The breeze envelops her in its arms and she runs in the open field in front of her but in her mind. She can’t fly, so they say. She is not allowed to think big, so they say. She can’t have dreams in her eyes, so they say. She is made for household work, so they say. She is married now, so they say. She is a girl, so they say.
‘Cake? Pastry? Chocolate? Muffin? What you want dear? Tell me? Why are you angry? You are my sweetheart child; tell me, what do you want? You can eat whatever you want?’
She saw her grandmother pampering her elder brother to the fullest. She climbed on her bed and asked, ‘Granny I also want a chocolate.’ ‘No. This is not for you. You are again behaving like a spoilt child. Always want to have something. Go and be with your mother.’ Her grandmother reprimanded her and with a small face a girl of three years left the room.