
Then I remember I have been burnt and left like ashes
Who could not do anything than die
And do you even remember my last cry?
You used to say, “She’s very strong.”
And yes, you made me that strong
When you chose to be ignorant again
When that pervert, in my own house,
Tried to put his hand under my clothes
And grab my breasts
And held my hand
And made me touch
Where I didn’t want to
And when I told you
Hoping you would understand
This time you told me to ignore it
And keep my mouth shut.
When this happened the second time
And that person wanted to see me naked
I ran for my life
But that was in vain.
I tried to tell you
But couldn’t gather the courage because
All you ever did was ignore me
Because you said ‘Ignorance is bliss’
And yet, you say that I don’t tell you anything
Now, courage seems so far away
And trust seems so broken
And when I reach “marriageable” age
You’ll find a man for me
Who, I’m pretty sure,
Would do the same things to me.
Would you tell me to ignore it this time too?

Opinions expressed are of the writer.