37) The unwanted girl

“Reshma, go to the kitchen and wash utensils,” was the only yelling I grew up on. Even as an 8 year old girl, I would prepare tea for the family, sweep the rooms and clean the floor after the menfolk have had their food. That was disgusting and would sap my dignity as they would sit cross legged on the floor and that required swiping the hand and making circles over a pinch of cow dung and water.

As to my younger brother, he had all the privileges. He would roam the fields all day with a bat in hand and in studies, invariably in the bottom half. Yet, he was pampered with new clothes on festivals and never ever shouted upon.

We are from Hamirpur in Himachal Pradesh; owning 40 acres and engaged in wheat cultivation for generation. Farming communities preference for males date a long way back for only a son inherits the family name and title and assists the parents in the field: be it handling daily labourers, procuring seeds and fertilizers and finally at the time of sale. Women are restricted to the kitchen and they have little influence on the menfolk. And daughters are often than seen as “paraya dhan” – to be looked after till puberty and then married off to an affluent family.

I was no different and did not see anything amiss despite a mollycoddled brother in the household.

All that changed when I visited my uncle for the first time at Delhi and though only 12; my first tryst with freedom. The women in Delhi surprised me- the lipsticks, jeans, driving cars, those high heels and going with men as equals- as we covered our faces with the top end of the sari. My uncle took me to all the sight seeing attractions and I had the best time of my life going to Appu Ghar and feasting on pani puris.

My uncle and aunt were childless and they showered their love to me. In fact, there was talk of adoption in the family and it never came through, much to my anguish!

My joy knew no bounds when my uncle took me on a flight from Delhi to Kolkata in my next summer vacation. That was my first flight and seeing the airhostess, I knew it was my calling. I loved everything about flying: the gleaming floors of airports, the security, flight announcements and safety procedures and being hospitable to the passengers. I loved their dress and yearned to be in their shoes.

I enrolled in an airhostess academy in Chandigarh and for the next eight months spent honing my communication skills and polishing etiquette. Staying alone as a paying guest,
I worked part time in a call centre while continuing my graduation through correspondence. My parents were aghast at the idea but my uncle at each stage pitched in with this money and influence.

My happiest moment in life was when Jet Airlines offered me a job and my first assignment was on a Bangalore – Delhi flight. My parents were thrilled but my thanks are only to my uncle. I may not officially be his daughter, but as for as I am concerned they are my real parents.

My brother works the field and supports my parents. I do visit them at Hamirpur and ensure that they are happy with the means at my command. Each visit, I would present them a month’s salary so as to be little bit more indulging in household expenses.

I am 20 now and they wish me to get married.

I shake my hand and say,” not before I do my MBA”.