My Mother …

Written by: Gayathiri Sivakumar

When I was a little girl, my mother told me that if I studied well, maintained my fair skin, and was a ‘good’ girl, did not talk to boys, I would land myself a Prince. She said, if I grew up with how she suggested, then everyone would want to marry me. I dutifully followed her command, after all, I wanted to ensure that I married a Prince. I maintained my A-student status, I stayed out of the sun, I was polite, obedient and meek, and I hardly talked to boys (unless it was school-related).Until I was in high school that is. It was then at some point, where I felt like I was not living my own life. It felt like I was living out my mother’s life. I felt entrapped, although I was a young teenager, here I was, pretending to be someone I was really not. This feeling was really brought on when my mother began to parade me around to the community, letting them know what a catch I was. But it was all superficial. I met boys like myself, successful, but unhappy. Puppets really. I felt like how Jeyam Ravi felt in Santhosh Subramanium. I felt I had to please her.

I resented my mother. I blamed her continuously, I felt like she was the cause of my unhappiness. I felt that I lived a sheltered life, one where I was made into a socially awkward person, despite being born in Canada, was because of her repressive nature. I knew nothing of the popular bands, brands, or anything – I was totally forbidden from particiapting in normal activities as such. I felt like I was reprived of life and happiness because of the sheltered life she raised me in.