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I recently came across Rise for India. After reading one of the stories posted I was in a constant state of uncertainty that whether I should continue reading the stories given at sides or just close all the tabs. Gathering a lot of courage I finally decided to read all of them and I swear I cried myself to sleep that night. For days I could not take all what I had read out of my head so I decided to talk to my mother about it. Hearing all the stories which I told her with a lot of effort since I was choking on every single word I spoke, I noticed a strange look on my mother’s face that just sucked the soul out of my body, and I asked her just one question….WHEN?

After a long pause, my mother began – “I grew up in this large joint family where my dad and his younger brother lived together along with their wives and kids. I was the fourth out of us five siblings and my uncle had three kids.”  Me – “hmm…( I still could not believe it).”

My mother –  “I was in my room, when the elder son of my paternal uncle  whom I had always acknowledged as ‘Bhai’ (Brother) crept into my room and did stuff to me. I would rather not explain in detail but yes, he did everything. He was 10 years elder to me and I was just in 2nd grade. I just stood there in a trance state, completely unaware of   what just happened. It was as if my brain had shut itself down refusing to record anything. His harsh cruel voice falling onto my ears “Don’t tell about this to anyone otherwise they will blame you for it.” I could not talk to my mother about it, and he did the same to me several times after that. My performance in school deteriorated and my confidence just flushed out completely. I still have a hard time talking to people. I prefer to stay in my own cocoon.”

As my mother was telling me the most terrifying incident of her life I could not help but hold my tears back, but she…she did not shed a single one. All my memories of my mother being completely against sending us to any relative’s house even for a short stay became so clear and meaningful to me. I have been wondering since then that how a person can survive with such a deep scar in his/her heart, trust and soul!

Listening to my mother, I was just trying to search for a sign of pain or a tear in my mother’s eyes but instead I found a little dead girl who had been humiliated and murdered by her very own first cousin. After this conversation, I had developed this new respect for my parents, especially my mother for taking such great care of us that none of these things could even take a stroll around us during our childhood days.

That person, the abuser of my mother is dead now, whereby I am still swinging between the two contrary thoughts that whether I am happy that he is dead or sad about the same as I missed my chance to humiliate him. I at least would have made him feel embarrassed of his deeds in front of his daughter. I KNOW! Imagine the horror that he has a daughter, I hope she has never undergone such experiences with him.

My mother eventually moved on, married the guy she loved, has her own business and three beautiful daughters (as she says it).  She couldn’t ask for more…life is good again!!

This is just one of the million stories that take place in India in every second home. I would like to request the parents to start talking to their children like friends so that their children can trust them. Those unfortunate children are suffering already. Do not make them suffer more by not trusting them or worse, by not even listening to them.  Let’s make India’s future brighter by taking care of its present.


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