"The Address of Waiting"
Episode 1
The girl's name was Megha.
But she had chosen another name for herself—"Waiting."
Because from the moment she was born, she had learned to wait.
To wait for love.
To wait for peace.
To wait for a normal family life.
There was only one thing she had never been able to wait for—time.
Time never walked hand in hand with her.
Instead, it ran ahead, leaving her behind.
And one day—
suddenly, time itself seemed to stop.
That day, the sky was unusually silent.
Even inside the house, there was a muffled noise—no one was shouting, yet everything seemed to shatter.
Megha was still very small.
But even little humans can understand certain feelings with startling clarity.
Her parents' unrest was nothing new to her. Fights, doors slamming, long sighs holding back tears—these were her everyday life.
Before her younger sister was born, that unrest seemed to thicken.
Invisible walls grew within the family. Conversations became fewer, the language of the eyes changed.
And that day…
the day time stopped—
Megha realized for the first time that waiting has an end.
But sometimes, that end is even more frightening than the beginning.
(Flashback)
It was long before her younger sister's birth.
The house had not completely fallen apart yet.
But cracks had already appeared in the walls.
Megha was only six.
She still believed—her father was her hero.
Her mother, her world.
That night, heavy rain fell outside.
Megha woke up to find her mother gone from beside her bed.
The drawing-room light was on.
She tiptoed and stood hidden behind the wall.
Her mother's voice trembled—
"I can't take it anymore…"
Her father's voice was heavy—not with anger, but with exhaustion—
"Is everything my fault alone?"
Then, a sound.
The shattering of glass.
Megha shivered in fear.
But what she saw in the next moment
made her childhood end that night.
Her mother's hand was bleeding.
Her father stood still.
There was no love in anyone's eyes anymore.
That was the first time Megha realized—
when love breaks, it makes noise.
And that noise does not only shatter glass,
it shatters people too.
From that day, she learned to wait—
for a day when there would be no fights.
A day when her mother would not cry.
But that day never came.
Instead, the following year brought an even bigger storm…
With the birth of her younger sister.
Megha did not yet understand the difference between a boy and a girl.
To her, a child was a child—small hands, small feet, laughter.
But one day, she realized—
not all children were valued equally.
Her mother was pregnant.
A strange, tense atmosphere filled the house.
Her father often said,
"This time, it must be a boy."
At first, Megha liked the idea.
She thought—if it's a brother, we can play together.
But slowly, she sensed a condition hidden within those words.
The day they returned from the doctor was unusually silent.
Her mother's eyes were red.
Her father's face was tense.
That night, a fight broke out.
"Another girl?"
Her father's voice held not anger, but disappointment.
"The child isn't mine alone…"
Her mother's voice trembled.
Then came those words—
which pierced through seven-year-old Megha's heart:
"I must have a son to carry on my lineage. If not… I will make other arrangements."
"Other arrangements"—
those two words echoed in Megha's ears for many days.
A few days later, she overheard—
her father was planning to remarry.
Because this family had not given him a son.
That night, Megha pressed her ear to her mother's belly and whispered—
"Even if you're a girl, it's okay… I am here."
But deep inside, she harbored a fear—
What if her father really leaves?
What if a new family comes?
Then what will happen to her and her unborn sister?
From that day on, Megha realized—
her very birth seemed like a kind of crime.
And so she chose a new name for herself.
Not Megha.
She became "Waiting."
She would wait—
for her father to change.
For the crime of being a girl to be undone.
Someday, someone would say—
"You are enough."