Did You Get Your Period?

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

One of the conversations with her mother that Seema would always remember was the one that was about to happen.

Late night, a glass of wine in hand, she was out on the balcony taking in the silence of the night. Everybody else in the house had gone to bed and now it was only her. Seema loved to feel the quietude at night when her giggling girls had gone to bed. Wine in hand, this was sometimes the only time she had for contemplation. To allow the brooding thoughts that never seemed to be released from her head. It wasn't that she drank often; Lord knows her girls didn't need a drunkard of a mother to set a bad example for them. But at times when the world got too tedious, it was with a glass of wine that she allowed things to slow down and settle.

The weeks following Shweta's period drama, she had felt more uncertain than she had in a long time. She had been hasty with her daughter; dictatorial and bully-like as Shweta had pointed out. But a mother's love wasn't always kind, was it? And she had to protect her girls from whatever was it that she had faced, hadn't she? Better a mother's tough love than the cold, unforgiving absence of it.

"You still get up at night, I see." The familiar warm voice says, gently walking out onto the balcony. "You're too old for me to admonish you to bed. But you should really sleep." Her own mother, hair silver and wrinkles aplenty smiles at her.

"And drinking, Seema? At this age?" She says, the smile replaced by a disgruntled expression so similar to the one she often gave her own daughters.

"What do you mean, at this age? I'm not ancient." Seema laughs, teasing her mother. The wine and the cold air have made her feel a bit lighter.

"No." Her mother says, the disapproving look still not fading. "You're a mother. And there are certain things that a mother should not do."

"Like what?" Seema says, leaning against the railings of the balcony looking at her mother impertinently. It felt nice, freeing to be the childish one for once. To be the daughter every once in a while.

"Don't act as you used to when you were sixteen. Always challenging me." Nani grumbles but there is a fond look in her eyes.

"I wasn't challenging you. I was challenging patriarchy." Seema says.

"What do you mean?" Nani asks, her hand itching to take the glass of wine and empty it in the kitchen sink.

"The school of thought that allows men freedom and expects women to keep quiet. Sets absurd rules about what women should do and don't. Like drinking a responsible amount of wine at night. Things mothers should do and don't. Aren't mothers allowed to be human for one night?" Seema asks, knowing that she would probably confuse her mother but still wanting to argue.

"You touched divinity when you created your daughters, darling. But yes, you are allowed to be human. Is this about Shweta?" She asks.

"Maybe," Seema says, taking a sip of the wine; a statement of her rebellion. "She doesn't understand that I want to protect her. She thinks I'm bullying her."

"Aren't you?" Nani asks, finally taking the glass of wine from Seema. "Aren't you thinking that I'm dictating your move by taking this glass of wine?"

"I do". Seema says, reaching out to take it but Nani keeps it out of her grasp.

"But I'm only trying to protect you from all of the alcohol that your body does not need," Nani says. Seema opens her mouth ready to argue with her mother that red wine had been proven to have some health benefits when drunk in little quantities.

"But you are a fully functioning human being who should be allowed to use her intelligence to make her decisions," Nani says. "That darling, and forcing your father to send you to college and refusing to talk to him when he disagreed was your battle against patriarchy. Maybe this one is your daughter's."