All throughout my way I came across many people, most of them are women don’t really mean that I am a feminist or an activist. As a girl I always loved to live in my dreams, the world always seemed to be like a fantasy where I am the queen and I am the princess. If someone asks me “who inspired you the most?” maybe I can point many even that old lady who used to sell buttermilk on the platform of a small railway station .I have met her many times at the same old railway station on my way to school, she always kept on running toward each and every train with a hope that someone will take a bottle from her and that she can make it for today. She is older than my grandmother who is enjoying life with her children and grand children. I have never seen such happiness in her.Her eyes always raised many questions towards me as if life has never done justice to her. I can read a deep loneliness in her eyes, but when the train stops at the station she hides everything under a beautiful smile and walks away saying…….. “Buttermilk…Buttermilk”. Her old face has haunted me for days even now, when I have to walk through the darker side of my life. She has taught me to defeat it with a beautiful smile and to be a fighter, a real fighter with strong thoughts.

When I was a small girl I just loved to hang around with my great grandmother who is my grandmother’s mother. She is the person who taught me how to chase my dreams. She had two sisters both of them are elder than her. Her eldest sister passed away when I was only one year old so I don’t have many memories with her, I remember only the things which my great grandmother told. She was a self-made women a true rebel, she never listened to her husband or her two grown up boys .she always loved to enjoy life in all its spirit. She never bowed her head in front of others for any favors. She has always shown the boldness to accept life as how it comes to her. She was a true rebel in all sense. The middle one is entirely different from the other two. When I think about her the thing that comes into my mind first is the four teeth’s at the front raw of her upper jaw, that’s the only remains left in her mouth. She is the softer side and is shorter than the other two, she never complained about anything. I have never seen her sit idle; she is very energetic she always keeps herself engaged in daily works. she loves to speak about her childhood .She got married when she was only eleven years old, I have never heard her cursing anyone for forcing her to marry at a very early age, and on the other hands she told me that on her first night she played with her husband like how she used to play with her sisters. I tried to imagine myself in her place. “Will I also play like that with my husband on my first night when I am only eleven”, or starts to cry louder as I wanted to get back home, on my mom’s lap. Among the three sisters youngest one is my great grandmother who got married to a soldier. I have seen her blushing upon her love whenever I asked her about my great grandfather. She told me that he was such a handsome guy that ladies of her times wanted to fall in love with him. But everything went off when I asked my grandmother about her father. She told me, “He is a normal looking person with a beautiful heart”. If so then why she lied to me about her husband…I could not find the answer to that question until I become a wife .I couldn’t understand the meaning of her lies at the age of ten, but now when I am at her place I know that it was her endless love towards her husband which came through her words….All three of these ladies have taught me how to approach life in different ways.

Will you get surprised if I tell you that there lived a feminist in my family at 1940’s? Yes she was the most beautiful lady who was ever born to my family .I have heard people saying that, “she was the perfect symbol of womanhood”. Even after her death it took months for her hairs to get decayed, as she has got hairs which will reach up to her knees. She was considered as the icon of beauty by all her friends and relatives. She was always against marriage, as for her marriage is a barrier between her and her independence. At the age of fifteen her brother’s compelled her to marry a man who is double her age. She doesn’t have any other choice as in those times the words of women are not taken into consideration by any male members of the family. But she was different there occurred a fight between her and her inner soul, after all those protest she won .On the fifth day of her marriage she publicly announced her victory. She threw away all the remaining of her marriage on a broomstick and walked away as a warrior does after his victory in a war. From her I learned that women do have a freedom of choice, no one in this world have the rights to put a lead on the dreams of a women…

After all this year’s life has taken many twist and turn. I know that I can never be the same little girl again, whose loves to hear stories. If some day I get a chance to meet god I will surely ask him to give back my childhood .Not because thing seems to be more simpler when you are a child, but because you had all the rights to scream, to shout, to cry whenever you need to without anyone blaming you for not being so strong in life. You just don’t need to hide your tears behind your pillows, you can scream louder if you got hurt, you can cry if you are alone or if you are afraid. I still remember the first day of my school. The whole world had started to change around me, but I was not afraid as I saw my mom standing outside my classroom. For a child her mother is always a super women and she believes that nothing can happen to her if her mother is around. All of a sudden things surrounding me started to change I was given a new title by all the elder members of my family “grown-up”. The title “grown-up” took away all of my rights, and taught me a new word “responsibility”. Responsibility and society are two words which are correlated. Now I have to shape up my thoughts and actions in favor of other only to get recognized as “grown-up”. I don’t mind to give back this title, if I will get back all my rights…

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.