migrating some of my pages, to my posts. you might see content you’ve read before. bear with me for a bit.
jaisalmer, december 2007
i do not remember her name but i remember her story.
at a village on the outskirts of jaisalmer, a woman sat washing utensils at a community tap. along with her were many other women, all washing utensils and clothes. with her thick kajal, long red tikka and heavy silver jewellery she had me paying attention. i was drawn in and stopped to talk. “where did you get that payal from?” and then the usual questions followed. was she married? how many kids?
three kids, all boys, she said. but she’d had two deliveries before that and they were both girls. she had ‘let them go’. i didn’t understand, and pushed for more. she went on… there is no life for girls, too much money to get them married, no use to have girls, so i…
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