My 10-year-old daughter cried every time she came back from her grandparents’ house. I hid a recorder — and when I heard the full truth, I was shaken to the core…
My name is Meera. I’m 35 years old, and I live in an apartment in Mumbai with my husband, Arjun, and our young daughter, Ananya. To me, Ananya is my whole world — obedient, bright in her studies, and deeply affectionate. But as she grew older, she found it harder and harder to share certain things with her mother.
Then one day, I realized that I had caused her far more pain than I could ever have imagined.
It all began when Arjun started taking Ananya every week to visit her grandparents — his parents — who live in Thane. At first, I thought it was a good thing. Her grandmother needed her company too.
But lately, every time Ananya returned home, she was unusually quiet.
One day, she went straight to her room and buried her face in her pillow, crying.
When I asked her what had happened, she shook her head and said,
“I’m fine… don’t worry.”
I asked Arjun, but he replied irritably,
“You overthink everything. Kids crying a little is normal. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
But my mother’s instinct told me — something was wrong.
I decided to do something that still sends a shiver down my spine when I think about it.
The next day, as my daughter was getting ready to go to Thane with Arjun, I quietly slipped a small voice recorder into her bag. My hands were trembling and my heart was racing. I felt guilty for doubting… but at the same time, I needed to know the truth.
That afternoon, Ananya came home and started crying again. I hugged her tightly and acted as if nothing was wrong.
When she fell asleep, I turned on the recorder.
What I heard left me stunned.
Her grandmother’s voice was harsh, with a strong Marathi accent:
“This girl is exactly like her mother. What kind of woman can’t even give birth to a son? If she doesn’t study hard and earn good money, throw her out!”
Ananya’s voice was choked with emotion:
“I… I’ll try harder. Please don’t hate me…”
My heart shattered.
Why should a ten-year-old child have to endure such cruelty?
Then Arjun’s cold voice followed:
“She’s right. She’s just a girl. What’s the point of raising her if she’s going to get married anyway? Don’t spoil her too much.”
I was shaking. Tears streamed down my face.
The man I trusted the most — my child’s father — was not just indifferent, but actively complicit in allowing our daughter to be emotionally abused.
I sat beside Ananya’s bed, looking at her tear-stained face. My heart was overflowing with grief and anger. During the day, she smiled and talked to me as if everything were fine — but behind my back, she was carrying the burden of rejection from her own family.
The next morning, I asked Arjun to sit in the living room. I placed the recorder on the table and pressed play.
The voices echoed through the silent room. Arjun’s face turned pale.
Looking straight into his eyes, I said,
“You call this ‘normal’? She’s only ten years old! She needs love — not rejection.”
Arjun stammered,
“I… I just wanted her to become strong…”
I gave a sad smile.
“You make a child strong by making her feel unwanted? Do you have any idea how much she cries every time she comes back from your parents’ house?”
He fell silent, his head lowered. For the first time, I saw shame in my husband’s eyes.
That night, I held my daughter close and whispered,
“Anu, I know you’ve been through a lot. You don’t have to carry this burden alone. Be true to yourself — I will always be here for you.”
She froze for a moment — and then burst into tears.
“Mom… I thought you wouldn’t believe me. I was scared that if I told you, you’d be hurt…”
I hugged her tightly. In that moment, I realized something painful and true:
the greatest pain my daughter endured was having to endure it alone.
From that day on, I vowed that she would never again go to her paternal grandparents’ house. I told Arjun’s family in Thane: if you still hold prejudice against girls, then please stay away from me and my daughter.
I also contacted a child psychologist in Bandra to help relieve the emotional pressure on my daughter.
For me — a mother living in the busy heart of Mumbai — raising my child in love is what matters most.
The truth revealed by that recorder caused a rift in our family, but it also made one thing painfully clear:
A daughter’s tears should never be ignored.