The Last Meeting

Dear diary,

It has been ten days… but it feels like forever… since I met her for the last time. I could tell, no, I knew that she had grown bigger, and so could my family. It had been twenty happy weeks before that, but a day, maybe an hour, changed all that. To imagine I wouldn’t be spending more time with her… no words can express the sadness… the restlessness that I felt.

I spent the entire morning with her. I bathed her and sang to her. But I could tell that she was restless, just like me. Almost as if she knew she’d never see me. It was one day before that I had seen her for the first time. I smiled for the last time then, and he frowned for the first time.

I tried to be very careful, tried not to let her go, but I knew I was only delaying the inevitable. From the moment I knew it was her, I knew I was trapped…. no, we were trapped. I couldn’t run away, I couldn’t hide. I could see envious hands waiting to take her away. I fed her one last time. But I never made it back to my room after lunch. My family had spilt oil on the last step, and I came rolling down.

And just like that… she was… she was gone.

I never told you this, but I had named her. I had named her Asha. In my heart I knew, that when she came into the world, if she came into the world, only that one name would be apt for her. If she did come, then she’d be my reason for hope, my reason to tell her to dream.

But the last thing, the last thing I could say to her before I fell unconscious was “Forgive me”.

Forgive me.


Female foeticide, the act of aborting a foetus because it is female, is a major social problem in India and has cultural connections with the dowry system ingrained in Indian culture, despite the fact that it has been prohibited by law since 1961.

(21st May 2014)

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Poetry & writing are to me, a breath of fresh air in a life that is sometimes covered by the smoke of sorrow or self doubt. They also become the sweets I share to celebrate when life offers me a reason to. But most of all, they are to me, my life. For each word I write is a piece of my heart, a thought that just had to find its way into the world.

18 thoughts on “The Last Meeting”

  1. Oh this kills me. Poor N.

    Sadly, female foeticide still exists in India. And there are a million N’s out there who still prefer to talk to their diaries instead of standing up for themselves.

  2. Powerful and painful. Female foeticide is indeed a brutal reality our generation is fighting. I just wish it does not slip into the next generation.

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