We received this heart-wrenching e-mail from a 15-year-old Jaipur girl. In the letter, she describes her hatred for her younger brother resulting from the discriminative behaviour of her parents towards her and their favored son. On her request, we’ve kept her name anonymous. 

Dearest Maa and Papa,

The day you brought my little brother home, was the happiest day of my life. Everyone was so happy and wanted to hold him. But you laid him in my arms. I embraced him and kissed his nose. Chirpily, I asked, “You distributed the gifts and sweets when I was born?” I thought you didn’t listen, for you were busy attending guests and I didn’t bother much. I was fascinated by his charms, his little toes, his small fingers rolled in a little fist. I knew that moment that I would love him forever and take care of him.

But, lately, Maa-Papa, how should I say to you, but I don’t like him. I wish he didn’t exist. I wish he were never born. I am sorry, but that’s the truth. I can’t say that to you because you love him. Maybe, that’s the problem; I don’t love him anymore because of you two. You love him more than me, and I don’t like it.

You let him beat me, and when I come crying to you, you don’t listen to me. I cry, and I cry to get your attention, but you say, “He’s a kid. Forget it. He will grow up soon.” I know he will, and my bruises will faint soon enough. But I remember Maa, one day I just softly slapped him as he had scribbled all over my notebook that was to be checked by my teacher the next day. He went running to you, and you shouted my name and called me. I was scared. I said sorry innumerable times. But he didn’t stop crying. You slapped me then and cursed me, “You are one useless girl. How many times do I have to tell you, not to fight with him? Let him do what he wants.” I tried understanding your point. I swear Maa, I did.

I take care of him while you are busy in the kitchen. I clean our room and keep his toys in place after he’s asleep. I know, I am her elder sister and him my baby brother, but he curses me and makes fun of me because he knows he can get away with it and I can’t scold him or touch him because you’ll shout at me. I want to be a good daughter and a good sister. But no matter how hard I try, I fail.

Maa, I love that special pasta and the yummy Maggi with all the vegetables in it that you make. But, I have seen, you never make them on my demand, I have tried too many times. Now, I always ask my little brother to insist you to cook them, and you readily agree. I even help you with the chopping leaving my favorite TV serial aside. But, still he gets a bigger portion than me, every single time. Why, Mummy?

Papa, I loved when you asked me how my day at school was. As scared as I am to talk to you, I tried telling you everything about my friends, the project work, the competition I won, but I saw that you had your attention all to him and was just nodding your head, obviously without listening. I know now, it’s just a formal question every day, and so, I just nod and say it was fine. It’s okay Papa; I understand you are tired of a day load of work. But, I am jealous of my brother when I see you playing with him, cuddling or tickling him, and listening to his nonsensical chatter so intently. I want that too. All my friends talk to their fathers about everything that happened at school and tuitions. Sometimes, I get so upset that I take my tiffin and go in the corner of my classroom to eat alone.

Maa-Papa I am elder to him, still I cannot go to birthday parties or on school trips with my friends. I cannot call my friends at home or chill out with them at cafes. But you threw a big birthday bash for him with all his friends. Maa, do you remember the times, I beg you for beautiful dresses when you take us shopping at Lifestyle but all your attention are on him and some toy that he likes?  Those innumerable senseless trips to Rajapark in search for his toys that he so wanted because all his friends had them while I had to struggle to get even the required stationery. Why Maa? Why Papa? Why? Why does he get everything he asks for regardless of how inappropriate they are while my demands are postponed and pushed aside?

I have heard you talking to someone at home, “We are so blessed to have him. We have tried so many things to have a boy but it was all worth it. We are so happy now.”

I have never hated him more in my life. He took my parents away from me. He took my freedom away. And most importantly, he took the meaning of my existence away from my parents’ life.

He is the son who will take their legacy forward and make them proud. I the daughter, a born liability to be married off to a suitor that fits their priorities at the earliest permissible age.

Mixed Emotions,

Your Neglected Daughter