Mimi knows, but do you?

Ones who we call 'humare ghar ki lakshmi', without whom we wouldn't have survived living, let us spread the word to ensure a safe and healthy sphere for them, stand up against any injustice we witness happening against the women, the little girls, our daughters and our mothers, to devise the echo of empowerment inhibiting at every corner of our minds, and our world.

Something just like this. Image Source: IKEA

It was a dazzling, sunlit summer morning. The sun beams dressed the verandah up in shimmers. It was warm; absolutely mellow, not meant to broil your skin with the intention of the devils to chiack, pinning a mild taste of what would happen to you in hell. Since a few aesthetic ideas were bubbling in my head, I clasped my steaming cup of tea, spread a fresh white sheet on the coffee table and sat restfully on my favourite wooden armchair with my feet crossing the threshold of the room to greet the gleaming glints, dancing on the verandah.

My mind was too used up in clicking pictures of my model, the tea cup, from the various angles and busting my gut over new effects in Instagram; even then a muzzy creaking of the main door couldn’t slip away from my incisive hearing skill. It was an amicable squeak. Pratima entered the house, with her unvarying companion, Mimi.

Pratima is the homemaker of my sullied humble abode, and Mimi is her little daughter. Pratima’s husband is a heedless drunkard, who never treats his wife like a human, rather a punching bag. Hence, Pratima drags her daughter alongwith her, to whichever building she goes to serve, instead of keeping Mimi under the umbrella of her father. She once said, “Didi, I can bear whatever that monster does to me, but I can’t see him harming my innocent child.” I was bewildered to see such dauntless words coming out of those unnerved, trembling lips. Though I admire Pratima’s bravery, I also wish she could stand up for herself or Mimi and get rid of this misfortune forever. It’s not in my hands to help them much. I offered to tutor Mimi, looking at Pratima’s financial situation, for free, to at least not let her worry about her daughter’s flourishing future. Mimi is an avid learner, keen to gain knowledge, and never to let herself be contended with unanswered curiosities. Contrary to her mother’s eyes, Mimi's eyes manifested the thirst for knowledge. I was confident that this girl is going to achieve big things in life, and the person who's going to be the most proud of her would be Pratima.

One evening, as I was wandering around my room to pull out a towel from a corner of the bed or the chair, piled up with clothes; suddenly I heard the doorbell ringing fiercely, as if somebody’s on fire or somebody needs to hurry to the washroom. Annoyed by the continuous ‘ding ding, ding, ding’, I opened the door and was just about to scream, when I saw Mimi.

She was still wearing her school dress, so I assumed she rushed on her way home and the finish line was my doorbell. It wasn’t Pratima’s duty hour. Though it seemed unusual, I invited her in and offered her a glass of water. “What happened, Mimi? Why did you hurtle? Is there any problem? Did your father do something again?” As I was listing all possible questions, Mimi interrupted, "Ohho! Shush, shush! You're thinking way too much. Everything’s fine with me and my mother. For now. It’s just, today is October 11, and in our school, we were taught that the International Day of Girl Child is celebrated today. Can you please enlighten me with what it is about?”

A copiously relieved ‘Phew!’ came out of my panicked soul. Poor kid was still struggling with her breath out of exhaustion. “Okay. I’ll illuminate you with the topic, but first, let me ask you, what actually comes to your mind when you heard there is a special day to celebrate the number of she-children?’’ Mimi promptly answered, “Looking at my mother and her dreadful condition, I have realized it is important to know one's worth and never to let any filthy human diminish our value. So, I think, the day is made to spread awareness among the oblivious females, their guardians and the ignorant society as a whole, about the gender inequality and their rights to access all the things which men can have easily.”

I told you, I knew there’s something special in Mimi, which won't let her become a teensy avatar of mistreated Pratima. I was impressed by the Dali masked rebel coveting her. “Yes. Your thinking is totally right. This day is fabricated to uphold the merit of womenfolk. As we can see, we claim to be in a generation of progressiveness, where men and women have no discrepancy between them in terms of opportunities in any field- be it education or job or hiring in any profession. There are laws issued for the protection of women, their integrity and dignity. But amidst of all these prosperities, there are many rural, not-so-developed parts of the country which are thriving in superstitions. The birth of a girl child is predicted to be a curse to the family or sometimes, the entire village. Either they are slaughtered by the sharp tongue of her own people or tortured for life. Dowry marks their worth, and the parents don’t hesitate to pay the price. Torture becomes domestic violence…”

Mimi’s face hung low, “Like my mother, right?” I comforted her and said, “Your mother is a very courageous woman. She might have gone through a storm she never deserved. But the rainbow, soothing her maimed spine is you! She is working hard, only to see you achieving great things in life. She is saving you from all kinds of social evils girls are trawled into, like child marriage, not giving access to education/health care, or missing any chance to lead an independent, respectful life. She works day and night, so that your tummy doesn’t growl in emptiness. Your brilliance and thoughtfulness towards her is her motivation...” “And she is my inspiration!” Mimi added. I hugged her tightly as her words brought out the overly emotional side of mine.

“Ah! Here comes your mother.” The familiar squeal floated to my senses. “Mimi, are you here?” a heavily panting Pratima broke in, as if I have stolen a diamond from her. “You should have informed me at the minimum. Do you know how worried I was?” She embraced her mother softly and whispered, “Sorry, Ma. I can’t control the world, but I will never cause you any distress.” This brought tears to Pratima’s weary eyes. “Silly girl! Let’s go home now. I have made your favourite sabzi. I will feed you while you immerse yourself in preparation of your upcoming exams. My girl will definitely score good marks, isn’t it?” ****

“YES!” shouted Mimi with enthusiasm. I bid goodbye to the two lovely ladies from my door. They sauntered merrily in the darkness of the night. I saw the beam of the lampost falling on them; the sun soaked verandah walked with Pratima.