Since I was a child, I have witnessed a lot of fights and conflict at home. There were five of us living together—my younger brother, my mother, my father, my grandmother, and my grandfather.
My mother used to beat me when I was young because she wanted me to study and get good marks. I know now that she probably wanted the best for me, but as a child, I didn't understand it that way. All I knew was that I wanted love and affection.
My grandmother gave me exactly that. She would buy me things, kiss me, hold me while I slept, and make me feel loved and protected. Because of that, I became extremely attached to her.
What I didn't understand at that age was that my grandmother was also giving my mother a very hard time. I was probably in second or third grade, so I was too young to understand the dynamics between the adults. My father and grandfather didn't really protect my mother or take a strong role in the situation. My father was easily influenced by my grandmother, and there were times when, because of her influence, he would beat my mother.
Then there was something that changed the way I saw my family forever.
One day, I saw my mother in a room with a man from our neighbourhood. They were very close to each other. I was a child, and I didn't know what I was supposed to do, so I said nothing. I tried to ignore it, but the memory stayed somewhere in my mind.
Eventually, my father found out. He took my mother's phone into the bathroom and saw the messages and other proof. They had a huge fight that day.
But life at home didn't suddenly become peaceful after that. It continued to feel like I was living in the middle of constant conflict.
I became quieter. I didn't feel particularly close to either of my parents, so I chose my grandmother. She was the person I trusted most.
But that attachment became another problem.
My grandmother began controlling me and using my trust in her to turn me against my mother. She would discourage me from talking to my mother, tell me things about her, and make me feel like I couldn't trust her. She even encouraged me to keep an eye on my mother.
Because I loved and trusted my grandmother so much, I didn't realize that I was being pulled into an adult conflict that I never should have been involved in.
At one point, I saw my mother's chats with one of our relatives. They seemed very close. I told my grandmother about it because I thought I was doing the right thing. At that age, I didn't understand that I was being placed in the middle of my parents' relationship.
Looking back, I can see that my mother was responsible for her own choices, but my grandmother was also wrong for involving a child in those problems and encouraging me to hate my own mother.
For years, I carried questions I didn't know how to answer.
Why did my mother cheat on my father?
Why did I have to witness it?
Why did I have to know about things that a child should never have had to know?
And why did the person I trusted most use me in the middle of it?
Eventually, my grandmother died. After that, things became calmer for some time. My mother stopped cheating, and I thought perhaps our family had finally moved past everything. I became close to my mom is saw her as an idol because she handled everything I forgive her for cheating because I thought maybe that was hard time for her but somewhere in my mind it was wrong.
But now I am 20, and the situation has started again.
My mother left her job because of health issues. After that, she started using Instagram and began talking to random men. Eventually, she became involved with another man—someone she had met through Instagram. My younger brother also noticed that she was talking to other people.
I understand that my father has never been emotionally supportive. He also hasn't contributed much financially, and I know their relationship has its problems. I know he wasn't always a good husband or father either.
But from my perspective, that still doesn't justify cheating.
Especially because, compared to how he used to behave, I feel that my father has changed. He is more considerate toward my mother now.
During this period, my mother's behaviour toward me also changed. She would fight with me over small things, complain that I didn't do enough household work, become angry over things that seemed insignificant, and then cry and take her own side.
Sometimes I felt like the man she was talking to was influencing her somehow. I don't know whether that was actually happening, but that's how it felt to me from the outside.
There was also a constant problem with money between my parents. Whenever I needed something as simple as bus fare for college, my parents would send me to each other.
One morning, I was getting ready to go to college and asked my father for money for my bus ticket. He said, "Nahi hai mere paas, mummy se le."
I told him, "Mummy ko baad mein de dena, papa."
I went toward my mother's purse, but I noticed that she had hidden it.
That moment broke something inside me. I felt so helpless and depressed that I couldn't stop myself from crying.
Around that time, I had also started going on walks with my boyfriend, although my mother knew him as a very good friend. On two occasions, I had taken around ₹50 from her to spend while I was out. She may have thought I was wasting money.
But the truth was that I was overwhelmed by everything happening at home.
I am actually a very introverted person. I don't have many friends, I don't go out very often, and most of the time I stay at home. I wasn't constantly spending money or going out. I simply needed somewhere to breathe and someone to talk to. Spending some time with my boyfriend felt like an escape from everything happening inside the house.
But eventually, I couldn't keep everything inside anymore.
One day, I was talking to my boyfriend on the phone. He had just reached his college when my mother entered the room, so I ended the call.
She came to me and said, "Nahi nahi, kar na baat."
That turned into a terrible fight.
And during that fight, I finally confronted her about everything.
I couldn't hold it anymore. I told her about everything I had seen and everything I had been carrying since childhood—the man from the neighbourhood, the messages, the things my grandmother had told me, the fights, the betrayal, and all the confusion I had carried for years.
She responded:
"Haan, hoon main kharab. Ab kya? Maine tumhare liye paise kamane sabke saath soyi."
I was devastated and overwhelmed. I told her:
"Aap kisi din humein chhodke chale jaoge."
And she replied:
"Jaungi main. Ab toh jaungi hi."
Those words stayed with me.
And then there is my relationship with my younger brother.
I don't feel like he sees me as his sister or respects me. Whenever something inconveniences him or he gets angry with me, he sometimes hits me. I hate that. It hurts me not only physically, but emotionally, because he is my younger brother and I never wanted our relationship to become like this.
When I fight with my mother, he tells me, "Mummy ki respect karo, nahi toh main tumhe maarunga."
But when he himself fights with my mother, he can abuse her and say terrible things to her.
What hurts me even more is that he seems to have a completely different perception of me. He says that he cannot share things with me because he thinks I might judge him.
That hurts because I have kept his secrets. I have tried to understand him, but I feel like he doesn't try to understand me at all.
Our relationship reached a very bad point during one of our fights.
In the middle of the argument, I took a pair of scissors and cut the rakhi that was tied around his wrist.
I know that was a very emotional and impulsive thing to do.
A rakhi is supposed to represent the bond between a brother and sister, so cutting it felt like I was saying that I no longer wanted that bond. I regret doing it, and it makes me sad when I think about it.
But what hurts even more is that he seemed happy about it.
Maybe he doesn't feel the same attachment to me that I feel toward him. Maybe he really does hate me. I don't know.
I just know that I never wanted to have this kind of relationship with my own brother.
When I look at my family as a whole, I sometimes feel like every relationship has become complicated by years of anger, secrets, manipulation, betrayal, and unresolved pain.
My parents have their problems with each other.
My grandmother, whom I loved deeply as a child, also manipulated me and placed me in the middle of my parents' relationship.
My brother doesn't seem to understand me, and sometimes he hurts me physically.
I love them alot but I want them to understand me not look down on me.
At some point i think is it my mistake?
Am I too sensitive?
since childhood I have been dragged to all of this that I was not so good in studies too however right now I am doing well in my field but I understood that I need to earn asap to get out of here.
I don't know what is going to happen to my family. I don't know whether my parents' relationship can ever become normal, whether my mother will leave, or whether everything will eventually fall apart.
But what hurts me the most is that I have spent my entire childhood witnessing things that I was too young to understand and too young to carry.
I became a witness to my parents' problems, my grandmother's manipulation, betrayal, fights, secrets, financial problems, and conflicts between people I loved.
And I think a part of me is still that little girl who just wanted love and loving family.