Autobiography of my silence

When I was a child, I tried to open up. I cried very loudly… That was the only way to express pain at that point of time!

But my grand father said,


“Your brother is crying. Don’t you hear that? You are a girl. Stop crying and take care of your brother!”

When I was an adolescent, again I tried to open up. I shouted at my father to make him understand that I am in pain.

But my father said,


“If someone hears your voice, they will think that I don’t know how to raise a daughter!”

When I was an adult, again I tried to open up. I spoke to my husband.

But my husband said,


“You are not a small child. You are a wife. Be responsible. You are supposed to take care of our family!”

When I was a mother, again I tried to open up. My son joined in a hostel and I called my son.

But my son said,


“How can you expect me to listen to your stories? I have so many things to do!”

After I became a grand mother, again I tried to open up. I whispered. I realized that my voice was not audible as before.

But my grandson said,


“You don’t know how to speak! In fact, you don’t know anything!”

Now I am sleeping silently in my grave…

And my truths are sleeping silently within me…

People say “REST IN PEACE”

But I hear, “SHUT UP!”

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