The World I Was Born Into

Before I became the girl writing these pages, I was just a little girl who knew nothing about the world she had entered.

I don't remember the day I was born, of course. I don't remember the faces that waited for me, the conversations that happened, the emotions everyone felt, or what life looked like at that time. But somewhere in those moments, my story quietly began.

So maybe, before I tell you about who I am today, I should go back to the beginning.

To the people who were there before me.
To the home that welcomed me.
To the dreams my family had.
To the things they worried about.
To the kind of world I was born into.

I want to know what life was like back then—not just for me, because I didn't know anything yet, but for the people who were already living it.

And then there was me.

A tiny new person entering a world that already had its own stories, relationships, expectations, happiness and struggles.


I didn't know it then, but one day I would grow up and have a story of my own.
This is where that story begins.

So was born in Bihar and in a joint family also..
Before I was born, I was already being imagined.
I was going to be the first child—the first little one who would enter the family and change everything. And somewhere in those days, there was a wish too: a little girl.
The thought of having a daughter made everyone happy. There was excitement, curiosity and so many little dreams about the child who was about to arrive.

But not everyone looked at it in exactly the same way.

My father came from a more traditional way of thinking. For him, like many people of his generation, there was a difference between the idea of having a son and having a daughter. A son carried certain expectations; a daughter carried different ones.
Maybe he didn't know then how much his little daughter would mean to him someday.
And maybe that's one of the things I want to understand as I write this story—not just what happened, but what people thought, what they believed, and why they were the way they were.
Because before I became the girl behind these pages, I was simply a baby everyone was waiting to meet.

And that baby was me, but I sometimes wonder what Papa thought when he first saw me. Did he see the daughter he had been given, or the son he had once imagined?

I don't know how much of those days I truly understand, because I wasn't old enough to remember them. Most of what I know comes from the stories I've been told, the things I've heard from my family, and the little pieces I've collected over the years.

But one thing I know for sure.

before I had memories, I had a family.
Before I had dreams, people had dreams for me.
Before I knew the world, the world had already begun shaping me.

And then, slowly I grew.

The baby who knew nothing became a little girl who began to notice things, feel things, question things and create memories of her own.

Maybe that's where my real story begins.
Not with the day I was born…
but with the day I started understanding the world around me.

And that tittle girl was me.