Micro-Autobiography: Mother, Dogs and Brontë

If only there was an easier way of explaining, I wouldn’t have been making up stories.

My mother tried teaching me all possible practical methods of dealing with the society while putting me at a safe distance from most of her own secrets. Most probably, I grew up knowing nothing and doubting everything. This, infact, isn’t one of those lazy Brontë sister stories where a girl dreamt of secured life while having written about feminine freedom. Every character in their books, got married, had strange children or died of tuberculosis. It sounds pretty ironic to me. I almost had a laugh but it died when I started thinking about how clueless I was. I did have a laugh. Maybe it was all in my head. I don’t know. But something seriously went wrong.  It wasn’t one of my intentions. If only, there was an easier way of explaining. Maybe I thought for a moment I could pull off a Brontë joke pretty well. Or maybe my mother was right about everything she ever spoke of. She did manage to make me think over my uncertainty. Infact, I have been infamously called a dreamer throughout my life. If you ask my mother, it wouldn’t make me sad if she doesn’t agree with it. At the least, I’ll be glad about my uprightness on having accepted certain facts about myself based on social norms. Like we all do. Accepting society as they speak about us. Letting people judge us without them having the slightest idea about our personal lives; letting people talk, listening to them and sometimes making guilty decisions against our own conscience. Lets not lie. We all do these petty mistakes but there isn’t enough time for blaming anyone anyways. Why put so much effort on people? I mean, people in general and more precisely the kinds who love the Brontë sisters or the kinds who would feed every kinds of food to every street dog in the community for the welfare of society and other strange health related issues. I am socially incapable of understanding dog issues at times. Don’t ask me why, I wouldn’t answer you because I don’t like to lie and I personally have nothing against dogs. I assure you with all my honesty, I adore them as much as I love resisting myself from posting dog videos on people’s wall post. If only there was an easier way of explaining, I wouldn’t have mentioned dogs.

My mother once told me, I shouldn’t dream too high. If I may recall possible heights of her dreams and combine it with mine, all of our above average dreams would still seem unrealistic to her. Infact, she fits well in all of Brontë’s novels but I don’t feel the need to get married, having strange kids or dying of tuberculosis. If only there was an easier way of explaining, I wouldn’t have mentioned Brontë.

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