My dear unborn child,
I am writing this letter to you almost a decade before I can even think of conceiving you. I am writing this, to let you know, that I am never letting you come into this world. I have always been scared of the process of delivering a baby. However, my concerns are far greater than that pain today. And hence, my reasons, stronger.
Let me tell you that this world isn’t as beautiful as it seems on the outside. That being said, neither does everyone know how to survive in this not-so-beautiful world. What if you, my dear child, turn out to be one of such individuals?
What if you’re a boy? What if you turn out to be the kind of boy who breaks the heart of an innocent girl? What if you are disrespectful enough to flaunt an imaginary list of real girls who would sleep with you? What if you’re coward enough to not have any principles? What if you’re irresponsible enough to not call me back as soon as you see my missed call? What if you’re careless enough to make choices about your life that would affect your closed ones? What if you drink like you breathe and are dumb enough to live on weed? What if, before I die, you, the love of my life, cease to exist?
And what if you’re a girl? What if you never learn to stand up for your rights? What if you are a submissive girlfriend? What if you’re crazy enough to think that sleeping with a guy will make him like you? What if someone tries to pinch your butt? What if you do not have the guts to slap the shit out of the guy who pinches your butt? What if you’re incapable enough to sort the priorities in your life? What if you’re foolish enough to let a guy fuck you without a condom? What if you’re scared enough to never make mistakes or stupid enough to repeat them? What if you drink like you breathe and are dumb enough to live on weed? What if, before I die, you, the love of my life, cease to exist?
What if you’re neither born a girl, nor a boy, but a Chutiya instead who makes one or more of these “What ifs” come to life? And what if, (sigh) What if I change my mind and let you come to this world and you don’t come to me and promise to be a worthy child after I’ve let you read this letter?
Baby, I can be the mother who hands you your first drink or buys you your first condom. I can ask your father to tell you which site has better porn to offer. I can let you cry on my lap after you’re first breakup and rejoice with you on your first kiss. I can embrace you if you come out of the closet. But I can’t have you not question yourself when someone says to you “Maa-Baap ne yahi sikhaya hai?” I can’t let you breathe life into my innumerable fears. And I can’t, I just can’t let you out in this world if you choose succumb your choices irrespective of their consequences.
Your loving but scared mother-to-be.