The rainwater falling from the sky. The one that hits my skin reminds me of the love and tenderness of the touch I never got. The water that makes its way inside my mouth with every chance, reminds me of the love of a mother running behind a cranky kid she feeds with pleasure. The rainwater that runs down my cheeks, the one that blends with the teardrops that flow with the pain of never been loved. Everything makes me wish a wish….. I wish I could turn back the clock and stop the time wheel. Not for the second chance that everyone waits for, but to erase life. Don’t imagine that I want to die, I could do that in the present. Don’t you think so? If only I could go back in time, I wish I could visit the day when half of my genome was running to win the race of life, sitting inside a formula one car called the sperm, to meet the other half, hiding with shyness inside an egg carried by my mother. Yes, I wish the sperm that made me would have never won the race, as the combinations it created make me a loser even after winning every race in life. Today I stand in this rain crying even after winning. I got graduated today, not by chance but with every calorie that I burnt. I have been placed in one of the multinational banking firms named the Goldam Packs. Yet with the MBA results that were topped, the only thing my parents could do say is “so what?” Yes, the combination that they made on a rainy day, with my sister away with her grandparents was such a disaster. Don’t blame my dad, he had taken the roots given by the voodoo doctor to kill all the sperms carrying an X chromosome, Yet stupidly strong me fought the voodoo magic and ran to the safety to unite with my sister chromosome inside my mother’s egg. With the desire to have a son my mother kept me safe inside the sack of life which was gifted to her. The cells that multiplied made me bigger and bigger. When I was about four months old fetus, my mom got her first ultrasound scan, not with the desire to know if I was healthy but to make sure I would stand while peeing, which I still don’t do. The blame war had started in front of their 7-year-old, sister of mine. Mom thought, in a country like India where the money is spent more on a girl’s marriage than on their education. How can she afford an extra expenditure? The Nurse next door, who worked in a well-known hospital, gave medicine to stop the heartbeat inside her womb. But the heartbeat was strong. When it can fight the voodoo magic, can the chemicals harm it?. With a week that passed, still with the two hearts that she carried, had to answer the questions put forth by my dad. “If you want me to be with you! go and get rid of that mass of fat.” Even though my mother didn’t want another girl, she had her hormonal instance to keep me, but these words from her love brought her back to the tracks. The hospital doors that she knocked, opened with an empty chair with the doctor who had flown to visit her daughter in the US. Another week that passed made me even more strong and big. That's when she knocked on the hospital doors once again. But the doctor refused to kill me as I was big enough to kill my mom with my death. With Sad face and mourning feeling, my mom had to return home with me in her womb still sucking on to her nutrition like the parasite I was. Dad kept to the words he had spoken. He left home and went away for few more months to pass with a house unprotected by a father. My mom’s hatred towards me was already above the roof. Nearly after three and half months from the day when my dad left, I was calculating my days in the womb to be just a few days. My dad returned home, still frustrated with my presence in her womb. I pity my dad, he had been sober in sexual matters for such long and when he badly wanted to make love with his wife, I was bone in the tender meat. Just like any other good Indian wife, my mother couldn’t put down his desire. That too not for a daughter she never wanted. I was unborn, wasn’t I? The love they had was intense, my brain had no clue about the process. Every time my dad laid on my mother, the stomach within which I had built my home got compressed and relaxed. Then a huge worm crawled beside the amniotic sac I was swimming in. My attention was taken by it. As I saw and wondered what was happening, the sac broke and it was even contaminated with white fluid from the mouth that invaded the worm. I started panicking, the water I was swimming in started reducing with every second that passed. I heard the sound of traffic, then silence, at the end I heard the screams of my mother in pain. When I opened my eyes I was out of the safety of the womb and into this huge world around me. Don’t think I am some sort of super kid who remembered what happened when I was in her womb. It is purely an imagination that grew up on my mind, listening to all the stories of my birth from my parents. I had a father who is a pervert as he is never bothered if it's right to say about the sex life of the day I was born in. My mother who was disappointed that day never failed to remind me how unwanted I was to them. The first cry of a newborn can make a mother happy but it made her neither happy nor sad, it was something equal to a disappointment. I was helpless and dependent to see that when I was born, I had created such a burden for them, I wondered. With time I grew up. How much ever I was disappointed, a mother's love came about my way with time. Yet I grew up with the time that passed. Parents' love came by, and my parents kept aside the fact that “how they never wanted me!” and showed all the love in the world. Yet their desire for a male child was huge and they were sure of having another child is a risk of ending up with another expenditure. Yet the desire for a boy child kept them awake, what was the easy way to full fill their desire? So they started raising me like a boy rather than a girl. However, they may rise, at a time, sexuality hidden inside will come up with the time. As the time passed, I too loved wearing dresses rather than pants. How much ever I was treated like a boy, I still can’t grow a beard but my boobies couldn’t stop growing. My first crush at sixteen was a handsome boy but not a pretty girl. All these were fine to an extent for them. With these events of life that can only happen in a girl, they had to digest the reality that I was a girl. My sister got married at her twenty-two. It was a huge expenditure of twenty-two lakhs. They never felt sad, because she was their princess. But when I reached 20 and was about to graduate, they felt like if I work or study further, it would increase the price tag of the groom they had to search for. The man in his thirties with a kid left behind by his descended wife seemed a good match. As he was rich enough to put a price tag on me instead of selling himself. They had planned it all, how they could clear all the debt they had made for their princess marriage. The money was enough to even start a new business my dad always wanted to. Yet they forgot I was brought up like a boy with all the strength and independent thoughts. I was fearless. What I wanted was something I would go for. In a country where girls are thought to be fragile, I was thought to be tough. With an offer letter in my hands to work in one of the IT firms, leaving home was easy with no fear that most girls in India were grown with. Once the news of me running away reached the man who wanted to buy me, he no longer wants a tomboy to raise his princess. With no man to buy me, I again became unwanted to my family. Three months in my BFF's place, later I relocated to Hyderabad from Bangalore. After working for six years, saved enough money and completed my MBA as well. My bank balance is not nilled anymore. I have a great job offer on my hand. I am not less than a boy. Yet even today, my parents refuse to speak to me because I ran off from the marriage which they thought was good for me. I send in money every month, but they never acknowledge it with words. Yet they never fail to spend. Standing here with all these classmates of mine with their loved ones beside them, I feel lonely even after being a winner for all my life Even to cry, I hide my tears like a man who was taught that he shouldn’t cry. A man and woman both are similar from inside the heart, there is nothing a woman can’t achieve that a man can. The only thing that separates us from men is we can give birth to the seeds they plant. Both the genders are equal in all senses. So don’t say your sons not to show their emotions, and don’t let your daughter believe that she is weak.
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