Mother of two...Human to none.

Some sacrifices don’t bleed.

They simply fade,day by day,

into routine.

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I grew up in a family that did their best. We(my siblings) not just grew up but actually raised by our elders. They might not be the perfect parent on a generic level but through their shoes, they actually walked miles for us.

But, If you ask, Is this piece that I’m writing, is this about my parents. NO.

This is about the family we saw growing up, hearing them through our window. A working husband, a creative wife & their two kids. Things wasn’t as good as this sounds or look to us. Every day it was chaos, cries, and sometimes creepy silence.I saw those kids growing up in that house.

As a boy turning into a man, Sometimes I could sense the hesitation women hide in their pause beneath words. That lady next door was a sweet beautiful lady, who turned herself in the Ideal Wife mask. The lady I met in my childhood is no more, she is completely different.

The tragedy wasn’t just the marriage she was into, but the fact that her children never noticed her mother sacrificing her life for them. She choose to stay for the kids, probably hid every scares to protect them. I had hope that her child will took her away from this misery, but before that she painted herself as the lady the family wanted, A silent robotic being, who was responsible for the family’s pride

The son is turning out as a manual of his father, the daughter is happy being her sister. Maybe the husband while growing up saw his father & decided to be like him, probably his father was her hero.

That lady never taught her daughter to be independent, not because she didn’t wanted her to be, but because she was aware of the questions & fingers that would be against her.

She knew how quickly a woman becomes the problem for wanting air.She knew freedom is punished before it’s understood.So she taught survival, not rebellion. Silence, not resistance.

Society tagged her as her daughter’s enemy, who is making her just as her.

Who could taught to be independent, free & to fly. But We, who’s already in a position to think all this could never understand her life.

I think in her shoe, she knew it pinches whenever she tried moving towards light. I think she blames her dreams that led her this life.

If you never tasted the sweet. Sour will not be ‘sour‘ to your tongue.

Some sacrifices don’t bleed.

They simply fade,day by day,

into routine.