“What do you mean by your personal stuff”, yelled my Dad at me once for not letting him read my diary, “why it is so personal that you can’t show it to your own father?” How could I tell him that there are few things that a daughter cannot share with her father, no matter how close they are and how strong is their bond. Could I tell him how I get bullied in the class for being fat, or the way I get teased by people when my mother comes to drop me at school. Could I share with him about the boy whom I keep staring at in the class. Once my parents would come to know about all of these things, they sure will either change my school, or impose such harsh punishments on me, which would scar my school days forever.
Some parents fail to understand that their children are different individuals from them. They can have their own life and their own, and have the freedom to have their own dreams their own secrets, and their own problems. The problem arises when the parents expect the child to grow up in a particular way, and the child grows up to be completely different. What would happen to such a family, which lives on disappointment every day?
I had my mother come to school almost everyday to school, to scold all those naughty kids in the class Who would pester me all day long. One day, a boy was pulling my hair in the class, and the others were enjoying the scene. One of them got up and said in a sly and amused way, “Leave her alone, or else she would go call her Mom to the class.” Yeah, I have had such horrible days too.
Part of it is my fault, I had this habit of going and telling everything to my mother, as I longed for a friend to share all my secrets. But my mother turned out to be a double-faced woman, Who would not just listen to what happened today, but would also like to keep a follow up on the same thing Until It’s No more important. One day, I was tired of such interference, and I told one of those grown up and sweet gals in my class about it, and all she said is, ” Why do you have to go and tell her at first place?” It took me that long time and this sentence to understand my role in my problems.
Right now, I am sitting on my terrace and writing this blog, as when I was typing it out in my phone, my parents were scared that I am writing something to my boyfriend which they had imagined past two years. But the worst of all is, sometimes you really can’t help it.