A note to Sunny Leone’s daughter: Know that you’re in strength

To my little Nisha,

A big hug. I know you must be bewildered, with all the attention suddenly pouring in. For a new few weeks, if not months, the cameras are not going to spare you. Don’t be surprised if your mom is mostly on calls, thanking the known, lesser known and unknown ones for their best wishes.

I also want you to know that you’re just not another little girl any more. You now happen to be a star-kid. As amazing as it sounds, all your whereabouts will gradually start falling under the scanner. As you grow up, from your first boyfriend to a bad hair day, from your girls’ nights out to your gym outings, everything is going to make headlines.

I am sure you’ll grow up to be an amazingly beautiful woman. You will sieve the negativity and will never lose your grace before the world. You will, as well, be a woman of substance and dignity. But Nisha, that’s not all.

Growing up, in some ways, sucks. Some years down the line, you will learn to distinguish between the warmth of real affection and the pretence of purposeful proximity. As your senses are slowly exposed to the outer world, not everything is going to look, feel and sound pleasant. That is when you know, life has begun.

Inevitably, some are going to throw at you, “your mother was a porn star”. Some will say nothing, except of a sly smile which hurts even more. Some will whisper behind you, “Look, she is Sunny Leone’s daughter.” Some will remind you that she didn’t give birth to you. “You’re just an adopted child,” someone will grin. Do not run back home with your eyes welled up. Do not break down. Do not beat yourself up.

We women yet live in a weird kind of society. Here, the vagina is mine but the will isn’t mine. The heart is mine but the desires aren’t. The brain is mine but decisions aren’t. The legs are mine, but I can’t walk away when I want to. Since they have a flat chest and I have two big lumps on mine, they think they have the license to stare at my breasts. Since my hands are delicate and theirs are muscular, they think they can snatch me, hurt me, wean me away, tear me apart. And since my voice is softer than theirs, I can’t speak of my desires. They don’t like your mother. You know why? Because she had made her own choice. Nisha, that’s the best thing she can teach you. To make your own CHOICE.

Among the several hundreds or thousands who will pity you for being a former porn star’s daughter, very few have the nerve of admitting their real selves. And majority of them never had a choice of their own. Don’t be surprised if one day, you happen to meet one of them on the street and they almost want to eat you up with the silent, greedy glares. They’re mostly the ones who believe we are here to serve and satisfy them. Well, we are not.

Whether or not they ever tell you this, always know that you complete your parents. Motherhood is another choice that your mother has made; and that was for the best of all. Congratulate yourself for you’ll be in company of someone who was never ashamed of herself and embraced each stage of life with great bravery. Too naive are the ones who believe a woman can’t feel like a mother until she has carried the baby in her womb for nine months. Among so many billion people in this world, you happen to be the only person who makes your mother a mother. Isn’t that damn special?

If you ever happen to read this, remember that self-love is irreplaceable. Most will tell you that the ideal women are selfless. But the deal is, we aren’t supposed to be ideal. We’re supposed to be ourselves. It is by standing for yourself that you get the courage to stand by others. Never hesitate to shrug off and walk away. Make your own choices, no matter how much you offend the self-proclaimed moral police.

-With love,

Another woman who was once a kid too.

Ranjini Maitra

Journalist. Writer. Reader. Enthu cutlet. Mood-swing machine. Day dreamer. Sandwiched between ‘live life fully’ and ‘lose some weight’. Mantra of life: Love and love more.