write a story on uneducated woman's life
Answers
Answer:
r tttttr rrrrrrrrr 4rr44rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrtrrrrr
Answer:
As I was taken out of my labouring mother’s womb, my grandmother was the first to look at me.
She started crying even before I did. Her shrill screech of horror resonated across the room louder than my mother’s pain: “oh no…it has happened…. it’s a GIRL!” and then of course, followed a dramatic explosion of emotion among everyone around. My father retired to one corner with his head in his hands.
She had expected a productive ‘heir’ to the family, a man, a protector who could earn and help the family prosper; not this useless dummy-piece of a girl who was later going to be sold with dowry that the family wouldn’t be able to afford. That was how I received my welcome, on the very first day I dawned- like I was not an infant, but a harmful stone that had been removed from mom’s womb. Later that day, some of my relatives suggested that I be killed or dumped to rot somewhere, disposable as I was. But dear dad took pity on me, and so I have lived long enough to come to this state.
I’m happy that I didn’t understand all this hatred towards me as a girl, when I was little. The truth of my position in life started dawning only later on me. I understood it the first time, as a five year old girl. My cousin brother Ram who was also my age, was to attend school the very first time. “Get him oiled, and bathed, and ready. He must look well groomed! He’s going to the school!” I remember my grandmother saying. “What about me? I want to look nice too. Take me with Ram! I want to go to school! It will be big and nice and I can play! I know there are nice teachers and books!” I told my grandma, who uncomfortably shifted in her place and exchanged looks with my mother, whose face looked downtrodden upon my innocent words. Of course she knew that I, as a mere girl, wouldn’t be allowed to attend school.
So I never went. I stayed at home. When I was little, I used to help mom clean the vessels and listen to the gossip of the old ladies on the verandah whenever I got bored. I used to stare longingly at the beautiful books that Ram took to school every day, and envy the way they got bigger every year. Sometimes, I would sit to look at those books, but I wouldn’t understand a word. Mom soon gave birth again, and to everyone’s delight, to a boy.
At other times, I would look outside at the bus that shuttled back and forth between our village and the town, and wonder what the big, sophisticated town would be like. I could only go if dad took me, but I was too scared to ask. I knew Ram’s school took him on trips to see and observe the town, many a time. He also seemed to be able to easily join in adults’ complex talk of big numbers and cities outside our state, though like me, he was only eight at that time. The only news I knew was the local gossip and who fought with whom and which woman has the most marks from domestic abuse. I was terrified because I knew my situation as a wife was going to be the same one day.
When I turned twelve, I was sent to work at the construction site of a large house in my village, for a wage of about fifty rupees every day, so that our family could continue to pay for Ram’s increasing cost of education as he passed through higher grades and also support the little new arrival of my brother in the family. Ram now sometimes read those enormous paragraphs about money and things on the newspaper. Meanwhile, I learnt to cook a hundred meals, to tailor them to the varied liking of my dad and, then, Ram, the ‘men’. After working ten hours at the construction site, I would come home and help mom clean up, and then take care of my little brother.
At night every day, grandma used to tell me about how I should be when I grew up. She would tell me I’d get married in a couple of years and about my duties as a woman. I was a girl, so I had to be humble, I had to be wise enough to rise above my own longings and sacrifice boundlessly. I was a girl, so I should learn to tolerate every sort of treatment, and bear my family’s weight till it crushes me. As a wife, I would have to surrender to the utmost god that my husband, to me, would become. I had to be strong, fully selfless and absolutely tolerant and unquestioningly submissive. “Never raise your voice. Don’t give your opinion if it’s not requested for. Don’t have contacts with men, as you are growing older. Otherwise, you will be an incapable woman unworthy of life…” and so she would preach. This was my only education.
Some months later, a disaster befell my family. Mom got severely ill, and then abruptly died.
Dad then told a twelve year old me that I was in charge of all the household duties. For a couple of years after that, I was the new mother in the family, to my little brother and to my cousins including Ram. Doing household chores and taking care of everyone became my life.
Explanation: