Today it was very difficult for me to control myself when I saw that man falling at your feet and thanking you for giving you all that money for his daughter’s wedding. And when I heard him say “you are God”, I felt like slapping the man for uttering such nonsense. How miserly we are, someone who throws their remnants at us becomes the almighty for us.
I know you think you are the perfect man. I know you help every damn person. I know that you are filthy rich. I know that you worship God, do all the ‘good deeds,’ abstain from alcohol and illicit sex, eat only sattvic food and chant verses from scriptures. I know that you love your daughter.
But man, hold on, there are a lot of other things I know too. I know that you had your second child aborted because she was a girl baby. The pictures of the Hyderabad trip that you show your little baby girl, I know that those pictures were clicked when you had been to a so called doctor to make sure your wife gives birth to a boy this time. Tell me, family pressure or the fact that your elder brother has three daughters already, what is your justification for murdering that little girl? Today you try to hide these secrets from your daughter, the fortunate one who was not aborted, your first child. But for how long do you think you can hide it?
All the restrictions you impose upon your daughter in the name of protection and love. I wonder why she accepts it with all the dignity. Where did all that love go when you got her younger sister aborted? Where does all the love go when your mom tells the girl that she is an unwanted child, a girl in the family after three girls?
Do all the charity, visit all the holy places and wash your sins. It’s as good as wearing an underwear on your pants, like it’ll make you a superman.
I know if you ever read this you’ll wonder how I know so much, your darkest and guarded secrets. Let me tell you something more important. Your daughter knows it too, she is the one who told me everything. And she chose to forgive you. To know that it was your past, maybe you are guilty, maybe not. Don’t worry, she is not angry or disappointed. All she feels is pity. She feels sorry that you are worshipped as God by some, but the sad reality is you lie in the lowly dust.
I don’t care whether you read it or not. I don’t care who reads it. But at times, writing is really necessary so that I can pour the subdued anger somewhere, without causing any harm to anyone.