They pushed me out,
into the light,
and all I saw was darkness.
Darkness in their faces,
Darkness in their faltering smiles,
Darkness in their unwelcoming gaze.

They did not hug me,
They did not greet me.
Why would they?
Do you hug a curse?
Do you greet a burden?
You do what She did.

You cry,
You lament,
your misfortune,
at having borne not a child, but a girl,
at having brought not joy, but a mouth to feed,
not a working hand, but a commodity you do not want.

You do what He did.
You look on,
rage in your eyes,
despairing sadness in your heart,
you shut down,
and you blame her for it

I grew up in their home,
every morsel begrudged.
Biding time,
eking out the days,
until I would be of age,
old enough to dump onto another.

And they did dump me,
dumped on him,
bought and paid for,
to do my duty,
to serve,
as was my destiny in this parched land,
barren from male footfalls,
starving for feminine gait.

Starve on, oh land,
for I will not come.
Dignity holds me here,
honor won’t let me go,
society won’t let me leave,
this cage of conventions,
this prison of a frozen culture,
frozen in time and spirit,
frozen ice cold in its cruelty.

I will stay here,
and wait,
for some little approval thrown my way,
for some scrap of affection,
for some precious moments of attention,
to bear a child, not a girl,
and dote on him, like no one doted on me

Image courtesy: the-nri.com online magazine