I know writing thanks isn't enough but helping is. This letter is the precursor to help. As you take care of 3 meals a day while everyone is glued to their phones and TVs, I have decided to keep the phone aside and be there as you have been there for us, day in and day out, for as long as we have been born. Patriarchy is brutal. It is not something that only men practise but you too practise by not letting us help you in the kitchen, by serving everyone everything in their hands. You sent me away and what a good thing you did, because I learnt to be like you — self-sufficient, not depending for anything on anyone else. If only, you chill for a while, and allow me to take over, I shall show you that I learnt — by remembering you — how to make each dish that you made for us in the childhood, I learnt how to keep the kitchen clean while I make four curries and a dozen parathas, I know how to fold and iron the clothes and putting them in the almirah to be always found out when father or I look for our undergarments. Mother, you spoilt me with your care & even now you're not willing to stop. Give me a chance, mother, to fulfill my dream in this lockdown.
To become you.