I hated my mother every day. There was not a single day I didn't curse her. For me she was the villain, the person who might have had the coldest heart of this world. Why shouldn't I hate her, she left me when I was forty days old? When I needed her most, she was not there. My grandmother and my father didn't love me but they didn't abandon me, they were not selfish like her. My family had no picture of her so I didn't know what she looked like; I only heard she had big black hair. But like a ghost from childhood a woman often followed me to school, in the field and everywhere, sometimes she gave me fruits and biscuits. She became my only friend. Time passed. I turned sixteen and one day my uncle saw me with that veiled woman. He snatched me from her; she was crying like a mad woman. I was shocked and didn't know what to do. After I returned home I found out that the woman was my mother. I hated myself for allowing her to come close to me and sent my uncle to tell her I would not go to see her even she dies. After all, she got married again, she had a life and sons. I meant nothing to her ever. But I never knew what was waiting for me. Forty years later when she actually died my mother's sister brought a letter and a paper of property which she had given me. I came to know how horrible her life was in this family, how they tried to kill her as she gave birth to a daughter, how they told her if she wanted me to be alive, she had to leave me. The truth came in front of me one after another. But it was too late, I was blind to the hatred my father poured inside me. Now I will die thirsty as I didn't hug my mother once, as I didn't call her Maa for once. – Selina
