i was born in india, in a slum. i had an awful, awful childhood. when i was 13, however, i met this boy who was 14. he was from the same place as me but he had a better life. soon, i was swept up in romance. i heard stories of women being abused, beaten, hurt by their husbands and boyfriends, but banasari was not like that. he truly loved me. when we were 17 our beautiful, lovely little girl ajamara was born. we both loved her to pieces. but my parents were so upset with me for having ajamara before i was married that they kicked me out! banasari let me stay with him and his family. we started saving all our money and when ajamara was 16 we emigrated to andorra. the day we moved in i discovered i was pregnant. we named her upala, after my sister who drownded.we loved life in anorra, but we were very very poor. ajamara, banasari and i worked very hard, but there was the baby and it was difficult. we lived in a cramped apartment, but it was filled with happiness and love. 3 years passed i was pregnant again. we named this daughter nancy. when nancy was barely 14 months old, beverly was born. neither were planned but we still loved them. we kept working, because we still were in that apartment. finally, we had enough to buy a lovely little brick house. with 3 bedrooms. ajamara was in college at this point. she lived in a dorm. she never would've hd that chance in india. ever. i had to drop out when i was 10. 5 years passed and i was 45. we didnt think we could have any more kids, but lo and behold our twins marie and jeffrey were born.
now we live in a big yellow house next to a skinny brook. it is wonderful. i am 60, only the twins still live with us, but the older girls drop by every now and then. we haven't gone back to india since, it hurts to think about it.
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