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The quest

Discussion in 'Stories (Fiction)' started by satchitananda, Apr 1, 2016.

  1. satchitananda

    satchitananda Moderator Staff Member IL Hall of Fame

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    Dear friends, here is a story I wrote a long while ago. It is a long story and for ease of reading, I have divided it into 9 posts.

    12:00 am


    The muted light from the lamps cast beautiful webs of shadow on the walls, as they lit up the room from under exquisite lamp shades. Anita sat on her bed, propped up against a pillow, staring vacantly into space. A copy of “Conversations with God” lay limply on her lap. A gentle sea breeze drifted in through the window of the hotel room. The sounds of the Mumbai traffic could be heard even at this late hour.

    Tired of sitting still, she eventually got up and walked over the sea facing window of her room and looked out. It was a beautiful sight. The street lamps lining the 4.3 km long Marine Drive in South Mumbai, traced a semi-circular pattern along the coast; seen from this height they resembled a string of pearls, thus earning the sobriquet “The Queen’s Necklace”.

    Why was she feeling so restless? This was after all supposed to be her ‘home’, the place where she made her debut into this world. That circumstances and fate ensured that she was taken away from here to grow up in a totally alien world was another matter altogether.

    A deep sigh escaped her lips as she thought about the chapters she had just been reading. She found it hard to digest that someone could claim to have had a conversation with God. He claimed he asked a question, his pen poised on a piece of paper and the answers came flowing out as words on the piece of paper. Could she really believe it? Is it really so easy to have a tȇte a tȇte with God? Of course, it could always be a one-sided ‘conversation’, but to get God to answer! Well, that was a bit far-fetched, she reflected. Her head was a cess-pool of millions of unanswered questions. Why could she not get easy answers to those? Did God love her less than He did the author of the book? Why would He not talk to her?
     
    Last edited: Apr 1, 2016
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  2. satchitananda

    satchitananda Moderator Staff Member IL Hall of Fame

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    Her mind went back to the time she was barely 5 years old. Anita had always wondered why she looked so different from her younger sister Matty and her parents, Sarah and Alex Kinley. Every time she asked, her parents would tell her God had created her the way He thought she looked nicest. They took special care to ensure that she never felt unloved or neglected. Apart from these moments, Anita had a completely normal childhood.

    Sarah and Alex had always been avowed Indophiles and had gone there on a holiday twenty years ago. During their stay in Mumbai, they visited the “Sacred Heart Orphanage”. Their attention was drawn to a 6 month old baby who lay in her crib, sucking her thumb and looking lost. She looked angelic with her large eyes, curly black hair and dark skin. They went up to her crib and Sarah stretched out her fingers to touch the baby’s soft cheeks. The baby immediately held onto her finger and gurgled and gave her a toothless smile. Sarah and Alex were totally floored by this baby’s charm and decided there and then to take her home. After considerable thought and some elaborate adoption procedures, they brought her back with them to Sydney. They decided to name her Anita, a name common to both, the Indian as well as Western culture.
     
  3. satchitananda

    satchitananda Moderator Staff Member IL Hall of Fame

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    Anita went to school at the age of five, as is the norm in Australia. Although she was raised to be completely Australian, the external differences between her and her family were only too obvious. In the manner of children, who can be extremely cruel, her school mates had teased and bullied her mercilessly. They made fun of the colour of her skin and kept telling her she was not her parents’ child.

    One day, when things got too bad at school, Anita came home crying. She had been very moody of late. Her parents wanted to know what had happened.

    “I am not your child. You are not my parents” she sobbed, tears coursing down her cheeks.

    Sara and Alex were totally stunned. It wasn’t as if they had not known that this day would come, but it was no less of a shock when it actually happened. Though they had braced themselves to face this question, they had hoped they could discuss this with Anita when she was a little older in a manner in which she could understand.

    “What happened darling? Why are you so upset? Of course, we are your parents.”

    “No, Janet and Mike told me you were not my parents.”

    The time had come to be honest.

    “Well, darling, come sit down. First things first. You must be hungry. Would you like to eat some pasta? If you eat up your pasta, I will tell you a little story after that.”

    You don’t love me. I am not your child.”

    “Anita, darling, be reasonable now. Eat up your pasta” said Sarah in a gentle but firm tone.

    After considerable cajoling, Anita managed to eat up most of it.

    It was time for the “little story” now.

    “Now, that’s a good girl. Come, sweetheart, now I shall tell you a story” said Sarah.

    Anita, Sarah and Alex settled down on the big sofa in the living room.

    “Long, long time ago, when Mom and Dad got married, they lived happily together in this house. Mom was busy with her work and Dad was very happy working in his clinic. A few years went by. Mom and Dad started wishing they had a little baby at home. So they prayed to God to send them a little girl, who would make them very happy.”

    Sarah looked at Alex and he took over from there. “One day, when Mom and Dad were travelling in India, they came across a little baby, who was only six months old. She looked very cute and had lovely big eyes, dark, curly hair and a beautiful smile. When she smiled, her eyes twinkled and the sun shone brighter. Mom and Dad fell in love with the little girl. This was God’s answer to their prayers. They brought the little girl home and named her Anita. Anita, my dear, we love you so much.”

    “Where was I in India?”

    “You were in a place where there were a lot of little babies and children.”

    “Were my real mother and father also there?”

    “No, my dear, we don’t know where they were. You were taken care of by nuns. Now if anyone asks you about your parents, tell them they love you a lot.”

    Anita was satisfied with that explanation and went off to watch cartoons on telly.

    The years went by. Anita grew up to be a typical teen. She did everything she could, to fit into her peer group. In fact she went two steps further to prove she was one of ‘them’ and that she was ‘cool’. She’d smoke on the sly or occasionally part take of a beer which a classmate might have sneaked in. She had got a brightly coloured Medusa tattooed on her right arm and had her nose and eyebrow pierced.

    Sarah and Alex took it all in their stride and tried to help Anita to the best of their ability. When things got too difficult for them, they decided to talk to a counsellor.

    “This is an identity crisis. Anita does not have much contact with people of her ethnic origin. Maybe introducing her to Indian families here would help, if they could familiarize her with some of the Indian customs and traditions. It might help her develop a cultural identity” was the counsellor’s suggestion.
     
  4. satchitananda

    satchitananda Moderator Staff Member IL Hall of Fame

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    The Kinleys got in touch with an Indian Cultural Association in Sydney. Diwali, the Indian festival of lights was just a couple of months away and there would be grand celebrations at the Association. They got introduced to some of the Indian families who would be there and started socializing with them. Each time they would take Anita with them. Anita’s reactions swung from typical teenage attitude to innate curiosity. She would put on a most disinterested air, but her eyes and ears would take in everything she saw and heard on these occasions. She got to know some of the young people who were second generation Indians in Australia. There she found some common ground.

    As time went by, Anita gradually started getting more and more interested in knowing more about the country of her origin. The Indian families provided her with a lot of exposure to customs and traditions, but one question remained unanswered. Anita wanted to seek out her biological parents. Who were they? Where did they live? What were they like? Why did they give her up for adoption?

    After she finished school, Anita moved onto University to study Indian Philosophy, History and Culture. Here, too, she got an opportunity to get to know other Indian students who had come over to Australia for higher studies. The more she studied and the more exposure she got to Indians and Indian culture, the greater was the motivation for Anita to visit India and search for her roots.

    Finally, she decided to visit India after she completed graduation. The Kinleys, though anxious for her safety, decided to let her go. They got some contacts in Mumbai through their friends and acquaintances in Australia, people who could make Anita feel at home and help her in case of any emergency or crisis.

    Now, after almost six months of preparations, here she was, standing by the window of a hotel on Marine Drive.

    *****​
     
    Last edited: Apr 1, 2016
  5. satchitananda

    satchitananda Moderator Staff Member IL Hall of Fame

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    10 am

    Anita woke up with a start. She had been standing at the window for quite a while last night, till she was tired and retired to bed. That was at around 1 am. She looked up at the clock. “**** in’ ‘ell”! She cussed. “I’m so bloody late! Am supposed to be meeting those folks down at the orphanage at 11.30.”

    She hauled herself out of bed and had a quick shower. She pulled on a faded red T-shirt and an even more faded pair of old jeans. She quickly smoothed down her short hair and set out on her mission.

    She walked out of the hotel and got into the cab which had hired last night. “Sacred Heart Convent, Churchgate” she told the driver. It was a short drive and they were there in fifteen minutes. Anita got out and walked in through the ancient wrought iron gates of the convent, built during the British rule. The building was an old, stone building built in typical colonial style. She entered the building and looked around. A board hanging over a door way indicated that the administrative office was to the left. She entered and inquired where the orphanage was. She was directed to a building across an open play ground. The sun beat down mercilessly and the air was heavy with humidity. Sweating profusely, Anita walked across to the orphanage and asked the security guard for the administrative office.

    She was directed to a large room up one flight of stone stairway. The doors of the office were made of heavy teak wood. The room had a high ceiling and a few old fans hanging from wooden beams creaked rheumatically. A few people sat at tables all around the room. Anita walked up to the one sitting nearest to the door and pulled out her documents. She informed him that she had been brought to this orphanage as a baby and wanted to get some information about her parents. He took a look at the papers and directed her to an official seated inside a segregated, open cabin.

    The board outside the cabin read Mrs. Amy D’Souza. Anita stood at the entrance to the cabin and cleared her throat to announce her presence. Mrs. D’Souza looked up. She was a severe looking, middle aged lady, wearing her hair in a tight bun.

    “Yes? She asked, looking over her square glasses.

    “I’m Anita Kinley and have come all the way from Sydney. I am looking for information.”

    “Take a seat” she said, indicating the chair in front of her with a nod of her head. “Yes, how can I help you?”

    “I am Anita Kinley from Sydney. I was adopted from this home twenty years ago by Mr. and Mrs. Kinley from Australia. I am trying to find out more about my roots and am looking for my biological parents. I would be glad if you could help me do that.”

    Mrs. D’Souza pushed her glasses up her nose and looked sharply at Anita. There was a brief silence. She did not look very happy at the idea.

    “I am afraid I cannot really reveal the identity of the parents. It is against our policy” she said rather brusquely.

    Anita looked a little disconcerted. She was too shocked to speak. After all these years of wanting to know, all the efforts she had made, all the heartache she had gone through, here she was, sitting in front of a bureaucrat who most ruthlessly told her ‘no go’. Nothing she had heard about Indian culture or bureaucracy had taught her how to deal with a situation like this.

    “Madam, I have come all the way from Australia. All these years I have been craving to know more about my birth, my biological parents, my roots..... Please ...!”

    “I’m sorry; I cannot break the rules, no matter where you have come from.”

    Anita, totally broken, left the place in tears. Such insensitivity was totally alien to her. She went back to the hotel room and sat there totally stunned. An hour later, the extension phone in her room rang. She picked it up. It was Alex calling.

    “Hi darling, how are you doing? How are things going?”

    Anita broke down and was barely able to string together a coherent sentence. Alex got worried, hearing her cry.

    “Anita, is everything alright? Why are you crying? Did you go to the orphanage today?”

    Anita narrated the events of the morning as Alex and Sarah listened in on speaker phone.

    “Would you like us to come over to help?” asked Sarah.

    “No, mom, I’ll handle it.”

    They talked to her a while longer, trying to build her up confidence. Before calling off, they reminded Anita of the phone numbers they had given her before she left for Mumbai and asked her to contact Mr. Joseph George, He would surely be able to help. Mr. George had connections in high places and could probably organize things. It was a well known fact: nothing in India moves without some pull and some more push.

    Anita went to the washroom, freshened up, came back and pulled out her mobile. She dialled Mr. George’s number.

    “Good evening Mr. George. This is Anita Kinley from Sydney. We had got your contact number from Mr. Thakur. He must have already told you about me.”

    “Oh yes, yes! Tell me. How can I help you?’

    Anita went over the events of the morning. She sounded so woe-begone, it went straight to Mr. George’s heart. He promised to do something about it and promised he’d call her back.

    That night was the longest one in Anita’s life. To make things worse, she could barely sleep. After tossing and turning for a while, she got dressed and went downstairs. She walked out to the swimming pool and stretched herself out on one of the pool chairs. The air was warm and clammy, but there was a gentle sea breeze blowing. The sky was clear, but the stars were hidden due to the brightness of the city lights.

    Anita felt a bit restless for a while, but then eventually she settled down, relaxed and began to feel drowsy. She went back to her room, dropped into her bed and was off like a lamp.

    *****​
     
    Last edited: Apr 1, 2016
  6. satchitananda

    satchitananda Moderator Staff Member IL Hall of Fame

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    10 am

    Tringggg....tring.....Anita stirred, trying to make sense of the sound. She heard it again through the haze that enveloped her mind. She lay for a moment or two before she slowly came to her senses and opened her eyes. She stretched out her arm and reached for the receiver. It was Mr. George on the line.

    “Anita, I have talked to the Minister. He has promised to intervene in the matter. You can fix an appointment with Mrs. D’Souza for sometime today and go meet her.”

    The words shook Anita out of her half dazed stupor and she sat bolt upright. She stretched out her arms and then got out of bed. A quick shower later she was down in the café, helping herself to a comprehensive continental breakfast. She was starving, having barely eaten a proper bite all of yesterday.

    She called the orphanage and was given an appointment for 2.30 pm

    2.30 pm

    Anita sat facing Mrs. D’Souza in her cabin. The transformation that the lady’s demeanour had undergone overnight had to be seen to be believed. She gave Anita a welcoming smile, walked up to the door, escorted her to the chair and requested her to take a seat.

    The files pertaining to Anita’s case were already on the table. Half an hour later, Anita had the address of her biological parents in her hand - Mr. Bhushanbhai Dalal and Mrs. Rakshaben Dalal, living in Pali Hill. She sent up a silent prayer, hoping her parents had not moved out in the intervening years. She thanked Mrs. D’Souza and left the room. The cab she came in was waiting for her outside the gate. Anita got in and gave the driver the address. Driving towards the destination, Anita was somewhat surprised that her parents lived in such a posh locality. What could have induced them to give her up for adoption? Whatever it was, it was certainly it was not poverty!

    It was not very difficult for the driver to find the address. There was a board outside which read Hetal and Chirag Dalal. Anita was confused and a bit apprehensive. Who were these people? Were they her siblings? Were they her aunt and uncle? Where were her parents?

    She walked up to the main door of the palatial house and rang the bell. There was the sound of barking from inside. A well-dressed lady opened the door. Anita asked for Bhushanbhai and Rakshaben Dalal. She did not say anything but invited her in and led her to a large room which was well furnished with comfortable sofas and chairs. Anita took a seat and looked around. The room was done up in an interesting combination of ethnic and Western decor. The walls were decorated with beautiful paintings. The family seemed to be very rich.

    Time seemed to be dragging on. A quarter of an hour elapsed before an elegantly dressed lady walked in. She was around twenty five years of age, wore a crisply starched bandhani cotton saree and had long hair that cascaded down her shoulders. She looked at Anita questioningly. Anita stood up and joined the palms of her hands in a formal “Namaste” the way she had been told was the way it was done in India. The lady folded her hands in reply.

    “I am Anita Kinley. I have come from Australia in search of my biological parents. I had been to the Sacred Heart Orphanage from where I was adopted twenty years ago. I was told that my biological parents lived here and that their names were Bhushanbhai and Rakshaben Dalal. I have waited very long for this day and would like to meet and get to know them.”

    After a long, awkward silence during which she appraised Anita, the lady spoke:

    “I am Hetal Dalal. I am their daughter-in-law. Ba is not keeping well. Bapuji has gone out.”

    “Can I meet my mother ... er... Ba?”

    Hetal was silent. If she had felt any shock, she did not allow it to show on her face.

    “I’ll have to ask her” she replied.

    Hetal was back in ten minutes with a middle-aged lady, aged around 50-55 years old. The lady was dressed in a cotton saree, with the pallu drawn over her head like a scarf. There were fine lines and dark circles around her eyes. She looked rather frail and her face spoke of a harsh existence. She looked at Anita through her glasses. Did Anita see her eyes glistening?

    “Namaste” said Anita, overwhelmed. She did not know what to say. Words failed her. Her mother folded her hands silently and continued to look at her. There was no trace of a smile or welcome on her face.

    A few moments passed before Rakshaben turned and asked Hetal to leave Anita and her alone. Hetal hesitated for a brief moment before she did as she was told.
     
  7. satchitananda

    satchitananda Moderator Staff Member IL Hall of Fame

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    “Why have you come here?” asked Rakshaben sitting down on a sofa. She signalled to Anita to sit next to her.

    Tears welled in Anita’s eyes as she replied “I have so wanted to know who my biological parents were and to connect with my roots. I wanted to know why my parents gave me up. Did you not want me? Did you not love me?”

    Rakshaben did not utter a word. She looked down to hide the tears in her eyes.

    “Do you know how difficult life has been for me? I have been very fortunate to find parents who love me dearly, but my birth, my life, my identity has always been a question mark to me. Who am I? Where do I come from? What are ‘my’ people like? What is my cultural identity? I always tried to rationalize and thought “May be they were very poor and could not afford a child, or may be my parents died, or maybe I was the child of unwed parents and my mother could not keep me.” Do you know how difficult it has been for me to fight my feelings of rejection? But obviously I was wrong on all counts but one. I was unwanted. I want to know the reason why.”

    Rakshaben looked up, pain writ large in her eyes. Struggling to control her tears and to keep her voice steady, she replied “If you are done with your accusations, would you care to listen to my story?” Anita gave an imperceptible nod.

    “I was born into a lower middle class family in Gujarat. My mother died giving birth to me. I was brought up in a very rigid, strict and repressive environment by my paternal grandparents. Those were days when daughters were ‘meant to be seen, not heard’. I was given only the basic minimum education and married off at the age of eighteen. The years in between my passing out of school and getting married were spent in learning how to cook, clean and keep house. Your father belonged to a business family. Although they had a business, they were not particularly well-to-do. We lived with his parents. They were very conservative and I had no voice in the home. I was expected to be the quiet daughter-in-law who took orders, served her parents-in-law and husband. Visits to my parents were restricted to festivals.

    I had my first baby at the age of nineteen. It was a still-born baby boy. Next year I went through another pregnancy, which ended in a miscarriage. This was followed by two more miscarriages. Rakshaben’s voice was very low and tears flowed down her cheeks. We had given hopes of ever having children. I was ridiculed in society and faced endless barbs. Your brother, Chirag, was born to me when I was twenty five and there was much rejoicing in the family. My peace, however, was short lived. The pressure to have another child kept increasing. Another five hellish years later, you were born, much to the disappointment of your grandparents. They made a big issue of the fact that I had given birth to a girl. They wanted a boy. A girl would get eventually get married, go off to another family and carry on their family name. All a daughter meant, from their perspective, was a lot of expense. We would have to get her married and pay a hefty dowry. The pressure on me was intolerable. I had nowhere to go. My grandparents had passed away by then and my father was old and lived with my brother and sister-in-law. I had no one to give me any moral or financial support. I was not educated enough to leave the house and stand on my own two feet. I was not financially empowered. Situations in the house were such that I feared for your life. I had no option but to give you up to the orphanage in the hope that you would find a good home where you would get all the love and care that was your birthright.”

    Saying that, Rakshaben broke down. There was complete silence. Anita was stunned by what she had just heard.

    “How did Bapuji allow this to happen?” she broke the silence after a while.

    “He was a typical, obedient Indian son, who would not say a word against his parents or their decisions. Their word was the law.”

    “You say you have had a rough time all these years, do you realize what I have gone through?” asked Rakshaben. There has not been a moment when I have not thought about you, wondered where and how you were..... We tried to find out after your grandparents had passed on, but we could not get any information.”

    Just then, the door bell rang loudly and a portly, grey haired man, wearing a formal suit walked in. He was around sixty. He looked at Anita and then questioningly at Rakshaben. Her tear streaked face alarmed him.

    “What happened? Who is this girl? Why are you crying?” he asked Rakshaben in Gujarati.

    “She has come back. She is still alive and lives in Australia” said Rakshaben in a subdued voice. Her look told Bhushanbhai everything. He looked at Anita as if he had seen a ghost.

    After a while, he introduced himself to his daughter. This was followed by a litany of questions, denunciations, remorse and apologies.

    Hetal walked in along with the domestic help who brought in a tray of tea and snacks for everyone. There was silence as the trio, emotionally exhausted, ate what was offered. Hetal withdrew discreetly, giving her parents-in-law and newly found sister-in-law their privacy.

    After a while, Bhushanbhai broke the silence and asked Anita about her life, her family, her education and future plans. He filled in Anita on details about her family of birth and her relatives. He showed her pictures of the members of the extended family. He told her about the tough path to success he had trodden - the path which had brought them from a middle class home in a small town in Gujarat to Pali Hill in Mumbai. He called out to Hetal to come and join them. Hetal was pleasant enough to converse with. She had got married recently after graduating from college. As in traditional families, she stayed at home and had no intentions of going out to work. Chirag was away on business in Ahmedabad and would be returning in a couple of days.
     
  8. satchitananda

    satchitananda Moderator Staff Member IL Hall of Fame

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    10:00 pm

    After an evening spent catching up on years past, the family sat down to dinner. This was the first time Anita tasted authentic Gujarati food and that, “at home”. After dinner, she said she wanted to return to the hotel. Bhushanbhai and Rakshaben tried to prevail on her to stay over at their place. She politely declined, saying she had booked her room at the hotel and all her belongings were there. After much discussion, it was agreed that she would check out of the hotel the next day and come to the Dalal’s residence and stay there till she went back to Australia.

    *****​

    Anita returned to the hotel that night and slept soundly, something she had not done in years. She had some confused dreams where Australia, Pali Hill, the Kinleys and the Dalals were all mixed up.

    The next day dawned bright and clear. Anita shook her head as she pulled herself up in bed. Everything seemed so surreal. The quest for her biological parents was over. She had finally found them. All her assumptions about their financial status and the probably reasons for their giving her up for adoption had been blown to smithereens. She could scarcely believe what she had heard. She had read a lot about the preference for male offspring in Asian countries, but it was always something that happened to others. To think this had happened to her..... She could just not believe it.

    Anyway, she had to check out of the hotel and go over to stay at their place. Part of her was curious and wanted to be with them so she could get to know them and their lifestyle better. The connections of blood beckoned strongly. On the other hand, she was not so sure she wanted to get too close to people who had abandoned her because of her gender, because of who she was, because of something she had no control over and because of something that was just not her fault.

    It was around 10 am when Alex called. Both, he and Sarah had been rather worried about Anita all of yesterday. She had not called back either.

    Sarah gave them a detailed account of all that had transpired the previous day. It was a very emotional moment when she revealed to them the reason why she had been given away. Sarah and Alex just listened quietly without interrupting or commenting. If they were shocked, they did not let Anita sense it.

    “Dad, Mom, I don’t know what I want to do. Part of me wants to go and get to know them better. Another part of me resents the way I was treated as an infant and I wonder why they want me to stay with them now. I don’t know if I can love them or forgive them. I don’t even know whether digging into my past was such a good idea after all. Would it have been better to leave well alone?”

    “It’s too late to think of all that honey. Never look back or regret your actions. It is not going to change anything. Life cannot be lived in retrospect. Look at it this way: one big question which has haunted you all these years has finally been answered. You now have an opportunity to make peace with your past. Don’t carry around unnecessary baggage of regret and anger with you. It’s not going to help anyone, least of all you. Let go of the past. Neither you, nor we can ever understand their circumstances in its entirety. Their life and culture are totally alien to us. So take what they tell you at face value. Accept it and also accept the fact that they probably want to make amends. Times change, people change. Forgiveness is the only way forward for you darling.” Alex tried to comfort Anita, while Sarah held his hand giving him the strength to deal with this emotionally charged conversation.
     
  9. satchitananda

    satchitananda Moderator Staff Member IL Hall of Fame

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    Let go of the past. Forgiveness is the only way forward for you.” Anita kept reflecting on these bits of well-meant advice from her parents. It certainly was not going to be easy. It would take her some time to accept that she had been a victim of gender discrimination. It would take a longer while to forgive her biological parents for failing to keep and protect her.

    It was certainly good to have a sense of closure after all these years. However, it was a strange position to be in. Here she was going to spend time with the biological parents she had been hankering to meet all these years. On the other hand, thousands of kilometres away, she had a family – her adoptive parents and a sister. In reality, the “adoptive” family was “her own” while her biological parents and brother were complete strangers.

    Anita let out a deep sigh. Why did life have to be so complicated? After thinking over things for a while, she made up her mind. She would willingly spend the rest of her stay in India with the Dalals and try to get to know them and their ways better. However, at the end of the day, she would go back to the life she knew, to the people who had loved and cherished her more than her own biological parents, away from the shadow of a misogynistic society which had shunned her at birth. The Kinleys were her family and would always remain so. She would keep in touch with the Dalals in the future and hopefully, given time and space, old wounds would heal and she would visit them whenever time permitted. Perhaps there would come a day when she might be able to let bygones be bygones and be happy to have two families in two different continents to call her own. She would then be a citizen of the global village in the truest sense of the term.
     
  10. vaidehi71

    vaidehi71 IL Hall of Fame

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    Satchi,

    I thought it is a snippet and started reading few sentences, then I saw it is a story:).

    I will read it Satchi later, as I am not reading any stories currently, especially if long as not having much time.

    Good to see you here though, I am not aware that you write stories as well.

    Regards,
    Vaidehi
     
    kaniths and satchitananda like this.

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