It was Diwali. My dad, who is a politician, asked me to send a broadcast WhatsApp message to the 2000 contacts on his phone and wish them a Happy Diwali. But it was not a Happy Diwali for me. I was 15 and I found dirty texts exchanged between my father and his girlfriend Meenu. I showed them to Mom and she left the house immediately, without even giving a reaction, just a poker face. The next thing I knew I had decided I wasn't going to live with my father anymore because I couldn't respect him anymore.

He had always been bad to Mom. Been verbally and mentally abusive. He'd hit us at times but we'd call it a parent's beating. We moved out from a luxurious house, me, my younger brother and Mom, and moved in with Mom's sister, in her 1-bedroom apartment.

Dad never talked to Mom after that. Not even a call to know if his family was alive or not. He called Mom 7 months later and still had a verbal fight with her, after which she hung up on him. He'd only call me at times, usually once in two months.

I fell into depression because from being a daddy's girl, I had suddenly become the one who got her own parents separated. In my dad's eyes, I was his mistake. He said that to me.

I took medication as prescribed by my counselor and doctor, for my depression. Yet nothing helped, it seemed. I started writing after that. I wrote four books after that, two of which are published on Wattpad, along with a collection of my poems filled with my feelings. Writing helped me heal. I am 16 now.

Today I have only one thing to say to the man who vowed to make my Mom run on the streets naked (yes he said those words to me). "Thank you, Dad."

Thank you for leaving us like this and teaching me how to let go. Thank you for teaching me that it was not you who hurt me, it was my own expectation from you to be my father, that hurt me. Thank you for making me strong and brave today. Thank you for making me grow up.

Thank you for making me realise how brave and beautiful my Mom is. Thank you for leaving us alone.

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