My Daughter's Diary

Society consists of individuals or group of humans that is delineated by the bounds of cultural identity, social solidarity and functional interdependence. Being a part of society we share cultural aspects such as language, dress, norms of behavior, and artistic forms. By birth we are interrelated to others who live with us and around us. As we live in a society, we need to know how to behave in social context showing various degrees of cooperation and communication with others. The lack of agreement and harmony always lead to splitting of a group. From ages society has been getting partitioned sometimes by means of religion, sometimes by economic status or region but always by means of biological class. We don’t think on this but the open clash of two biologically classified social groups “male” and “female” hinders the progress of our society. Wise people say society is for the people, of the people and by the people. It’s not an esoteric philosophical theory that can be understood by only enlightened people. It’s a simple phenomenon that can be understood and followed by everyone.

My daughter Rhea is of seventeen. Her attainment of the specified age increases my worry and concern. After the sad demise of my wife Kabya, Rhea is everything to me. She is my life and my company, and together we are family. We assist each other and give reasons to one another’s life for living. Life of a software engineer revolves around millions of codes and some more codes. The activities to make our white clients happy keep our life fully engaged and occupied. It forces us to delete the family time from our agenda. The scarcity of time in my life keeps me away from my daughter always. But whenever I got my control over time, I devote the whole time to my little angel. She is very sweet and a wonderful daughter. Her cherubic face with angelic smile and the dulcet tone makes me forget everything. It has been pleasing for me to watch her infantile behavior and playing funny games with her. She is like an odoriferous flower in my life’s garden. The flower is bloomed with time and her salad days increasing my concerns. Only fathers can understand what a fatherly concern is?

I was actively engaged in a company project for a time period of some length. The accomplished project yielded two days vacation for me. I was very happy with the thought of spending time with my daughter. When I woke up late because of late night party, Rhea was not there. I searched her every where and found a note hanging on her room’s wall saying

“Papa, I will be late, going for Priya’s b’day”

It was nothing new as she used to leave notes for me.
Whenever I come home, I see those tiny paper scraps, updating me about my daughter. I got little disappointed with her not being at home. While scanning her room with a rapid eye movement, my eye balls stopped at one place, it was my wife’s photo, a cheerful smiling face, and she looked very young. This is a really good thing about photos; people never get old housed in a photo frame, how nice!! They remain untouched from the wind of time. Time has changed the color of my hairs, but Kabya is the same beautiful girl. Some unknown, unspoken feelings misted my eyes, I put her photo frame down, and saw another thing that was kept near. A diary,….yes my daughter’s diary. I took that in my hand and headed to the drawing room.

Should I open the diary?
Shouldn’t I?

My mind oscillated between these two pivotal questions. Should a father read her daughter’s diary? It contains personal written records of daily events and thoughts. As a private document, diaries are supposedly not intended for anyone except the owner. The pages of a diary witness the secrets of a person. Should I be introduced to my daughter’s secrets? On the other hand diary speaks a lot about a person. And I wanted to listen about my daughter. So the father in me decided to open the diary with a promise to close it if any secrecy comes to sight.
There is nothing wrong meeting your daughter’s life. Isn’t it? I flipped the pages.
“I miss you mom” written with every possible design work that could be imposed on innocent alphabets. Rhea had been giving time to decorate the line everyday, it seemed. It’s easily perceived by the senses or grasped by the mind that a motherless child always misses a mother. No one can fill our life with such tenderness, warmth and affections like a mother. And if the mother is Kabya then there is no substitution of her thoughts even. I selected a page arbitrarily and started reading it.

“Should I tell to father? How?”

My daughter wanted to tell something? But what? I had to go back.
“I am seventeen now. For some I am Rhea, For some I am a showpiece”
The last word pierced into my heart and few hot blood drops rushed into my whole body. Once again I asked myself “Should I continue reading the diary?” The answer came yes, as my daughter wanted to say something through the written words. Reading continued
“The journey of a girl has never been easy in this world. From the age of Mahabharata where Pandavas made Drupadi a bet, to the age of Ramayana where Sita’s purity was questioned. Every time a girl was treated badly. Even today. “

“Are not we humans? We have the same human feelings, our blood is also red and we have six senses only then why these differences between boys and girls”
Her pain was inked so beautifully in the diary. I could hear the scream of consonants and vowels expressing the pain. Though it was not easy for a father to read more, I turned the next page.
“When a girl turns seventeen, things change dramatically for her. She becomes the main attention of people. Boys start putting interest on her. Advises flow like a river stream and uncountable helping hands appear every time. She is forced to experience the loud and penetrating tone of catcalling down the street. Why girls become hot topic in classes. My fellow classmates always have an eye on me, what I wear, what I see, they keep track of everything. Some even stare to see how I draw my lips. I feel like a bird who is confined in a cage. While walking on the street, some boys follow me, isn’t it scary? If I talk to a boy, the next day I become the protagonist of school grapevine. Is it okay for a strange man to ambush me? And what happens when I say nothing, trying to ignore the Neanderthal and walk away. Whenever a guy comes to me and demands a conversation, If I ignore him and take my way, then he starts throwing me whatever slangs he knows. Is it the way how we should be treated? Can’t they be normal with us? What is our fault? What wrong we do ?

I had no courage to turn the next page, I decided what to do? Next morning I resigned from my job and started writing books. I put my daughter in a girls school and escorted her most of the time. My books on Database Management System and on programming languages are very popular and earn me handsome money for living. Rhea is very happy with her life, with me. But the question is still there If every father starts hiding his daughter from boys then the day is not far when boys will not be able to say how a girl look like.

I (boy) am not the society
You (girl) are not the society
We (boy-girl) are the society