The Discriminated

Everything was okay in the life of 8-year old Prerna. Until her younger sibling was born.

As an ebullient child with big eyes and continuous chatter, Prerna was a charmer, most of all for her Papa. As the first-born of her parents, Prerna was as much a mission as a gift. She obliged them as much as they doted on her. She did well at studies, at sports, and at general socializing with other children and adults. Her mom often complained about Prerna’s ‘endless’ energy to her father and others. “So what’s wrong in that? It’s lack of energy that should be a concern, isn’t it?” Papa would remark. Filling Prerna with a secret sense of pride. “Stay like this,” he whispered in her ears, hugging and cuddling her at the same time. Papa was her ‘bestest’ friend.

Prerna and Papa were the centre of each other’s universe. When Papa was around, she cared for nothing and nobody else. Not her mom, who was in any case always busy with cooking and housework. Not for her maid Aparna auntie, who she teased everyday by walking over the just-swept wet floor. Not even for Chunnu, her best friend and neighbor. For Prerna, Papa was a hero. He did only the right things, and did everything right. He told her why she should chew her food and explained how saliva and digestive juices take the roti to her blood. He showed her where she stood on a world map, and how she’d not even be a teeny tiny dot on the globe. He told her that fishermen were catching more plastic than fish every day. His stories explained the world to her in a way that she could sit still for hours, to her own amazement. It was because of Papa that Prerna carried a cloth bag when she went out shopping with Mummy. Once, she almost created a ruckus in school because another student had littered. Back home, she narrated the entire incident to papa, including the jealous looks of fellow onlookers. Prerna noticed how Papa had beamed.

A few days later, Chhoti was born.

Finally as the Didi that Papa-Mummy had been preparing her for, Prerna swelled with pride. She distributed toffees in school. She touched Chhoti only after washing her hands. She took her around on a pram, and sang school prayers to lull her to sleep. She even let her share her exclusive time with Papa in the evenings. All was hunky dory in the beginning. Papa even appreciated her for the care with which she dealt with the baby. Though she did feel a pang of jealousy whenever Papa showered his affections on Chhoti, the feeling slowly melted away. It was hard not to love the innocent little gurgling baby sister.

Initially at peace with a rival sibling, something started gnawed at Prerna’s heart. She found herself slowly, but surely, moving to the periphery of Papa’s attention. At first, she brushed it away, telling herself what her parents had told her: That she was to be an elder sister with a new responsibility. But as months passed into years, Prerna noticed that it was no longer about rivalry, it was plain that Papa was differentiating between Chhoti her. She had accepted the equal importance of Chhoti long ago. What she couldn’t and wouldn’t accept was her own devaluation in the process. That’s when she started complaining.

“Papa you always told me that you did important work on your mobile phone at bed time. How come you never do it when Chhoti is there? How come you always remember the work when I am around?”

“Papa I wore the old clothes of Sudhi didi; why do you keep buying new clothes for Chhoti? Why can’t she wear my old clothes? You only said na, that we shouldn’t waste money like this?”

“Papa why did you do the rice eating event for Chhoti? You always said that these are stupid beliefs, and that is why you didn’t do them for me. Why now?”

After all, it was Papa who had encouraged her to ask questions. “A question not asked creates a lot more noise,” he would say. Earlier, he openly praised Prerna for asking questions and being ‘her own girl’.  Not now. He seemed irritated with her questions. In fact, she felt that Papa had started disliking those very things in Prerna that he previously loved. Like her asking questions. Like her jumping around. Like her not leaving him alone for a moment. Prerna even noticed how he gnashed his teeth when she raised an uncomfortable subject. Her heart sank to her feet. Reduced to tears within seconds, she left without waiting for answers.

The fact that Mummy behaved just the same with her and Chhoti was a big relief. Prerna’s resentment towards her mom, for never giving her time and always being busy with chores, no longer bothered her because Mum was the same with both children. And that seemed fair. But Papa? With each act of discrimination done by Papa, another layer of silence piled on between the father and child. Prerna stopped playing with Chunnu. She stopped stomping on the floor cleaned by Aparna auntie. She stopped enjoying school. Suddenly, she felt very very alone.

Then one Sunday, all the hell broke loose. Papa got a Barbie doll for Chhoti because the 2-year old had insisted on it in a store.

Papa. Got. Barbie Doll.

The same Papa who had only bad things to say about Barbie. That Barbie didn’t study or work. That Barbie was just engrossed with useless things like make-up. That Barbie lacked intelligence to do anything other than cooking. Hence, she couldn’t be a toy for smart girls. The same Papa got a Barbie doll home because his younger daughter insisted. THE SAME PAPA. Whose elder daughter kept repeating his moral lectures on Barbie to the world.

It crushed Prerna. She couldn’t bear it. She stormed into Papa’s room in a mad rage of tears and anger. She yelled with the garbled agony of someone who’d been discriminated against long enough to start hating oneself, hating the world. “You are a liar Papa. A liar. A big fat liar. You got Barbie for her. You have always lied to me. A liar…a liar…you…always…said…Barbie was…you…lied…”Convulsive sobs made her speech incoherent. The usually impassive Mummy came running out of kitchen and was aghast to see Prerna in that state. Papa stood motionless where he was. Prerna remained manic in her attack, tears streaming down her neck, hair in disarray, feet stomping on floor, and a mind feverishly out of control. Aparna auntie ran to the hysterical Prerna and pulled her to her bosom. Prerna kept crying…kept talking…kept stomping…as Aparna finally carried her to her room. Before leaving work that evening, Aparna auntie told Papa and Mummy with a face that begged mercy, “If that was my daughter, I would be worried.”

Once the storm passed, the chill crept in. Having lost the fight, Prerna went into a flight mode. She started avoiding Papa actively. Chunnu kept requesting Prerna to play with him, but she couldn’t. She played with Chhoti when she felt like, which was very less. Her report cards in school indicated deterioration. Papa sought her time and again, trying to start a conversation. But it was not the same Papa. He appeared like a guilty person to Prerna, a guilty person who’s looking for someone to pin the blame on. Prerna decided to say nothing. She hoped it hurt him. She was both amazed and pained to see how easily Papa shifted the entire blame on her. “You have become paranoid…an attention-seeker…not loving your younger sister enough…irresponsible brat…,” he often remarked. Right from where they went on Sunday to what they ate every day, Prerna had receded into the background, and no one seemed to notice. Did Papa really not see how he had changed? Did he really not feel the injustice with which he treated Prerna each day? Day and night, in school and at home, awake and in her dreams, this is all that Prerna thought of.

One of those days, in an attempt to make up with Prerna, Papa got a bigger and better Barbie for her. Prerna took the doll to the terrace, and set her hair on fire. She intentionally threw the new and burnt Barbie around the living room. Papa responded with a dismissive face; a look that Prerna was inured to. That evening, Prerna realized that revenge tasted better than dinner.

In March, Prerna’s 11^th birthday was celebrated with cake cutting and kheer, as usual. Papa had never liked pomp and show around birthdays and anniversaries, so a big bang celebration was neither expected nor desired. She was given a new dress, as usual. Papa had stopped pampering her, and Mummy never did that anyway. Cake slices were sent over to Chunnu’s place. Birthday over.

Then came November. Chhoti’s 3^rd birthday. Prerna had no idea of what was in store, and nobody thought it was important to update her. Papa & Mummy had decided to throw a lunch party for friends and family. Papa had decorated the house with buntings, festoons, and balloons. The terrace was totally done in marigold flowers. Papa had arranged outside catering for food. Returning from school, Prerna rubbed her eyes to ensure if she was entering the right house. Aparna auntie saw her coming, and instructed her to quickly go change and join the party. Seeing the decoration with incredulous eyes, Prerna’s face started changing. Red blotches appeared on her cheeks. She looked as if she had just been slapped. 

“Birthday party? For Chhoti?” Prerna could only ask that much. Aparna auntie stopped. Prerna almost spun on her heels in slow motion to absorb the decoration and grandeur of the event. “Who did this?” Prerna asked auntie. “Your Papa..” She muttered with a heavy heart. “Papa decorated the house? Papa is keeping a party?” Prerna was rooted and rotating on the same spot. There was a strange expression in her eyes. She seemed like a building bearing the onslaught of an earthquake with apparent strength. Prerna suddenly felt like she was swallowing stones. She felt a deep stab in her heart; a crippling inability to breathe or even stand. Aparna auntie understood, and advanced to console her. As though touched by lightening, Prerna ran through the crowd, upturning trays of food and drink that came her way, her hair flying out of her band, skirt rustling as she sped, and dashed towards her bathroom. She heard Mummy shouting after her. She put the latch on, turned the water faucet to its full force, and collapsed on the floor.

Lying supine on the bathroom, biting the back of her hand to muffle her screams, Prerna wailed with all her silence and strength. She cried for all the times that she had told her school friends that she didn’t celebrate birthdays because Papa found it better to donate money to the needy than spend it on entertainment. She cried for all the poems she had learnt by heart so that she could recite it to Papa, and see the look of pride on his face. She cried for all the lies that Papa had told her…that Papa had told to the world. She cried for the day when she came home with a bleeding nose after winning a taekwondo game, and her Papa had rushed to get her medical care. She cried because now, it was Papa who was bleeding her with heartless discrimination. She felt lizards creeping up her spine. She wanted to die, and she wanted to never ever face Papa again. She cried because she felt that only Aparna auntie would feel bad if she died. She cried because Papa had become a new man, a blind man, a liar man.

The water overflowed the bucket, slowly drenching her hair, face, school uniform, socks, shoes…until one couldn’t discriminate her tears from water.