Avanti seemed to be frustrated, as it was evident on her pale, sleep-deprived face. She had been working on this article for a week now but couldn't pull it off. She hadn't been able to type more than one line for the past seven days.

Avanti is a budding author who kick-started her career a few years back. She had a sudden insight, which guided her toward this path. But it wasn't easy for her to choose writing as a career, being an engineering graduate. She was expected to go for a full-time job, making some real money, rather than sitting around the cosy corner of her room with a laptop at around 2'am every night.

She has written two novels to date. But it did not have the reach she expected. It felt like a setback to her, and it gradually made her question her decision to pursue a career in this field. She wondered whether she had this thing it takes to dump imagination into words.

"Ugh!" She screamed, throwing her laptop on the bed. "Kanna?" Radha called her from the kitchen, just to make sure she was okay. Avanti didn't care to respond. She laid down, closing her eyes for a minute.

As Radha didn't get a response, she barged into Avanti's room. "Ma, please! I'm not in the mood to talk." Avanti turned aside, facing the empty wall.

"Well, I just wanted to make sure you're okay." Radha walked out of the door, shutting it behind her. But she couldn't take another step forward. She was exhausted seeing her daughter like this and thought a face-to-face talk could blow off some steam. She turned around and opened the door.

"Ma, did you not hear me?"

"I heard you the first time, kanna." She came in and sat near Avanti.

Radha didn't talk for a while, being lost in the painting hanging near the window. It was drawn by Avanti for her drawing competition when she was seven years old. It had only a few vibrant colours that a seven-year-old kid could identify easily. It was a back view of three people standing and holding each other's hands. According to Avanti, it was her mom on the left, her dad in the middle, and herself at the right end.

When Radha saw that for the first time, it shook her inside out. It felt strange to her, as any kid at that age would have drawn it otherwise – like the kid standing in the middle, holding their parents' hands on both sides. It was more like the kid's way of imparting that they needed both their parents' love. But in Avanti's case, Radha believed that the painting reflected how much she longed for fatherly love, that she made him stand in the middle.

Until that day, Avanti never even asked about her dad, but this painting of hers made Radha realise that doesn't mean she's not yearning for him. At that point, Radha didn't know how to tell her daughter everything, and also felt that it wasn't the right age for her to understand things.

Radha believed that Avanti's thoughts about her father would fade away eventually. But day after day, Avanti started questioning her mother. One day, she was preparing for her assignment. And suddenly, she asked her mother, "Amma, what does appa look like? What's his name?" Radha stood still, not knowing whether to tell the truth or not, and doubted whether Avanti could handle it. She had been preparing herself mentally to answer that question for years, knowing someday Avanti would ask her.

"Our teacher asked us to write an essay about our father," Avanti said in her childish voice. Radha remained silent for some time. After a while, she took Avanti's homework note to see what she had written in her essay. When Radha saw the title of that essay, she couldn't control her tears. The very title of the essay was written 'Hero of your life.' She got disturbed about how the mere word hero made Avanti associate it with her father, whom she hadn't even remembered seeing. She worried, doubting if she was doing right by her daughter.

She cleared her throat and said, "A hero can be anyone who brightens your world, kutty ma. Sometimes, it'll be people we never even know." Avanti looked at her mother for a minute without blinking. "But, Rithi said she's going to write about her father." Her face drooped as she said.

"Aw! My precious little girl. For some people, their father will be their hero, and for some, it'll be their mother. For someone, it'll be their partner, and for some, it'll be a cricketer or someone from the cinema industry. But the thing is, a hero in someone's life doesn't always need to be the one in our lives too, kanna." Radha clasped Avanti in her arms as she wiped off the tears rolling down her cheeks.

"You can write about anyone. But if you insist on writing about your father.." Before Radha could finish, Avanti stopped her by saying, "No, amma. I'll write about someone else." She didn't force Radha, and started writing the essay herself as if she got a new spark.

If even Avanti insisted one more time that day, Radha would've told her everything. She, in fact, was even ready to filter out the good characteristics of Avanti's father, which would be enough to portray him as a hero for her daughter's essay. She didn't want to disappoint her daughter. Also, Avanti didn't want to hurt her mother by asking for anything more.

Until today, Radha never asked Avanti about whom she wrote in that essay. She didn't know if she could bear the answer. She believed some things are better left unasked.

"Do you remember this drawing of yours?" Radha asked, gluing her eyes to that picture.

"Amma please, the last thing I need now is a stupid talk about my second-grade drawing." Avanti sighed heavily.

"Okay, let me bring you a cup of coffee," Radha whispered as she stood up.

"I just couldn't wrap my mind around this article. It keeps bothering me." Avanti sat on her bed, leaning against the wall, facing the window. The darkness outside captured her eyes.

She was supposed to finish this article titled 'Voices of women' within this week and submit it to the magazine for women's day issue. She badly wanted her article to be published, and she also knew how hard that was, considering the number of articles that would be competing for the same spot. She didn't want her write-up to be the usual content that everyone writes, but she wanted to see things from a different perspective, except that she has trouble writing when given a topic. Writing always comes in a flow to her when there's no restriction to limit her thoughts and ideologies within a circle. But no matter how, she wanted to push herself this time, since getting her article published in this famous national magazine is like winning a lottery ticket. She desperately wanted to prove herself to this blaming society and believed this would pave the way for her emerging writing career.

"So, that's the thing, huh?" Radha stood by the window, trying to get herself within the range of Avanti's eyes, and continued, "You know, it's one hell of a job to get things out of your mouth nowadays."

"Argh! Stop bragging about your rusty tricks, ma." Avanti facepalmed. A brief silence occupied the room soon. Both of them got lost in their thoughts. 

"Is it hard being a single parent, ma?" Avanti asked her mother the one question she always wanted to ask.

Radha is a kind of woman with a broad mentality. She got married to Karthi when she was 25 years old. She then moved to Chennai from her birthplace, Thanjavur. Initially, her marriage life was good, and she tried to adapt herself to the new family. A few years later, she got pregnant with Avanti. When Avanti was born, things were quite settled between Radha and her in-laws, who kept demanding a baby. Life was going well until Karthi became an alcoholic. Initially, he had it under control. But things got ugly when he returned home every night drunk. Radha failed in every attempt she made to make him sober. It wasn't easy for her to raise a child in such an environment. She felt that Avanti didn't deserve such a life, as she always wanted to give the best to her daughter.

One day, being drunk, Karthi babbled about his affair with another woman. Radha was shattered. Her dreams and hopes were shattered. That was something she never even dreamt of. The perfect family she envisaged was gone in a second, just like that. The last thing she wanted to do was argue with him. She decided not to live with him anymore, and she was firm in that decision.

It was the last day she stayed in that house. Without any second thought, she filed for divorce from Karthi. Her in-laws were supportive of her throughout the entire phase. After everything that happened, Karthi married that woman, and he didn't even want to see his daughter thereafter.

Radha got full custody of her daughter and wanted to give her the life she deserved. And for that, she decided to continue her higher studies. With the monthly stipend she got by doing a Ph.D., she managed to run her little family of two. A few years later, when she was hired as an assistant professor at a college, life got easier for her. She was able to provide for Avanti's education. Life was peaceful for another two decades.

If not for these life-changing incidents, Radha would have been a homemaker who let go of her career for her family. It took all these things to make her stand for herself.

"To be honest, except for the times when you insisted on knowing your father, who doesn't want to be in your life; the times when you yearned for fatherly love, which made me doubt if I would ever fulfil it; the times when you got angry at me for not accompanying your father to your second-grade parent-teacher meeting, when all your friends came with both their parents; the times when I wondered how I was going to explain things to you that would shatter all your little dreams that had your father as a part, and how you would handle it. Except for the innumerous times when this society criticised me for this marriage not working out; the times when they expected me to shut my mouth and stay with him just for financial support; the times when the mere label of divorcee gave them the right to judge my moral values; the times when people thought that I was incapable of being in a family and raising a child on my own. Except for these times, it wasn't hard, kanna." Radha spat it out. She spat out everything that had been consuming her for years now. She couldn't speak anymore, as her throat choked. This time it was harder for her, harder than when she told Avanti about her father and their failed marriage.

When Avanti was ten years old, Radha thought that her daughter was at the right age to understand things, and she couldn't deny the truth anymore, as she started asking more questions. She also knew that Avanti was too delicate to hear anything more than that, as a ten-year-old kid. So, she didn't want to talk about any of the difficulties she faced in her life after divorce. But today, she felt that Avanti was strong enough to handle that, as she was grown enough to ask about it.

"I'm so sorry that you have to go through these many things, ma." Avanti's voice cracked as she said. "And I also knew I wasn't an easy kid to bring up."

"No, you were the most understanding, honey. When I feared how you would handle everything, you came out with flying colours. You tried to understand things even at that age. You made my life easier, happier, and worth living." Radha caressed her daughter's hair.

"If not for me, would you have left his house?" Avanti's next question was something her mother had never thought of.

"Um, I don't know, kanna." Radha stammered. Silence surrounded them as she indulged in her thoughts for a while.

"Why, amma? Is there even anything to think about?" Avanti broke the prevailing silence.

"The main reason for me to make that decision is you. I don't want my daughter to grow up in such a house. I don't want you to go through everything I did. But if not for you, I don't know what I would have done." Radha's eyes welled up with tears. The tears she didn't want her daughter to witness.

"See, that's the problem, ma. You are not even considering yourself. Even if not for me, you should've taken the same decision you took, you should've had your career, and definitely, you should've lived the same life you had for the past 24 years."

Avanti's voice was firm and had a spark in it. That firmness in Avanti's voice was because of the pain her mother endured due to the things she had lost in her failed marriage and also because of the peaceful life she had after ending it. Not knowing what to say back, Radha remained silent.

Avanti always wanted to have this conversation with her mother, more than a mother-to-daughter talk, she wanted it to be woman-to-woman. She knew that kindling past things would be hard for Radha, but she delayed this talk for years more than she could count, and she desperately wanted to clear some air.

When Avanti was five years old, she understood that someone was missing from her life, and when she was seven years old, she realised it was her father.

Eventually, she started having dreams about a man carrying her on his shoulders, making her laugh, and playing hide and seek with her. She began to imagine that man as her father. In her imaginary world, he was a 5'7 feet tall, brown man with a well-built physique. However, she couldn't see his face. She had him within herself, and she didn't even want to share it with her mother.

From then on, every little incident triggered her yearning for a father. Every evening after school got over, when Avanti saw her friend's father coming to pick her up, she badly wanted a father. Every single time her friends asked about her father's name, she struggled to hide her tears. When her mother came alone for every parent-teacher meeting, she felt upset among all her friends who came with both their parents. Every time she went to a park where she saw some random kids with their fathers teaching them to ride a bicycle, she hardly breathed. That second-grade year was something that took a toll on her. It made her believe that she needed a father in her life. And gradually, those thoughts were reflected in every action of hers.

The first time she let out her longing for a father was through that second-grade drawing. Also, she didn't fail to see the disheartened expression on her mother's face after seeing that drawing. But she was too young to decode the reason behind that grief.

Later, when she was assigned to write an essay about the hero of her life, without a second thought, she made up her mind to write about her father. For Avanti, her imaginary father, who was playing hide and seek with her, was a hero. But when she asked Radha about her father, she saw that struggle in her mother's eyes, which shook her hard. She didn't insist anymore and wrote that essay herself. She waited for days, hoping her mother would ask her about whom she wrote the essay. She even kept that note wide open on the table, hoping Radha would see it. But for her own reasons, Radha didn't want to read it. In fact, she didn't have the courage to even look at it.

That was an eye-opening moment for Avanti to discern how much hurt her mother was carrying within. That was the last time she ever thought of wanting a father. From that day, she started shunning those thoughts about the imaginary man. Eventually, the dreams about him faded away.

Radha didn't fail to notice the changes in her daughter's behaviour. From asking a million questions to keeping herself shut, Radha saw every change happening within Avanti.

Whenever Avanti asked so many questions about her father, Radha felt congestion in her throat, not knowing how to answer them. More than she worried about herself, she was worried about Avanti, wondering how she would handle it. Radha didn't want to punish her daughter by resting bigger things on her shoulder at that age. But when Avanti stopped asking about her father, Radha was worried more. She couldn't understand what was going on within Avanti's head. She was worried that her daughter would start hating her for not disclosing information about her father. That phase was something that threw Radha off balance. It was more disturbing for her than the whole divorce phase. To settle things down, she decided to talk about it with Avanti.

Unlike Radha feared, Avanti understood everything, and even she was very sympathetic. She hugged her mother for quite some time without uttering anything. In that silence, they both understood that they needed to be there for each other through every phase of life. That was the last time they had a conversation about it. But Avanti was too young at that stage to ask about the struggles her mother faced after having a divorce. When she was old enough to think from a woman's point of view, she always wanted to talk about it one day and wanted to see things through a divorced woman's eyes. And today happened to be that day.

"Divorce is so dreadful, kanna. If not for both of your grandparents, I couldn't even imagine how I would have handled everything with a year-old baby." Radha opened her mouth after a long while.

"It's not divorce that is dreadful, amma. It's the people who are judging. No one wants to undergo a divorce for silly reasons, right? If someone decided to go through that dreadful phase as you say, then one should understand how much suffocating they might have felt in that marriage." Avanti took a break to breathe and continued, "It's not that hard to acknowledge a failed marriage and it's no shame to overcome it, for both men and women. It is okay to live for ourselves. It's not a crime that costs our entire lives."

"But now everything has changed, kanna. Everyone is open to accepting it. I could see the drastic change over a few decades." Radha tried to end the conversation, realising how restless it made Avanti.

"And also, I can see how much of a good speaker you are. I guess, it shouldn't be that hard for you to write an article, that too about women." Radha always believed her daughter like anything.

"Yeah well, don't say that. I have only a few days in my pocket." Avanti sighed in distress.

"Oh, okay! Is it safe to say that I believe in you?"

"Well, you're prohibited from saying anything more, amma." The calling bell rang as soon as Avanti said it.

"It should be Sarada paati." Radha stood up, adjusting her saree.

"But what made her come at this late hour, ma?"

"I've asked her for some flowers for tomorrow morning's puja. As she will not be putting up the shop tomorrow, she said she'll deliver some by tonight." Radha rushed outside. She bought the flowers from Sarada paati and offered her some water. After a little talk with Radha and Avanti, the old woman left.

"You should've asked me to get those from her shop, amma. Why are you making her walk at this age?" Avanti was distressed about Sarada paati.

"She insisted, kanna. She insisted on delivering it on her way home." Radha replied as she kept those flowers inside the refrigerator.

Sarada is a 60-year-old woman who runs a roadside flower shop for her living. She has been running that shop in the nearby street for nearly two decades. Radha got to know her as she gets flowers from her every Friday. Sarada is so fond of Avanti, that she always gives her extra flowers, right from the first day she met her.

Every time Sarada gives an extra red rose to Avanti, she'll jump up and down, giving her endless flying kisses. It was more like a barter system for them, exchanging kisses for flowers.

For the past twenty years, Avanti has seen her run the shop even during heavy rains and sunny days. She never excused herself for a single day, as everyday earnings are important for her everyday meals.

"Why is she not putting up the shop tomorrow? When I asked her about it, she kept quiet. That's odd." Avanti shrugged her shoulders doubtfully.

"She's having an eye operation tomorrow," Radha responded as she started washing the dishes.

"What? Why didn't you tell me earlier, amma?" Avanti was shocked. It was shocking to her that Sarada paati had to work even a day before her operation. She got disturbed by thinking how unfair their lives are.

"She asked me to not tell you, kanna. She didn't want you to worry." Radha wiped the sweat off her face with the border of her saree.

"Are you guys for real?" Avanti murmured and left for her room. She locked the door behind her and jumped into bed. She started writing her article as if she had a new spark.

After a few days, Avanti went to Sarada paati's home to see her. She was doing fine with the help of her husband. Avanti gave her a red rose and wished her good health. Sarada couldn't hold her tears back. She gave her a flying kiss with her shivering hands. For the first time, their roles got reversed.

Avanti purposely avoided seeing the magazine from the morning. She was tempted to see it as soon as the paperboy delivered it in the early morning. But she was worried about how she would handle it if her article was not chosen. She delayed seeing it by convincing herself she would read it once she came back from Sarada paati's home.

When she came back, Radha was already holding the magazine in her hand. Avanti was exhilarated, waiting for her mother to break the ice. Radha cleared her throat and started reading aloud.

Voices of women

Like air is everywhere, women in the modern world are everywhere. From one end of the world to another, women are spinning no less than the Earth. Just like that, they can be anywhere. From being a homemaker to making their home financially stable, they're everywhere, making our homes a better place to live. They're leading the world like anything, as they're always two leaps ahead.

Throughout our lives, we have heard the voices of women who are holding higher positions in organisations, voices of women who're pilots, voices of women who are shining in sports, and voices of women who are succeeding in space missions. But we never listen to the voices of women we come across every day. Those unheard voices are the voices of self-employed women we see in our day-to-day life. Those are the faces we never care to look at. They are the women who are easily ignored and forgotten.

The voice of a woman is never heard beyond her family, where ironically, her voice is the most powerful one in the world.

From a woman who's selling flowers in a roadside shop to a woman making idli in her home and selling it for a lower price, everyone is an independent woman. They're enhancing the world just like any other woman holding a professional job. We do see them every day and come across them very often, but we do forget to see how financially independent they are, how strong they are, how unfair their lives are, yet how fair their hearts are.

Whenever we buy flowers from a roadside shop, the woman selling them will give us some extras. We fail to recognise how much it costs her. If sold to someone else, it would've given her the money she wanted to buy some essentials. But still, she chooses to provide those extras to us. That's how big her heart is.

From women cleaning the streets to those employed to maintain our homes, everyone's voice is stronger and louder than we hear. They're making this society a better place to live in. If not for these women, we'll be helpless and our lives will be hopeless.

Theirs are the stories that should be written. That determination in their eyes should be seen. Those spirited hearts of theirs should be embraced.

Next time when we come across them, let us slow down, hear their voices, and give them hope that they're being listened to, so that their voices will be more powerful and louder thereafter.

Radha's voice cracked as she read it aloud. She was proud of her daughter, who wrote those fierce and profound words.

A teardrop escaping Avanti's eyes brought her back to reality. She hugged her mother. That hug had so many hidden messages that they exchanged without words.

"You are incredible, kanna." Radha kissed her daughter's forehead.

"So, out of five, how much would I make as a mother, amma?" All of a sudden, Avanti asked her mother with curious eyes. With no clue why she was asking this, Radha replied, "Um, 4.9, I guess."

"Argh! Don't exaggerate, ma." Avanti sighed.

"But again, what happened to that 0.1 point?" She mocked her mother. Radha laughed as she said, "Well, because that part of you will always remain as my daughter."

"Oh, C'mon amma, we're definitely overdoing things."

Avanti took a deep breath and said, "Okay, this might sound shocking to you. But, I've decided to adopt a child, ma. I've given enough thought to it. And I think I'm ready to face anything that comes in the way." She was nervous, not knowing how her mother would react to it. She waited desperately for her response.

It took a minute for Radha to grasp everything. She could see much of herself in her daughter.

"If you're worried about my marriage, then I would like to make one thing clear to you, ma. If there comes a life partner who's very open to respect and accept my decision, then I'd be more than happy to marry him. And if at all there comes no one, then too, I'd be content with the life I get to live with the child. It's not a decision that I took overnight, amma. I very much know what I'm choosing." Avanti spoke restlessly as her mother remained silent.

"You don't need to justify yourself to me for choosing the right path, kanna. I couldn't be more proud of you for the way you choose to see the world." She was proud of herself, for raising such a great person. She felt happy for the first time, realising how good a mother she was. Avanti got excited. She didn't say anything back. She just grabbed the magazine from Radha's hands and started walking towards her room.

A few minutes later, she walked back in. "Back in time, whenever someone asked me about my father's name, I told them yours, amma. Maybe at that age I didn't know what to say, and so I just repeated your name for that question. But now, when I look back, you totally deserved that. It's by being there that someone earns it, not only by some default family system." She continued, "Well, you are the hero of my life, amma. From my second grade to now, till forever." Avanti handed her second-grade essay paper to her mother.

Radha stood still as her heart fluttered rapidly. She was overwhelmed by those few words. Those are the few words she doubted if she would ever deserve.

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Meaning for the Tamil words:
Kanna, Kutty ma - Dear
Amma, Ma - Mother
Appa - Father
Paati - Grandma/old woman
Puja - The act of worship
Idli - A south Indian food

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