My darling,
While my palms gently move along my swollen belly, my thoughts take a tour of the life that awaits you, my daughter. They drift smoothly like the carefree days of childhood.
I long for the moment to hold you in my arms for the first time, to watch your tiny lips curl up into the most gorgeous smile, to see you take those baby steps, faltering and fast, towards me; to watch you fall and then get back up, to tie those pretty pigtails on your first day at school, to teach you the ABCs and Jack ‘n’ Jill, to shed tears of joy as I watch you become a lady.
But then, it kills me to think of the thorns that this world has grown over time. Thorns that sink in deep, deep down your skin, through your bones and scar your soul. How will I protect you from those, my love? How will I shield you from those piercing, lustful stares and touches of the men who are vile right to their core?
And after all that, how will I find the will to hand over my little girl to another man? How? No I won’t do that. I won’t let you go.
But I promise you, love, that I will let your laughter seep into my locks of hair and remind you of them when you fail to find hope, I will protect you from your deepest fears and hide them all in the folds of my saree, I will show you the strength that you have in you to fight this filthy, filthy world. And moreover, I will show you the men, men who continue to remain untouched by the degradation of human mind. Men like your father. I promise you.
Forever scared and rueful,
Your mother.