I dreamt of living. I dreamt of loving and being loved, by my mother, father and elder brother. I was sure my mother would be my best friend, in spite of the hundered thousand friends I would make at school and college. I was positive my father would be my man, till my last breath, in spite of having a boyfriend at college and a husband later on. I was dead sure my brother would take care of me, like I was a part of him. I was, wasn’t I?
It was few days back that my mother and father showed each other how much they loved each other. They held hands, kissed each other, caressed each other and woke up the next morning to a bright, sunny morning. My father, in spite of the slow and caring movements the night before, was in a hurry to get to work. And my mother, still on bed just looked at him with the same loving eyes with which she had looked at my father the night before.
Days passed by, and one fine morning my mother was not feeling well. She felt dizzy and sick, and ran to the bathroom. She had the doubts, but she wanted to be sure and surprise my father once she was certain. She met the doctor, the same doctor who had told her about my brother for the first time. My mother was thrilled beyond words. She ran home, to an empty home, to make it the happiest home with the glad news once it was full. My brother came back from school, and was surprised when my mother let him go out to play in spite of not completing the homework. After all, she was too busy waiting to announce my arrival. My dad came home, a little bit early. May be God had had enough of making my mother wait. At the dinner table, Papa asked Mother how the day was. She said she was not feeling well in the morning and had to go to the doctor. My father, shocked, dropped his fork and went to her side covering her in his shoulders and asked her if everything was ok and why she hadn’t told him earlier. She looked at him, and then to my brother, and then to the only empty chair around the table and announced, “I guess the fourth chair is going to be occupied soon”! My father looked at her with wide open eyes and my brother ran to hug her. I guess my brother understood it a lot faster than Papa himself!
Since the doctor knew Mother and Father earlier, they had asked for my gender, so that they could think of names. And the happy doctor pronounced it to be a girl! My parents came back home, happy, only to be told brainwashed by my Grandmother to abort the baby, since it was a girl. My mother was devastated and heart-broken, but her cries fell on deaf ears. Father tried to convince Granny and tell her that I would be the sweetest baby, be it a girl or boy. But those too fell on to deaf ears.
And then, they killed me!
I dreamt of living. I dreamt of loving and being loved, by my mother, father and elder brother. I was sure my mother would be my best friend, in spite of the hundered thousand friends I would make at school and college. I was positive my father would be my man, till my last breath, in spite of having a boyfriend at college and a husband later on. I was dead sure my brother would take care of me, like I was a part of him. But they remain to be just dreams!
This baby had an urge to live and face the obstacles of life with the help of her family. But her Granny put them all to rest in a minute. Female feticide still prevails in several parts of India, and it is high time it is stopped. Everyone has the right to live and we have no right to go against this right!