A Story of My Life

Growing up wasn't easy for me. This is the only statement about myself which I can say with an unshakable conviction, everything else about my past and my life in general is full of uncertainties. When I see countenances of people beaming with confidence, people walking with resolute paces, people uttering words with an affirming look of coherence, I wonder how they can be so certain about themselves. Do they see everything in black and white? Isn't there anything gray in their lives? I just wonder and wonder.

I want to share my story with people not because it is an extraordinary account or it is an entertaining read , perhaps it is just for me , maybe because I want to maintain a log of my life somewhere before it is engulfed by the gray monster in my life . We shall proceed to the story but let me warn you that there is no distinction of evil and good in my story. It is not even a story, it is just a tale of my life and there is nothing black and white in it. There are no heroes and villains in this tale just people with the motives.

So growing up wasn't easy, it really wasn't but I didn't realize back then. I was just a part of a society where people had to face a lot of hardship to meet the both ends. I hail from a small village which is hung on a rocky mountain, an abomination on the face of the mighty mountain. We are sturdy people, tall heights and quite attractive according to the average beauty standards of the world. We lack basic necessities of life, like access to water. In order to quench our thirst we have to transport waters on our heads from the far flung areas of the mountain and it is definitely not an easy task. As I said I never realized that I have a difficult childhood when I was growing up. I grew up in a family of twelve with a step mother and four step siblings. It's a norm to have a large family in the patriarchal society from where I hail.

My father was also a handsome person with tall and sturdy stature. He was a strict figure who never showed affection to his children. He served as a guide for the tourists who visited the area for the sake of its breathtaking scenery. I can't recall any event in my life where my father hugged me, I can even count the events on my fingers when we had a solid eye contact. My mother, on the other hand, was a gentle creature who had perfected the art of making sacrifices throughout her life.

We never celebrated birthdays but somehow we kept the count of our age. I remember when I was 15 I started comparing our life with some clues of luxurious life which I had got from occasional exposure to television. At that time I had decided not to spend my life like my mother which was all about submission and hard work. I, being a reserved child, rarely spoke to anyone but I had rich imaginations of how my life would be in future. Although I had a blinkered vision of a luxury life but from the clues which I had gathered I could imagine myself being a center of attention of many people unlike my present situation where anyone barely noticed my presence or absence.

I grew up to be a fairly attractive girl with a decent stature and beautiful features. I had also started noticing positive changes in my body all of which pointed to the making of a voluptuous young woman. I think now that back then I was a visionary kid who had an urge to develop herself, a desire to progress, which couldn't be tamed but now I realize that my definition of progress was a little skewed. I am still in process of collecting shattered bits and pieces of my personality so forgive my digressions. As a young girl I was determined to make myself known, I craved for attention, back then even my naive mind understood that attention is a luxury item and only fairly blessed people can afford that.

A naïve girl ,growing up in a distant village, a keen urge to not assume the conservative role of the woman defined by the patriarchal society- all these things made me vulnerable to exploitation. It was a bargain of buying a new prison in exchange of a shabbier one.

By the age of 18, I had started to notice changes in my sexuality like a tinge of pink over my cheeks when I found out some boy staring at me. The construction of mud houses on the rocky mountain had ensured lack of privacy among the households since, in most of the cases, roof of one house was the veranda of another house. We had a loo in our house, it was considered a luxury item in our locality, which we used to tend to our natural needs. Interesting thing about the loo was that it didn't have any ceiling perhaps we were not that wealthy to afford it yet but still it was a blessing compared to what other neighbors have to go through to relieve themselves. Although the lack of privacy was consistent throughout my childhood and it had irked me most of the time, but at this in point in time I had rather started to enjoy the attention. One boy who was our neighbor was pretty consistent in peaking when I was in the loo .I didn't mind at all ,perhaps I took pride in myself that I was able to turn some heads.