Why do I write?

I was a sensitive kid, the kind who sits in a corner, looks at people, and thinks about why they are doing what they are doing. Being born…

I was a sensitive kid, the kind who sits in a corner, looks at people, and thinks about why they are doing what they are doing. Being born in a fairly conservative family where most of the people were deeply entrenched in their roles, I was shaped majorly by my experiences of being a girl child.

In the town I grew up in, they didn’t kill the girl child when she was born, but they also didn’t celebrate her birth like they did of a male child. After two girls, the third child in most families came in the hope of a boy, someone who could carry the family’s name.

Most of the women around me were homemakers and were financially dependent on their respective partners. I was in ninth class when an elder cousin was getting married. Everyone’s main concern while looking for a suitable groom for her was if her in-laws would ‘allow’ her to work. Now, when I look back, I realise that my motivation to do well at school came from the fact that I didn’t want to be as helpless as the women around me were. I worked really hard so I didn’t have to grow up to become them.

There was an unsaid understanding that the world out there is bad, and I, as a girl, am vulnerable, so I have to always be on alert to protect myself. I have to walk, talk, eat, laugh a certain way to make sure that no one gets a wrong idea about me.

Despite having parents who made sure that I got the best possible education and opportunities, I always knew, even as a five-year-old, that I lived in an unequal world. It bothered me (a lot) and made me see things that most people around me were oblivious to.

So where would this young girl go with all these feelings and realisations?

That’s how and when I started writing. Most of my childhood writing is in Hindi (my mother tongue), and I can’t believe that almost all of it is about being a woman.

Today, when I look back at my younger self, I only want to hug her tight and tell her that it’s going to be okay. That she is going to be okay, and eventually, she will be able to create her own world bit by bit, where she isn't helpless. She will meet people who will accept her and love her for who she is, and she won’t have to force-fit herself into any mould.