My name is Meera. I am 35 years old and I live in an apartment in Mumbai with my husband Arjun and our daughter Ananya. For me, Ananya is my whole world — obedient, bright in her studies and very affectionate. But as she grew older, she began to have more and more things that she found difficult to share with her mother.
And then, one day, I realized: I had hurt him more than I ever thought.
It all started when Arjun started taking Ananya to his grandparents’ house in Thane on the weekend. At first I thought it was a good thing. His grandmother also needed his company. But recently, whenever Ananya returned home, she was unusually calm.
One day, she went straight to her room and buried her face in the pillow while crying.
I asked him what was wrong. He just shook his head and said:
“I’m fine… Don’t worry.
I asked Arjun, but he quipped:
“You think too much about everything. It’s normal for babies to cry a little. Don’t make a big deal out of it.
But my mother’s intuition told me that something was wrong. I decided to do something that I still shudder to remember.
The next day, before my daughter left for Thane with Arjun, I quietly hid a small voice recorder in her bag. My hands were shaking as I closed it, my heart pounding. I felt guilty for being skeptical. But another part of me needed to know the truth.
That afternoon, Ananya came home and started crying again. I hugged him, pretending I didn’t know anything.
When she fell asleep, I turned on the voice recorder.
What I heard left me speechless.
His grandmother’s voice had the same sentiment as Marathi –
“This girl is just like your mother.” What woman can’t give birth to a boy? If she doesn’t work hard enough to make good money, throw it away!
Ananya’s voice was full of emotion:
– “I… I’ll try. Please don’t hate me…”
My heart broke.
A ten-year-old child – why should he suffer so much cruelty?
Then Arjun’s cold voice came:
“You are right. She’s just a girl. What’s the point of raising her if she’s going to get married anyway? Don’t spoil it too much.
I was trembling. Tears rolled down my face.
The man I trusted the most — the father of my child — was not only apathetic, but also involved in emotionally abusing our daughter.
I sat by her bedside, looking at her tear-filled face. My heart was filled with sadness and anger. Back in the day, she smiled and talked to me as if everything was fine… But behind my back, she was carrying the weight of rejection from her own family.
The next morning, I asked Arjun to sit in the living room. I put the recorder on the table and pressed play.
Voices echoed through the dark room. Arjun’s face turned pale.
I looked him straight in the eye and said:
“Is that what you call ‘normal’? She’s only ten years old! He needs love — not rejection.
Arjun stammered and said,
“I… I just wanted him to get stronger…”
I gave a sad smile:
– “You make a child stronger by making him feel like he is not loved? Do you realize how much she cries every time she comes back from your parents’ house?
He was silent, his head hanging down. For the first time, I saw the shame in my husband’s eyes.
That night, I hugged my daughter and whispered:
“Anu, I know you’ve done a lot. You don’t have to lift this weight. Be true to yourself — I’m always here for you.
She was stunned – and then burst into tears.
“Mom… I thought you wouldn’t believe me. I was afraid that telling you would only make you sad…
I held him tightly. In that moment, I realized:
the greatest pain my daughter suffered was to go through it alone.
From that day on, I swore that she would never go to her grandparents’ house again. I told Arjun’s family in Thane: If you still have prejudice against girls, please leave me and my daughter alone.
I also reached out to a child psychologist in Bandra to help ease the pressure on my daughter.
For me — a mother living in the heart of busy Mumbai — there is nothing more important than raising my child in love.
The truth revealed by the voice recorder caused a rift in our family, but it also made one thing clear:
A daughter’s tears should never be ignored