Part one of a series.
#1
[Roopa a woman in her forties adjusts her hair and nods to the camera. Her daughter signals to her mother and Roopa starts speaking, her voice is quivering and she stutters and stops. But her youngest comes and motivates her, while her son scolds her for being weak. Roopa wipes her face and sits straight. She looks straight ahead and nods]
I think I still remember the day when I wed him, it was like living a fairytale. It was very bittersweet, though the pain of leaving my family behind was still there, I was excited and nervous to start a journey with him.
Now we have two daughters and a son and when I see them I see parts of him in those three. The way they talk, the way throw their tantrums. My eldest is 22, she has kept many secrets from me. I know she doesn’t want to, but the fear of losing her mother’s respect and trust keeps her from confessing them. My son is a homophobe, a misogynist. As much as I would like to blame his dad, I am responsible too I guess. I don’t regret having them. But when the time comes I want neither of them married.
I don’t want them to go through what I go through every day. I would bare it all for my children even for my son who is growing up to be a disaster. But I wouldn’t want to wish upon them, what I have been through.
I have a dream, that one evening he would just disappear, it will be just me and my children. There will be questions asked, but the happiness the dream offers will make them forget the tragedy that the gods have bestowed upon us.
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