By Aparna Dhyani
A curse she was never allowed to blame on anyone.
Something felt wrong inside—but why?
She was given wings to fly, yet the sky came with invisible limits.
Educated, yes, but stripped of the pride and confidence that should have followed.
Taught to nurture, to build, to care—
Yet never told to begin with herself.
Her potential matched any,
Yet she bore the weight of proving she was worthy of it.
The money spent on her?
An investment.
She longed to carve out her own name, but guilt clung to her, whispering,
"How could you abandon your responsibilities just to chase your own dreams?"
When guests arrived, she stepped into the kitchen.
Her brother remained carefree among them,
While she served, smiled, and cleaned.
Her contributions were seen as duty,
Her academic success reduced to the money spent on her education,
And her opinions never a priority.
Her inner voice rarely spoke.
"You have big goals? Great… but work twice as hard, prove yourself constantly, and never rest—because you haven’t earned that yet. And don’t forget, perfection is expected."
Her place at the table was a battle—waiting until all had eaten,
Then carving out the last scraps of space.
Her training was never just about survival.
It was about understanding, about compromise—
Always stretching, always bending.
She thrived, yes,
But by nightfall, she was drained.
Her hard work went unnoticed, but the moment she stumbled, they asked,
"If you can’t handle it, why even bother?"
Her success was never her own—
Always credited to those who claimed to have "allowed" it,
As if her achievements were gifts, not her own making.
In her constant effort to prove her worth, she didn’t realize she was losing herself.
Desired, yet never truly accepted.
Her beauty was never hers to embrace—
Only a measure of how well she met others' expectations.
Not the pride of the family,
But an obligation passed along,
Too high-maintenance to keep.
She wanted to love and care—
Not out of duty, but out of choice.
Yet her fertility became her identity,
A role she never had the power to define.
She built a home with all her heart,
Yet never had the right to own it.
And when asked if she had any regrets, she simply said:
"If I had a choice before birth,
I wouldn’t have chosen this gender."