“So you think your mother would like me?” I asked nervously.

“Of course babe! Just don’t tell her you love chicken,” he laughed.

It has been twenty years since and I have realised that it always begins with one white lie to silence the people around you, but soon it becomes an expectation – something people want you to become, and people never stop expecting from you. You keep changing constantly and someday when you reflect, you don’t really identify the person you become.

If I would have told your mother how much I loved chicken, I would’ve lost you but I would still have been myself – carefree and daring, unlike the pretentious sad woman I have now become.

Shradha