Just A Daughter

By Priyam Gupta

To,

The one who’s never been around

I was 4 when I fell off the terrace. It was an accident but in that micro moment of a long fall, I still hoped you’d be at the other end to hold me in your arms. Unfortunately, you weren’t, like always. Mom says you wanted to stick around but the unplastered walls of our house made you travel places, so you could get them plastered one day. I used to eat bricks as a kid, so you’d never be able to make a new house and then go around getting to plaster them.

I was 6 when I drank a bucket of kerosene. It was an accident but, when I opened my eyes after my body received injections and saline, my eyes were hoping they would open to you. Unfortunately, they didn’t. Mom caressed my forehead to tell me that you’ll be home soon. You weren’t.

I was 10 when I wrote my first poetry. Mom says you loved writing poetries too. But, you have a lot of documents to look after now and your notepad seems to be resting under them all. I wish I could hear one of your poetries or two.

I was 18 when I was sent away from home to a boarding school. Yes, you came all along, to drop me off. But, immediately after you left, I started reminiscing about everything you had said while leaving and I couldn’t stay there for long. I created a drama and emailed you. Soon after, the warden said somebody had come to take me. I walked out the door hoping it would be you, it wasn’t.

I was 22 when I came home from college. You had always visited the railway station to pick up buas and dadis and I was sure, I’d run to hug you at the station. When I climbed down, I saw Mom walking towards me. I chose not to run.

I am 24, still wanting to feel like someone you know. I’m still waiting for you to come down the stairs of your well plastered room to ask me if I’m having a bad day. But, you walk down those stairs twice a day only to ask me if everyone’s doing okay and I’m not sure if I’m everyone.

It’s been years hearing that I’m exactly like you, that I’m moody, that I sleep in the same position as you do, that I’m exceptionally good at poetries just like you. I guess we both don’t know how to express love in person and so, we choose to write. I hope one day I find a diary where there are sermons of love written just for me, all for me. I hope you’ve written letters of guilt for all the times you missed the PTA meetings or chose to choose your family’s happiness over mine. I don’t have many regrets but I wish I could be your family too, and not just your daughter. You’ll always be my hero, even though I could never be your princess.

Yours truly,

Just a daughter

By Priyam Gupta