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Autobiography of a girl

Written by Eliesa Kharel

How much stupid it is of me to have faced all the troubles in my life and still sprawl few words with a hope of reaching to that speck on the radiant flower beyond my reach. I was left behind from the time of my birth. I could feel that cold, painful, dismal, hapless shaking hands of my mother when she held me for the first time. I could feel those agony, tears, broken words and broken heart of my father when he denied claiming me as his daughter from the time he saw me. I could hear those sharp, ferocious comments by the society towards my sex and my mother’s failure from the time she brought me inside her house. And from that time I realized that I wasn’t born as a daughter to my parents, grand daughter to my grand parents, niece to my uncle or sister to my brother but was born just as a piece of garbage which was to be kicked out when it rots and has her age to serve someone else

Still I grew with a hope of living life, with a hope of being like my elder brothers, with a hope of making everyone realize that daughters are as important as the sons. However, for that I had to step out from the house, step out from the barred window, step out in the open and be able to scream aloud, make people aware, make people accept daughters, make people humane n morale. But doors were rather closed, slammed right in front of my face every time when I wanted to step out from the house. Nothing was painful for me than the time when I had to pop out my little face from the window to bid by brothers goodbye while they were going to school. Nothing was painful for me than the time when they returned back from school tired yet happy and I was compelled make lunch ready for them. Nothing was painful for me than the time when my dad bought new school uniforms for them, new books for them to read and my mom packing Tiffin and kissing them on their forehead before they were off to school. Nothing was painful for me than the time when I asked my parents about me going to school they replied me with grim and furious face. What could I do except fake a smile. I was afraid of being beaten or being left for marriage at such a small age.

I wanted to wimp out from this life. I wanted to be free. I wanted to search my true identity but all these marriage proposals from the time of my adolescence, the horrifying news of girl trafficking, rape cases, murders, compelled prostitution, and insecurities forced to me step back in my domesticated and cursed life. I would find no difference between me and the caged cattle of my house. At least, they were allowed to graze wherever they want to and females were also treated equally. I was made deprived of right to education, right to speak, right to fight for right and right for freedom just because I was born as a girl. I know this is the fault of the ill social norms. But when I see my father worried for my dowry since I was born, mother worried for my marriage, brothers worried for the right guy, relatives worried for my fate, I think it’s all my fault that I was born a girl. But still even if I’m mocked, thrashed, shattered, I am happy because I was not aborted before my birth or murdered after my birth. At least my parents let me live, face the world, teach me a lesson that I am of inferior gender. They made be able to cry a silent tear for whole my life. And having faced all the troubles in my life, I still am able to sprawl few words with a hope of reaching to that speck on the radiant flower of gender equality which is beyond my reach.

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