From The Quill of Suranya

To the man I call my father, Remember how you complained about Maasa having an opinion of her own? Remember all those times you came home drunk? Or abused Maasa? I hid behind the door and watched you, horrified. I had silently caressed her bruises. She had smiled, hiding tears. Remember all those school functions you missed? All the awards of mine you broke in your fit of rage, mixed with the intoxication of whatever you took? And all the time you cursed me because I did Mom's house chores? How you taunted me, saying I would end up being a house husband. How you taunted, my career decision. All the criticism you had when I raised my voice against marital rape? Was that your encouragement? I am obliged. All the time, I had been jealous of my friends who had fathers like friends. Often, I read quotes on how a girl wants a guy like her father. And I shudder at the mere idea of it. I don't want that for Munni. She is just like Maasa, warm and gentle. You made me hate men, being a m...