Who am I?

Who am I - A mother, a wife, a daughter, a sister… or someone who has been trying to figure it all out for a long time now?

I am someone.

And yet, my identity has always been a question to me. What is the point of my life? What were my dreams? And what am I actually doing?

My name, my age, my religion, my ethnicity, or anything else - they don’t matter anymore. What matters is this story, what I’ve lived through, what I’ve got to share, and my voice. 

Today I am a homemaker and a mother of 2 kids. I have learnt to be satisfied and be happy in what I have and not what I want. The only question that crosses my mind - is life nothing but a compromise, maybe you as readers of my story can tell me about it.

What happened?

The story began in Kanpur,  in the year 1975. 

You know today’s society - so probably it’s not that hard to imagine what things were like back then. In the midst of those old-school mindsets. I was labeled as bold and open-minded. But only my heart and I truly know how I lived through it all. 

First my father and brother, then my husband and son - the shadows of these men fell over my dreams. Not because they meant to, but perhaps because I lost myself somewhere in the process of molding into the so-called norms of society.

I had countless dreams.
One of them was to become a lawyer - to wear that black coat.
If I had been able to wear it back then, I wouldn;t be fighting the case of my dreams today. 

By the way, it wasn’t my lack of ability that kept me from practicing law - it was my elder brother’s so-called care.

He said, “Those are night classes you are talking about, you are a girl how would you manage it?”

I still remember one incident from my college days. I used to walk to college with two of my friends. Back then, boys would sit along the road and tease us as we passed by. I was considered a stylish girl for that time - I loved dressing up in frocks, skirts, and other fashionable clothes. 

Then, one day, my friends suddenly stopped coming with me. I confronted them and asked, “Why have you both stopped coming?” They replied, “Whenever we’re out with you, the boys tease us.” That day, it felt like being beautiful was a curse. I was enraged. I went straight to the police station near my house and told an officer, “you should get up from that chair right now - you’re warming it while boys out there are making our lives miserable!”

To his credit, that officer did help us at that time.Through this whole episode, he and my family got to know each other better. He would often say to my father,

“Dixit ji, you should get your daughter into the police force - she has it in her to be an inspector.”
His words lit the spark within me, I began preparing for the SSC PCO exams. But this time, my father didn’t even let me fill out the exam form. He said, “Why would you join the police force? What do you lack in my household? If you want to do something, do it after marriage - in your husband’s home. While you’re in  my house, just live and enjoy.”

That was the day I wondered - Does this house only belong to my father and brother? Do we, the daughters, have no rights in it at all?

Life Assigned Me Roles?

After all this, I opened a parlor - just to do something of my own, to find a little space in life that belonged to me. But soon, I was considered “eligible for marriage” by society’s standards, my marriage was arranged - and I had to leave everything behind, right at the beginning. My father told me, “You can always work when you’re with your in-laws.” My husband supported me, but my mother-in-law never did.

Eventually, my husband and I went against her wishes, and I started working again. Somehow, things moved forward.

Then came another chapter - I was pregnant with my first child when I suffered from a slipped disc.  By the time I recovered and stood tall again, life took some other routes for me. My husband, my children, and I had to leave my in-laws’ house. 

Later, when my parents needed me, we moved in with them.
In 2013, my husband began struggling with a back injury.
At that time, I often found myself wondering - Who am I?

And what should I take care of first - my responsibilities as a mother, a daughter, or a wife?

It was a difficult time - emotionally, physically, and financially.
And even today, I find myself searching for that shock, that moment of financial security that's often called “women’s wealth.”

But I had to use it - for my children’s education. 

And for that, I have no regrets. 

Still Dreaming

There’s a lot more I could tell you, but perhaps today, even my words feel tired. This story is still incomplete - but maybe, we can complete it another day. 

Didn’t I tell you at the beginning that I have two children? One of them is my daughter. Just like I once had a thousand dreams, she has her own too.
And all I want is that she never has to go and figure it all out all by herself - I take that responsibility. 

At the beginning of this story, I asked a question about my identity. Today, I think I have my answer.

I am me.

And within me, I carry all my relationships. All my responsibilities. And above all, I am a woman - a woman who never gave up, and never backed down, despite everything. 

Maybe one day I’ll write a book about myself. Or maybe I’ll write a hundred letters to the girl I used to be. Because I’m still trying. And I haven’t forgotten how to dream.

Once a dreamer, always a dreamer - even if the detour was long. 

So I’ll leave you with a thought of my own:
I may not have it all figured out, but I’ve finally remembered - I was never just a homemaker. I was always home to the dreams yet to be lived.