By Kavita Sarin

September 20. 2021

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Lying awake in bed

At the ripe old age of sixteen

I realised

For the very first time

That only a brick wall

Separated me

From the tumultuous madness

That ensued in the room next door.

It really was the very first time

I realized and became aware

That my otherwise loving father

Was somewhat of a brute.

A bogeyman who appeared

Only in front of my mother

Only at night

Only within the confines of their room!

Years of being told

“I have very sensitive skin”

As a response to queries about

The purple-blue bruises,

Had led me to believe her.

I had often said I was glad

I hadn’t taken after her.

And just as often, she would say

“Well, I hope so,” and then

Under her breath, mutter something.

I now realize she said, “Touch Wood!

I should hope not!”

My anger, strangely, wasn’t directed at him.

It was Mum I was angry with!

I trusted her: she broke my trust.

She lied and hid the truth!

My sixteen year old self believed

I had been wronged! By her!

That changed. And how!

I understand now

Her shame, her fear, her helplessness!

She didn’t want to betray him

In front of his children

His friends or family.

Even then, she took it upon herself.

I understand now

Her penchant for wearing purple

Shades of blue and at times, red.

I understand now

Why she wore sarees wrapped around her shoulders Why she wore long-sleeved blouses,

Why she walked around with her eyes to the ground Why she pretended to have fallen, tripped, walked into a wall. I understand completely now.

You see, since I was married

I’ve taken to wearing red, blue and purple

Saree wrapped tightly around my long-sleeved blouses Also, with my eyes lowered to the ground.

My husband often jokes

“She’s terribly accident-prone!”

And my mother……

“Touch Wood! She died a year ago!”